#4
The air in Gloomwald felt different—heavy, damp, and filled with song. It was not a sound the ears could hear, but a low pressure along Thalia's spine, a vibration that made her teeth want to grind. The forest itself breathed with echoes.
She and Kaelen hid behind the roots of a colossal tree, coiled like stone serpents, still dripping with water from the Silverbane River. In the distance, across the river, torchlight still moved—Felwin's patrol searching for a way to cross.
"We can't stay here," Kaelen muttered, wringing water from his sleeves. His eyes constantly scanned the surrounding trees. "They'll find a bridge or a boat. We have to go deeper."
"Deeper into what?" Thalia whispered, her hand gripping the pendant at her chest to warm the cold silver. "And what is it… what's singing?"
"It's the forest. Or more precisely, all the echoes trapped here." Kaelen reached into his soaked pack and took out his small crystal. Its dim blue glow looked like a candle in a storm compared to the darkness swallowing them. "The boundary between past and present is thin here. Echoes aren't just stored in artifacts; they drift freely, clinging to trees, stones, even the air. And sometimes… they speak to each other."
As if to prove his point, a whisper slid past them—a fragment of conversation in a long-dead language, followed by children's laughter that cut off abruptly. Thalia tightened her mental boundaries, the shield Roland had taught her crackling under the strain.
"Where do we go?" she asked again, trying to sound calmer than she felt.
"There's a place. Heartwood Grove." Kaelen stood and helped Thalia to her feet. Their boots sank into thick moss that felt like wet velvet. "A community of the Echo-Touched. They might tell us about Vance. Or at least give us shelter."
They started moving, with Kaelen leading. Every step in Gloomwald felt like crossing into a different room. The temperature shifted violently—from biting cold to humid warmth within a few strides. Moonlight only occasionally pierced the giant-leaf canopy, casting strange silhouettes that seemed to move at the edges of vision.
And always, there was the singing. Sometimes like a distant choir, sometimes like a single lament. Thalia felt a flicker of recognition within it—a note, a resonance pattern—like an echo of an echo she had heard somewhere before.
"Are you all right?" Kaelen asked, noticing her frown.
"The song… it sounds like something I've heard before. I just don't know where." She shook her head. Probably her imagination.
They walked for about an hour when Kaelen suddenly stopped, raising his hand. Ahead, the path seemed to split: one trail descended into pitch-black darkness; the other appeared brighter, with glowing fungi adorning the trees.
"Left path," Kaelen whispered. "The right one… it's a trap. False joy echoes. They lure intruders into dream-eating swamps."
"How do you know?"
"Because I almost died there. Once." Kaelen guided them onto the darker path.
The trail sloped steeply downward, entering a narrow ravine between rock walls coated in moss that pulsed with pale green light. Here, the song changed into panicked whispers.
"…don't let them take it… the promise… must keep the promise…"
The whispers were so clear that Thalia nearly answered. She saw Kaelen listening too, his face tense.
"That's recent," Kaelen murmured. "Echoes here are usually much older."
"Promise," Thalia repeated. "The same word from Roland's notes. The broken promise."
They moved more cautiously. The ravine eventually opened into a small valley bathed in full moonlight. And at the center of the valley stood a tree—one that made Thalia gasp.
Not because of its size, though it was massive. But because of its trunk: beneath layers of moss and cracked bark, it gleamed with metal. Like copper or bronze fused with living wood. And from its branches hung not leaves, but medals, insignia, and tattered uniform fragments—all from the Battle of the Bloody Lake.
"This…" Kaelen stepped closer, hesitant. "This is the Promise Tree. Where lost soldiers leave their vows. But I've never seen it this close to the forest's edge."
Thalia approached, curiosity overpowering caution. She touched one of the hanging medals—not the missing bronze one, but a similar piece. The moment her fingers met the cold metal, an echo struck her.
Lieutenant Vance knelt here, his hands bloody, digging a small hole among the roots. His face was hollow with despair. "I can't bring it back," he whispered to the tree, his voice raw. "But I promise. I'll guard it. I'll make sure the world knows what they did to us."
He placed something into the hole—a small metal cylinder—then covered it carefully. As he stood, he tore the medal from his uniform and hung it on a branch. "With this, I bind my promise."
The echo faded. Thalia jerked her hand back, breath ragged. "Vance was here. He left something. Proof."
"Where?" Kaelen scanned the ground.
"At the roots. He buried something." Thalia dropped to her knees, brushing aside soil and moss at the base of the metal-veined tree.
Kaelen joined her, using his dagger to dig carefully. The earth was soft, as if disturbed not long ago. And barely half an arm's depth down, the blade struck something hard.
It was a corrosion-resistant metal cylinder, about the length of a forearm, sealed with wax. As Kaelen lifted it, something around them changed.
The forest's song stopped abruptly.
In the sudden silence, another sound emerged: footsteps. Many of them. And the scrape of metal.
"We're surrounded," Kaelen hissed, rising quickly with the cylinder in hand.
From the shadows at the valley's edge, figures emerged. They were not what Thalia had imagined the Echo-Touched to be—wild people in ragged clothes. Instead, they wore simple, earth-gray robes, their faces calm and alert. They carried plain wooden staffs, but their eyes… their eyes glowed with the same pale blue light Kaelen's had when he used his power.
And at their front stood a woman. She was older, her silver hair loosely braided, her face lined with age—but her eyes were sharp as a hawk's. She looked directly at Kaelen.
"Kaelen," she said, her voice clear and resonant like a bell. "It has been a long time."
Kaelen bowed his head slightly. "Elara."
Elara. The name Isolde had spoken.
The woman—Elara—shifted her gaze to Thalia, then to the metal cylinder in Kaelen's hands. "You bring another memory leech into our lands. And you dig up a well we have guarded for a long time."
"We're looking for Lieutenant Vance," Thalia said, forcing her voice to stay steady. "He holds a truth we need."
"Vance is a guardian," Elara replied. "And what he guarded is not meant for unready ears." She stepped closer. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed Thalia's neck, where the locket's chain was just visible. "And you… you carry a family echo. A strong one. A dangerous one."
"Are you… Echo-Touched?" Thalia asked.
Elara smiled faintly. "We are the Listeners. And we have listened to Gloomwald's song—and the echoes within it—far longer than that arrogant Chamber of Whispers has stood." She extended her hand. "The cylinder. Give it to me."
Kaelen glanced at Thalia, a question in his eyes.
Before Thalia could answer, a shout shattered the stillness from the ravine's direction.
"THERE! THEY'RE THERE!"
Felwin and his two arcanists burst from the dark path, panting but triumphant. Felwin immediately raised his ring, but when he saw Elara and the Listeners, his expression changed.
"Echo Wardens," he sneered, condescending—yet with a trace, just a trace, of fear. "Hand over the two fugitives. They belong to the Chamber."
Elara did not even look at him. "The Chamber lost its claim to this land when it broke the Luminspire Accord. Leave, little child playing with echoes. Before you learn what echoes truly mean."
Felwin bristled. "I have authority from the Grand Chancellor herself!"
"Melpomene," Elara said, and for the first time her flat tone turned cold as ancient ice. "She is even less welcome here." She finally turned, and her gaze made Felwin step back. "Final warning. Go."
Felwin snarled, but he took in the number of Listeners—and the uncertainty in his arcanists' eyes. He knew this was not a fight he could win.
"This isn't over," he spat, pointing at Thalia and Kaelen. "The Chamber will not forget this insult." He and his men withdrew slowly into the ravine, and soon their footsteps faded.
Elara exhaled, as if holding back an ancient sorrow. "Always the same. They come, they take, and they ruin." She turned to Thalia. "Now. Why is Melpomene hunting a young apprentice and a lost Memory Leech? And why are you searching for Vance?"
Thalia drew a deep breath. She sensed that truth—or at least part of it—was the only currency of value here.
"My name is Thalia. I am an Echo-Whisperer of the Chamber. And I am… Melpomene's niece. The daughter of her sister, Althea."
A ripple passed through the Listeners. The name meant something to them.
Elara studied her with renewed intensity. "Althea. She who listened too deeply." She stepped closer, her eyes scanning Thalia's face. "Yes. I see it in your eyes. And in the echo you carry." She nodded toward the locket. "She came here once. Seeking the same truth. And it led her to her death."
"What was she searching for?" Thalia hissed.
Elara was silent for a long moment, as if listening to the forest's song returning around them. "The truth about the Silent Heart. And about the Broken Accord." She pointed to the cylinder in Kaelen's hands. "Vance was one of that secret's guardians. One of the few who survived the betrayal that ended the Battle of the Bloody Lake—not a battle against Gloomwald's monsters, as your history claims. But a massacre. An Aethelgard army sent to erase its own unit because they discovered the truth."
Thalia's heart thundered. "What truth?"
Elara looked at her with pity. "The same truth that will kill you as it killed your mother, if you pursue it." Then she glanced toward where Felwin had gone. "But it seems the choice has been made for you. The Chamber will not stop. Melpomene will not stop." She decided. "Take the cylinder. Bring it to the Weeping Crag. There, in the echo chamber, open it. Only there—shielded from the Chamber's gaze and… other eyes… can Vance's truth be heard safely."
"The Weeping Crag?" Kaelen asked, uneasy.
"The place where the echoes of the Battle of the Bloody Lake are strongest. The most dangerous place in Gloomwald for listeners like you." Elara fixed them with a knowing stare, imparting a mental map. "The path is perilous. But if you are Althea's heir and Vance's bearer… perhaps it is fate."
She gestured, and one of the Listeners stepped forward, offering two bundles of dried leaves woven into bracelets. "These will help… stabilize the echoes around you. But they are a weak shield against what waits at the Crag."
Thalia took the bracelets, feeling a warm, calming vibration. "Why help us?"
"Because we have listened to the Chamber's lies for too long," Elara answered. "And because Gloomwald's song… has sung of the arrival of a new listener bearing Althea's blood for many years. We were only waiting."
With that, Elara and the Listeners turned away, dissolving into the forest's shadows as if they had never been there.
Thalia and Kaelen stood alone in the valley, the weight of Vance's metal cylinder heavy in their hands, while the forest itself seemed to hold its breath.
"So," Kaelen said at last, his voice dry. "The Weeping Crag."
Thalia nodded, gripping her mother's locket. "To learn the truth about my mother. About betrayal. About the broken promise."
They left the Promise Tree behind, the medals chiming softly in their wake, as if saying farewell.
And deep within Gloomwald, the song changed once more—into a warning note, and perhaps, just a hint of hope.