Ren did not return to the inn that night.
Instead, he followed one of the lesser paths leading away from the settlement — a route traders used only when they wanted to avoid attention. It curved through low hills and shallow ravines, eventually opening into a wide, quiet clearing surrounded by stone and old trees.
No banners.No patrols.No spiritual pressure lingering in the air.
Perfect.
Ren sat on a flat rock and closed his eyes.
The echo responded immediately — not flaring, not resisting.
Listening.
"Tell me," Ren whispered, not expecting words,"what you remember about people."
The echo pulsed.
Not in answer.
In reflection.
Images brushed his thoughts — indistinct, fragmented.
Groups breaking apart under pressure.Power pooling in a few hands, then shattering violently.Civilizations collapsing not from enemies… but from imbalance.
Ren frowned.
"So it wasn't strength that failed," he murmured."It was structure."
The echo hummed faintly.
Agreement.
Ren opened his eyes and stared at the empty clearing.
"No sect," he said quietly."No bloodline.""No throne."
He traced a slow circle in the dirt.
"Just people," he continued."Connected horizontally, not stacked vertically."
The echo pulsed again — curious, approving.
Ren didn't smile.
This wasn't a victory.
It was a responsibility.
He thought of Lyra's precision.Borin's steadiness.Draven's awareness hidden behind fear.
Different strengths.Different roles.
All necessary.
He exhaled.
"If I give it a name too early," Ren said softly,"they'll try to own it."
The echo agreed.
So he didn't name it.
He stood and walked the perimeter of the clearing, memorizing the terrain, the way sound carried, the way light filtered through the canopy.
A place like this could grow quietly.
Ren left before dawn.
Not back toward the settlement.
Not forward into sect lands.
But sideways — into the spaces between.
By midday, he crossed paths with travelers again.
Not cultivators this time.
Commoners.Runaways.Displaced people avoiding the war creeping across the continents.
Ren spoke little.
Listened more.
He offered advice.Shared routes.Connected people who needed each other.
And each time, the echo pulsed.
Not stronger.
Broader.
By nightfall, Ren realized something subtle had changed.
Not around him.
Within him.
He no longer felt like someone walking a road.
He felt like someone mapping one.
Far away, in the settlement he had left behind, an information broker frowned over incomplete reports.
"No sect contact.""No open ambition.""No clear trajectory."
He tapped the page with his finger.
"A shape without a name," he muttered.
And that unsettled him more than any prodigy ever had.
Ren camped beneath the stars again, the echo quiet and steady.
Tomorrow, the world would keep watching.
But for now—
Something had begun.
And the most dangerous things always did.
Without announcement.
Without banners.
Without permission.