Evelyn ran.
The world narrowed to the slap of feet against earth, the whip of branches across her cheeks, and the steady, climbing heat radiating from the core clenched against her chest. The forest no longer felt like a place she had grown up in. It pulsed and shifted, unfamiliar, alien. And behind her—
The thing followed.
Torren surged ahead, sword drawn, his breathing heavy but measured. "Ravine's close!" he shouted over his shoulder. "If we can drop down—lose it in the shale—"
A branch snapped behind them. The Echoed made no sound of breath or pain, only the faint tick-tick-tick of claws against bark. It moved like smoke wearing skin.
Evelyn's knees buckled as another wave of pressure rippled through the core. Her vision blurred. The trees around her… wavered. Split in two, as if she saw two versions of the world overlaid: one real, green and shadowed—and another ancient, gray and full of embers. In that ghost-world, the forest was ash and bone. In that world, she heard music.
A woman's voice, soft and cold:
The fire walks again, child. Open your chest and feed it.
"Evelyn!" Torren grabbed her arm, yanking her forward as a branch exploded beside them—ripped apart by a strike she hadn't even seen. "Don't stop!"
"I didn't—" She couldn't finish. Her mouth was dry. The core burned hotter. Her fingers felt fused to its jagged edges.
They broke the tree line—and the ground fell away beneath them.
The ravine yawned wide, a hundred feet deep and flanked by sharp stone outcrops. Torren didn't hesitate. He slid down the steep incline, using roots and jutting rock to slow his fall.
Evelyn followed, half-tumbling, half-guided by momentum and desperation.
The Echoed paused at the top of the slope. It didn't follow.
It watched.
And then it spoke.
Not in voice, but in her mind—a press of thought like cold oil.
You are not ready, ember-child. But you will burn regardless.
Then it vanished. Not fled—vanished. Like mist in morning light.
Evelyn collapsed against a boulder, chest heaving. Her cloak was torn. Her boots bled at the seams.
Torren dropped beside her, hands on his knees. "That… was not a beast. That was something else."
She nodded, unable to speak. The core flared once more—and then went dark.
But the damage was done.
In her veins, something glowed. Her skin was warm. Too warm. Beneath her breastbone, near her heart, something… shifted.
She'd held the core too long.
And something inside her had opened its eyes.