The night was unnaturally quiet.

  No wind. No distant howls. Just silence, thick and suffocating.

  Sorin sat near the dying embers of their fire, his gaze distant. The battle had ended hours ago, but its weight still pressed against his chest.

  The Echo had stirred. Nearly taken control.

  He pressed a hand against his side, where Aeris had stabbed him. The wound had already closed, but the dull ache remained. A reminder.

  "She pulled me back."

  Aeris, sitting across from him, watched him carefully. She wasn’t speaking—not in her usual sharp, teasing way. That was worse.

  Sorin exhaled. “Go ahead.”

  Aeris blinked. “Go ahead with what?”

  “Whatever question you’ve been holding back.”

  She scoffed. “You assume I have questions.”

  “You’re burning with them.”

  A beat of silence. Then, finally—

  “…What happened back there?”

  Sorin closed his eyes. He could still feel it. The moment his Echo had fully awakened. The world had warped, his mind barely tethered to his body.

  “I lost control.”

  Aeris raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I got that part. What I mean is—what the hell are you?”

  Sorin hesitated.

  He could lie. He could push her away.

  But she had saved him. He owed her the truth.

  “…I don’t know.”

  Aeris’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I mean exactly that.” His voice was quiet, but firm. “I’ve never understood what I am. The Echo—it’s always been a part of me. But it’s never been like that before.”

  Aeris studied him. He expected her usual sharp retort, but instead, she just sighed.

  “Well. That’s terrifying.”

  Sorin huffed a short laugh. “Tell me about it.”

  She stretched, groaning. “I don’t suppose this changes our plan?”

  Sorin shook his head. “We keep moving.”

  Aeris stood, brushing dirt off her cloak. “Good. Because we’re almost there.”

  Sorin followed her gaze.

  In the distance, beyond the endless wasteland, the Sunken Archive awaited.

  By midday, they had reached it.

  The Sunken Archive.

  A ruin older than kingdoms, buried beneath the earth like a forgotten corpse. Jagged black stone jutted from the cracked landscape, half-swallowed by time.

  The entrance loomed ahead—a massive gate, sealed tight, covered in strange carvings. Symbols that pulsed with a faint, golden glow.

  Aeris stepped forward, trailing her fingers along the stone. “Barrier’s intact.”

  Sorin frowned. “Which means it’s still holding something in.”

  Aeris grinned. “Or keeping people out.”

  Sorin wasn’t sure which was worse.

  Aeris dug into her satchel, pulling out a small, rusted sigil. “Found this back in Vhalis. Should work as a key.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  She pressed it against the carvings.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then—

  The ground shuddered.

  The runes flared, light rushing through the carvings in a golden cascade. The air hummed, thick with unseen power.

  Then, slowly, the gate opened.

  A cold, hollow wind rushed out.

  The air smelled of dust. Stone. And something else.

  Something ancient.

  Aeris grinned. “After you.”

  Sorin exhaled. Then, without another word, he stepped inside.

  The darkness swallowed them whole.

  The descent was long.

  Twisting stairways, carved from stone, led deeper and deeper into the ruins. Strange symbols lined the walls, some faded, some glowing with faint golden light.

  The deeper they went, the colder it became.

  Aeris rubbed her arms. “Feels like we’re walking straight into the mouth of something.”

  Sorin didn’t respond.

  Because she wasn’t wrong.

  At the bottom of the stairs, the passage opened into a vast chamber.

  Sorin’s breath caught.

  Rows upon rows of stone tablets stretched into the distance, illuminated by ghostly blue flames. The air was thick with whispers—thousands of voices, speaking all at once.

  Aeris took a slow step forward. “It’s… a graveyard.”

  No.

  Sorin knew what this place was.

  It was knowledge.

  Preserved memories.

  The whispers were the dead.

  And they were speaking to him.

  Then—

  A new voice cut through the rest.

  Cold. Hollow. Waiting.

  "Hollowborn."

  Sorin stiffened.

  The flames flickered. The ground trembled. And from the shadows, something moved.

  A guardian of the Archive.

  And it was watching him.

  The shadows twisted.

  A massive figure stepped into the pale glow of the blue flames, its form shifting as if it was only half-real.

  Sorin’s grip tightened on his sword. This thing wasn’t human.

  It stood at least ten feet tall, its body composed of tattered black robes and jagged bone, its face hidden beneath a cracked mask. Strange symbols glowed faintly along its skeletal limbs, mirroring the runes on the walls.

  But the worst part—

  It had no eyes.

  Just an empty void beneath its mask.

  And yet, Sorin felt it looking at him.

  "Hollowborn," the Guardian whispered again, its voice deep and ancient. "Why have you come?"

  Sorin and Aeris exchanged a look.

  Aeris, ever the diplomat, cleared her throat. “Uh. We’re just passing through. We don’t want trouble—”

  "Lies."

  The Guardian moved.

  Not walked. Glided. The ground did not tremble beneath its weight—it simply shifted, as though reality bent to accommodate it.

  "You seek the forbidden."

  Aeris muttered under her breath, “Okay. So that’s a no on friendly conversation.”

  Sorin stepped forward, meeting the Guardian’s empty gaze. “We need answers.”

  "Knowledge is not given. It is earned."

  Sorin frowned. “And how do we—”

  The flames in the room flared.

  The Guardian raised its hand.

  "Survive."

  Then the world shattered.

  The air twisted.

  One moment, they were standing in the archive. The next—

  They were somewhere else.

  The chamber melted away, replaced by an endless abyss. Floating stone platforms stretched out in all directions, suspended in midair. Strange golden symbols hovered in the darkness, shifting like liquid light.

  And across from them—

  The Guardian.

  But now, it was not alone.

  Shapes emerged from the void. Armor-clad wraiths, their weapons forged from the same shifting gold. Their forms flickered, half-there, like they had been summoned from a memory that refused to fade.

  Sorin clenched his jaw. A trial.

  Aeris drew her daggers. “I’m guessing we don’t get to opt out of this?”

  The Guardian’s mask tilted slightly.

  "Prove your worth."

  The wraiths attacked.

  Sorin barely had time to react.

  The first wraith lunged, its blade slashing through the air in a blinding arc. Sorin parried, but the force of the strike nearly sent him stumbling off the platform.

  Fast. Too fast.

  Another wraith struck from the side. Aeris intercepted it, her daggers clashing against its golden sword.

  The battle had begun.

  Sorin pivoted, stepping into his next swing. His sword carved through the first wraith—but there was no blood.

  Just light.

  The creature shattered like glass, its form dissolving into fragments of gold.

  But for every one that fell, two more emerged from the abyss.

  Aeris cursed. “This is a bad fight. These things aren’t real, but they’re damn good at killing!”

  Sorin didn’t answer.

  Because something was wrong.

  The Echo inside him was stirring again.

  Whispering.

  Not like before—not an urge to destroy, but something different.

  A memory.

  For a single instant, the battlefield blurred.

  And then—

  Sorin saw something else.

  A city, burning beneath a golden sky.

  Figures standing in this exact abyss. Fighting these same wraiths.

  A voice—his voice, but not his voice—whispering an incantation.

  And then—

  Power.

  Sorin’s breath hitched. The vision faded, but the knowledge remained. The Echo had shown him something.

  A way to end this fight.

  He exhaled. Shifted his stance.

  And spoke the words that had been buried in his blood for an eternity.

  "Break the chain."

  The abyss responded.

  The golden symbols fractured.

  And the wraiths—every single one of them—froze.

  For the first time, the Guardian hesitated.

  Sorin lifted his sword, eyes glowing silver.

  “This trial is over.”

  Then he swung.

  The abyss collapsed.

  Sorin gasped as reality snapped back into place.

  They were standing in the archive once more. The endless abyss, the floating platforms—all gone.

  But the Guardian remained.

  And now—

  It was kneeling.

  "You have proven your right to know," it intoned.

  Aeris, panting, wiped sweat from her brow. “Next time, can we just take a written test?”

  The Guardian ignored her. It lifted its arm, and from the floor, something rose.

  A stone tablet, covered in the same golden script. The symbols rearranged, forming words Sorin could understand.

  A record.

  A piece of the past, buried beneath centuries of silence.

  Sorin stepped forward.

  And then—

  He read his own name.

  Aeris frowned. “What is it?”

  Sorin didn’t answer. His hands clenched into fists.

  Because the tablet wasn’t just a record.

  It was a warning.

  "The Hollowborn shall awaken. And when they do—"

  "The world will burn."