The bell rang again.
Louder this time.
Urgent.
Ren felt it in his bones more than his ears.
Lyra was already moving, pulling him to his feet.Borin surged ahead without a word, axe resting on his shoulder, eyes locked toward the southern edge of the village.
Draven's scream cut through the air from somewhere behind a house.
"WHY IS THE BELL RINGING LIKE THAT?! WE ONLY USE THAT BELL FOR BANDITS OR FIRE OR— OR END-OF-THE-WORLD EVENTS!"
Ren forced himself to breathe.
The echo inside him tightened — small, defensive, alert.
Not screaming.
Watching.
They broke into a run.
Villagers spilled into the streets, confusion turning to panic as the bell continued to ring.Mothers grabbed children.Men reached for tools that suddenly felt too small to be weapons.
Smoke drifted low near the southern gate.
Too dark.
Too thick.
Lyra cursed under her breath.
"That's not cooking smoke."
They reached the gate just as the guards staggered back.
One of them fell to his knees, clutching his arm, blood soaking through his sleeve.
"Something's wrong," the guard gasped."It didn't attack— it just walked in."
Ren's heart skipped.
"It?"
Borin shoved past him and looked through the open gate.
Then he stopped.
Ren stepped beside him.
And felt the air change.
A figure stood just beyond the gate.
Humanoid.
Tall.
Wrapped in layered dark cloth that absorbed the light rather than reflected it.Its face was hidden behind a smooth, pale mask marked with a single vertical crack.
It wasn't armed.
It wasn't aggressive.
It was waiting.
Lyra raised her bow anyway.
"Don't move," she warned.
The figure tilted its head.
Slowly.
Curiously.
Then it spoke.
Its voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
"We are not here to harm the village."
Ren felt the echo recoil.
Borin growled.
"Then leave."
The figure's head tilted the other way.
"We can't."
Ren swallowed.
"Why?"
The figure turned its cracked mask toward him.
"Because you are here."
Silence crashed down like a wave.
Lyra stepped in front of Ren without hesitation.
"You don't get to talk to him."
The figure didn't argue.
It simply took one step forward.
The ground beneath its foot did not compress.
It folded.
The villagers gasped.
Ren felt the echo flinch hard.
Lyra's arrow trembled.
Borin lifted his axe.
"Another step," he warned, "and I split you in half."
The figure paused.
"Violence is inefficient," it said calmly."We came to confirm a variable."
Ren's throat went dry.
"What variable?"
The figure's cracked mask angled slightly.
"The echo."
Ren felt every eye turn toward him.
Lyra's hand tightened around his wrist.
"You don't even know what you're talking about."
The figure disagreed.
"We know it retreated," it said."We know it is afraid.""We know it chose you."
Ren's breath hitched.
The echo pulsed — faint, sharp, frightened.
Borin snarled.
"Get out."
The figure finally seemed to notice him.
"You are not relevant."
Borin stepped forward anyway.
"I'll make myself relevant."
The figure sighed.
A soft sound.
Almost disappointed.
"This settlement will be marked."
Lyra's heart stopped.
"Marked?"
"For observation," the figure clarified."Nothing more. For now."
Ren stepped forward.
"Why?"
The figure looked at him again.
"Because the echo is no longer the most dangerous thing here."
Ren felt cold flood his veins.
"Then what is?"
The figure's mask cracked slightly wider.
"Choice."
The word settled like a curse.
Behind the figure, the air rippled.
Not opening.
Not tearing.
Listening.
The figure stepped back.
"We will return."
Lyra shouted.
"When?!"
The figure paused at the threshold.
"When the echo stops hiding," it said calmly."Or when you stop pretending you can protect him."
Then it was gone.
Not vanished.
Folded away.
The pressure lifted.
The smoke thinned.
The bell fell silent.
Ren sagged, knees weak.
Lyra caught him instantly.
Borin stared at the empty gate, axe still raised.
Draven crawled out from behind a cart, sobbing.
"That was NOT a bandit."
Ren pressed his hand to his chest.
The echo trembled.
Not with fear.
With recognition.
Lyra whispered, voice shaking:
"Ren… what did it mean by 'choice'?"
Ren didn't answer immediately.
He looked at the villagers.
At the gate.
At the road beyond.
And finally said the truth:
"It means…the world isn't afraid of the echo anymore."
Lyra's breath caught.
Borin frowned.
"Then what's it afraid of?"
Ren closed his eyes.
"…me choosing wrong."
Far beyond the village, something shifted.
And the storm moved closer.