The words on the stone tablet burned into Sorin’s mind.

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

  "The world will burn."

  Sorin clenched his fists, his breath coming in slow, measured exhales. The weight of the words pressed down on him, heavy as chains.

  Aeris, standing beside him, crossed her arms. "Well. That’s not ominous at all."

  Sorin didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

  Because part of him already knew.

  He had felt it since the moment his Echo first stirred. The power that coiled inside him, waiting. The whispers that weren’t just voices, but memories—ancient, endless, his but not his.

  And now, the confirmation was right in front of him.

  The world wasn’t just afraid of the Hollowborn.

  It had been warned about them.

  Aeris nudged him. “Hey. Say something. Your face is doing that whole ‘brooding and haunted’ thing again.”

  Sorin exhaled, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “What if it’s true?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What if what’s true?”

  “This.” He gestured at the stone tablet. “What if I really am… something that shouldn’t exist?”

  Aeris studied him for a moment, then scoffed. “Please. You think you’re the first person who’s had a prophecy tell them they’re bad news? Half of history is just people being dramatic about things they don’t understand.”

  Sorin didn’t respond.

  Because it wasn’t just some prophecy.

  It was history.

  A warning carved into stone, locked inside an ancient archive, guarded by something that had existed for centuries.

  Aeris must have sensed his doubt because her expression shifted. The usual smirk faded, replaced by something… softer.

  "Listen," she said. "I don’t trust prophecies. I trust choices."

  She tapped his chest lightly, just over his heart. "You’re the only one who gets to decide what you are. Got it?"

  Sorin swallowed.

  He wanted to believe that.

  Desperately.

  But deep down, something whispered:

  "You’ve already made your choice. You just don’t remember it."

  The Sunken Archive didn’t collapse when they left it, which Aeris counted as a win.

  Sorin, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure.

  The Guardian had watched them go without another word, its mask unreadable. It had not attacked. It had not demanded anything more.

  And somehow, that was worse.

  Like it already knew where Sorin’s path would lead.

  They stepped out into the open air, the desolate wasteland stretching before them. The sky was an endless gray expanse, heavy with the weight of an impending storm.

  Aeris stretched, groaning. “Alright, what’s next? Please tell me it’s something that doesn’t involve cryptic ruins or existential dread.”

  Sorin glanced at the horizon. “We head east.”

  Aeris blinked. “That’s where the capital is.”

  “I know.”

  She frowned. “We just found out that people like you are legendary-level dangerous. And your plan is to walk straight toward the biggest, most powerful city in the region?”

  Sorin didn’t hesitate. “There are people there who might know more.”

  Aeris groaned. “Why do I even bother?”

  Still, she didn’t argue further.

  Because they both knew the truth: avoiding answers wouldn’t change them.

  So they walked.

  They traveled for two days.

  Through ruined plains and twisted forests, where the bones of long-dead creatures jutted from the earth like grotesque monuments.

  Neither of them spoke much.

  Sorin was deep in thought, turning over the words from the Archive, the vision he had seen in the trial.

  Aeris, for all her sarcasm, seemed to sense his need for silence.

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  But on the third night, everything changed.

  Sorin woke to the scent of blood.

  His eyes snapped open.

  The fire had burned low, casting long, flickering shadows. Aeris was already up, crouched low, daggers drawn.

  She glanced at him. "We’re not alone."

  Sorin sat up, senses sharpening. He felt it now—the weight of unseen eyes, the shift in the air.

  And then—

  A whisper, just beyond the firelight.

  "Found you."

  Aeris moved first.

  Her dagger whipped through the air, aimed for the voice—

  It never landed.

  A hand shot out of the darkness, catching the blade mid-flight.

  And from the shadows, they stepped forward.

  The hunters.

  Three figures, clad in dark armor, their insignias marked with silver sigils. The emblem of the Order of the Cleansing Flame.

  Sorin’s blood turned to ice.

  He knew that sigil.

  The world’s deadliest hunters. And they had come for him.

  The leader stepped forward, a woman with ashen-gray hair and eyes that burned like embers.

  "You," she said, voice steady, cold. "Are an abomination."

  Sorin met her gaze, his body tensing. “I don’t know who you think I am.”

  The woman’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

  "Liar."

  Then, in a single, fluid motion—

  She attacked.

  Sorin barely had time to block before her blade came crashing down. The force sent him skidding back, his boots digging into the dirt.

  Aeris was already moving. She lunged at the nearest hunter, vanishing into the shadows—but her opponent anticipated it.

  A wall of fire erupted from the ground, cutting off her escape.

  Aeris swore. "Great. Fire mages. Because this wasn’t hard enough already."

  Sorin clenched his jaw.

  This wasn’t just an ambush.

  This was an execution.

  And the Order didn’t leave survivors.

  The battle was brutal.

  Sorin’s sword clashed against the hunter’s strikes, each one heavier than the last. The woman fought like a storm—precise, relentless, merciless.

  Aeris weaved between her two opponents, quick as lightning, but the flames forced her to keep moving, never giving her a moment to counter.

  They were losing.

  And the hunters knew it.

  The woman’s blade caught Sorin’s shoulder, searing pain lancing through him. He stumbled, vision swimming.

  She raised her sword for the finishing strike—

  The Echo surged.

  The world tilted.

  For an instant, Sorin saw it again.

  Flashes of golden light. Burning ruins. A voice—his own, but not his—whispering words of power.

  He exhaled.

  And let the Echo take hold.

  The air shuddered.

  A pulse of silver energy erupted from Sorin’s body, shattering the flames around them. The hunters staggered, their eyes widening in shock.

  The woman hesitated.

  "Impossible—"

  Sorin’s voice was low. Unfamiliar.

  "Run."

  She didn’t.

  So he moved.

  Faster than thought, his blade cut through the space between them, silver light trailing behind it. The woman barely blocked in time—

  But Sorin was stronger now.

  And he was done holding back.

  The ground trembled beneath Sorin’s feet.

  The moment his Echo surged, the world seemed to slow. His vision sharpened, details crisp in a way that felt inhuman. The glow of Aeris’s daggers, the way the firelight flickered in the hunter’s narrowed eyes—he could see it all.

  He moved before thought could catch up.

  His sword clashed against the woman’s again, but this time, he felt the difference. She wasn’t just defending—she was struggling to keep up.

  He pressed forward, each strike heavier than the last. Sparks flew. The air crackled. The woman’s stance wavered for the first time.

  "This power…" Sorin thought. "I shouldn’t be able to—"

  A voice cut through his mind. Ancient. Familiar. Not his.

  "You are only remembering."

  Sorin’s grip tightened.

  The hunter lunged again, her blade glowing with arcane fire. Sorin didn’t dodge.

  He caught the burning steel in his bare hand.

  The woman’s eyes widened in shock—

  Then silver energy erupted from his palm, shattering the sword like brittle glass.

  For the first time, her expression cracked.

  "This isn’t possible," she whispered.

  Sorin wasn’t listening.

  Something inside him was awakening. And it was hungry.

  Aeris had no time to admire Sorin’s display of terrifying power.

  She was still outnumbered.

  One of the remaining hunters—a tall man wielding twin knives wreathed in fire—lashed out at her. Aeris ducked low, narrowly avoiding the searing blades, before countering with a quick slash toward his ribs.

  He twisted away at the last second, but her dagger caught his side, tearing through his armor.

  "Got you," she breathed.

  The hunter snarled and retaliated with a sweep of blazing energy, forcing her to roll away. Heat scorched her arm, but she gritted her teeth and kept moving.

  She flicked her eyes toward Sorin—

  And her stomach dropped.

  He was winning. But something about the way he moved—his expression, his stance—was wrong.

  A cold presence pulsed from him, like a heartbeat out of sync with reality.

  Aeris had seen him lose control before.

  This was worse.

  The hunter facing Sorin stumbled back, fear finally showing in her eyes. "You don’t understand what you’re touching, Hollowborn."

  Sorin stepped forward.

  His voice was lower. Distorted.

  "I understand enough."

  A pulse of silver light lashed out from his body—

  And the hunter screamed.

  Her armor cracked apart, veins of glowing energy spreading through the metal like lightning crawling across a stormy sky. The ground beneath her fractured, and she collapsed to one knee.

  For a moment, Sorin almost struck the killing blow.

  Almost.

  Then—

  "Aeris."

  Her voice cut through the haze, sharp and real.

  Sorin’s fingers trembled on the hilt of his sword.

  His heart was slamming against his ribs.

  The energy inside him surged, desperate to be used. It whispered—told him how easy it would be. How one more strike would end it.

  Aeris’s gaze locked onto his, unwavering.

  "Sorin," she said again, calm, but firm. "Don’t."

  Sorin hesitated.

  And in that hesitation, the surviving hunters moved.

  A flare of blinding fire erupted between them. Aeris stumbled back, shielding her eyes. Sorin tried to close the distance, but by the time the light faded—

  The hunters were gone.

  A retreat. A regroup.

  But not a surrender.

  The fight was over.

  For now.

  Silence settled over the battlefield, broken only by the crackling remains of the fire.

  Sorin exhaled slowly, his grip loosening. The glow of the Echo faded, retreating back into his skin. His limbs felt heavy—too heavy. Like the power had drained something vital from him.

  Aeris sheathed her daggers and turned to him. "Alright. What the hell was that?"

  Sorin hesitated. "I… don’t know."

  Aeris gave him a long, unreadable look. Then, she sighed and sat down on a nearby rock, rubbing her temples.

  "Let’s go over the facts, shall we?" she said, voice laced with sarcasm. "One: We just got ambushed by some of the most dangerous hunters in the world. Two: They weren’t just hunting a Hollowborn—they were expecting you. And three—" She gestured vaguely at him. "You pulled some insane, reality-warping, ‘I-don’t-even-know-what’ magic, and it freaked them out."

  Sorin didn’t respond.

  Because he couldn’t deny any of it.

  Aeris exhaled, her usual smirk absent. "Look. I don’t know what’s happening to you. But I do know one thing."

  Sorin met her gaze.

  "You need to get your shit under control."

  He nodded slowly. "I know."

  She studied him for a moment longer, then sighed. "Alright. We keep moving. But no more cryptic ruins or death squads for at least a day, okay?"

  Sorin almost smiled. Almost.

  But as he turned toward the distant horizon, something gnawed at him.

  The hunters had called him an abomination.

  But the way they had looked at him—fearful, desperate—

  It wasn’t just hatred.

  It was terror.

  As if they knew something he didn’t.

  As if they were trying to stop something before it started.

  And that thought refused to leave his mind.