The fire had long since died, leaving behind only the faint scent of charred wood and blood. The battle against the hunters was over, but Sorin’s body still thrummed with the aftershocks of his Echo’s power.

  He hadn’t meant to use it like that.

  The moment he let go, it had acted on its own—like something living, something that had been waiting for its moment to take hold.

  He clenched his fists.

  "I need to control it. Before it controls me."

  Aeris was already packing up their things, her movements quicker than usual—a sign she was still rattled. She didn’t say anything about the fight, but Sorin could feel the way she kept glancing at him. Watching. Calculating.

  He couldn’t blame her.

  Finally, she broke the silence. "Alright, genius. What’s the plan now?"

  Sorin exhaled. "We still head for the capital."

  Aeris scoffed. "Because that went so well for us last time?"

  He met her gaze. "We need answers. And if the Order knew where to find me, then someone at the capital knows why."

  Aeris sighed, rubbing her temples. "You know, for a guy who’s supposedly haunted by mysterious powers, you sure love throwing yourself into obvious danger."

  Still, she didn’t argue.

  Because, deep down, she knew he was right.

  The capital held secrets. And they couldn’t afford to run from them forever.

  They traveled in silence for most of the morning.

  The landscape had begun to change—the twisted forests and desolate plains slowly gave way to ashen fields, the remnants of a battle long past. The air here was thick with the scent of burnt earth. Skeletons of blackened trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches reaching toward the sky in twisted agony.

  Aeris frowned. "Cinderwake."

  Sorin glanced at her. "You’ve been here before?"

  "Once," she muttered. "Didn’t stay long."

  Sorin understood why. There was something wrong with this place.

  The deeper they walked into the ruins of Cinderwake, the quieter everything became. The wind stopped. The distant calls of birds faded. It was as if the land itself was holding its breath.

  Then Sorin felt it.

  A pulse.

  Not from his Echo—but from the earth itself.

  He stopped. "Do you feel that?"

  Aeris tensed. "Yeah. And I don’t like it."

  Then the ground beneath them shifted.

  A shadow moved.

  And then, the dead began to rise.

  The first one clawed its way out of the blackened soil—a skeletal figure, wrapped in the remnants of armor, its eyes burning with eerie violet light.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Within seconds, dozens of them were emerging from the ground, pulling themselves free from the graves of Cinderwake. Their movements were jerky, unnatural, as if held together by something that should not be.

  Aeris cursed. "Are you kidding me?"

  Sorin drew his sword. "Run or fight?"

  Aeris rolled her shoulders. "You already know my answer."

  Sorin almost smiled.

  Then the Ashbound attacked.

  The first one lunged—faster than expected. Sorin twisted, bringing his blade up to parry. Steel met ancient bone, sparks flying. The force of the impact sent a jolt up his arms.

  These things were strong.

  Aeris was already moving, her daggers flashing as she ducked under an incoming strike and plunged a blade into the creature’s ribs. It barely reacted.

  "Okay," she gritted out. "Stabbing isn’t working. That’s great. Love that for us."

  Sorin pivoted, slicing clean through another Ashbound’s neck. The head rolled, but the body kept moving.

  "Fantastic," he muttered. "They don’t die."

  More of them were closing in, their violet eyes glowing brighter.

  Sorin tightened his grip.

  "The Echo."

  He could feel it waiting. Watching. Wanting.

  He hesitated.

  Not again.

  Then—

  Aeris stumbled.

  One of the Ashbound had grabbed her by the arm, its bony fingers tightening like a vice.

  She tried to twist free, but it was too strong—

  Sorin moved without thinking.

  His Echo surged—a pulse of silver energy blasting outward.

  The Ashbound reeled back, screeching. Its body cracked apart, the violet light in its eyes flickering wildly before it finally collapsed into dust.

  Aeris scrambled back, eyes wide.

  "What the hell was that?"

  Sorin didn’t answer.

  Because something was wrong.

  The other Ashbound—the ones that had been advancing—stopped.

  Then, as one—

  They turned to face Sorin.

  And then—

  Stolen story; please report.

  They bowed.

  Aeris’s breath hitched. "Okay. Nope. I hate that."

  Sorin’s heart pounded.

  Because he knew, deep down, what this meant.

  The Ashbound weren’t just undead.

  They were bound to something.

  Something they recognized.

  Something inside him.

  The violet glow in their eyes flickered—then one of them spoke. Its voice was not its own. It was layered, like countless voices speaking in unison.

  "You have returned."

  Sorin’s blood turned to ice.

  Aeris took a step back. "Uh. Sorin?"

  He swallowed hard.

  "…I don’t think we should be here."

  Then the Ashbound moved.

  Not to attack—

  To kneel.

  And that was somehow so much worse.

  Sorin didn’t move.

  The Ashbound knelt before him, their skeletal forms motionless save for the eerie violet glow of their eyes. The air felt wrong, charged with something ancient and heavy. It pressed down on his chest, made his breath feel shallow.

  Aeris was the first to break the silence.

  "Alright. I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff, but this? This is new."

  Sorin barely heard her. His focus was locked on the nearest Ashbound—the one that had spoken. Its mouth hadn’t moved, yet the words had filled the space around them, layered with voices that were too many and too old.

  "You have returned."

  That phrase. It struck something deep inside him, something he did not remember but felt with chilling certainty.

  A low whisper curled in the back of his mind.

  "Do not deny what you are."

  He clenched his jaw. His grip tightened on his sword, but he didn’t raise it.

  "What do you mean?" he asked.

  The Ashbound didn’t answer right away. Instead, they shifted, like a single entity responding to an unseen command. Then—

  "The Hollow King does not ask what he already knows."

  Sorin’s blood ran cold.

  "Hollow King."

  Aeris muttered something under her breath. "Yeah. Nope. Hate that. That’s bad. That’s very bad."

  Sorin forced himself to stay still. "I’m not a king," he said, voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. "I don’t even know what you’re talking about."

  The Ashbound tilted their heads in unison.

  "You do not remember. But the blood has not forgotten."

  A heavy silence stretched between them.

  Sorin’s heartbeat pounded in his ears.

  The blood has not forgotten.

  "Your return was foreseen," the Ashbound continued. "And your arrival marks the unmaking of the Pact."

  Sorin didn’t have time to process that before the air shifted again—a deep, guttural roar echoing from the far end of the ruins.

  The Ashbound stiffened. Then, as if some silent order had been given, they turned and began to sink back into the earth.

  Within seconds, the kneeling figures were gone, vanishing into the ashen ground like they had never been there.

  Only one remained.

  It turned to Sorin, its eyes flickering.

  "The Usurper watches," it whispered. "Beware the man with the burning crown."

  Then it, too, crumbled to dust.

  Silence.

  Only the wind remained, whispering through the skeletal remains of Cinderwake.

  Aeris finally spoke. "So. Uh. What the hell just happened?"

  Sorin didn’t have an answer.

  He was still reeling from the weight of what he’d just heard.

  The Hollow King. The Pact. The Usurper.

  A name clawed at the edges of his mind, just out of reach. Something he should know.

  Instead, all he could do was turn to Aeris, his voice quieter than before.

  "We need to leave. Now."

  She didn’t argue.

  Because, for once, she was just as shaken as he was.

  They moved quickly, putting as much distance between themselves and Cinderwake as possible.

  The sky darkened as evening set in, the sun casting long shadows across the jagged remains of war-torn structures. Aeris was unusually quiet, her usual sarcasm absent.

  Sorin knew why.

  "You’re thinking about what they said," he muttered.

  Aeris shot him a sidelong glance. "Yeah, no sh*t I’m thinking about it. ‘Hollow King’? ‘Usurper’? ‘Blood has not forgotten’?" She gestured wildly. "What does that even mean?"

  "I don’t know."

  Aeris scoffed. "Of course you don’t. Because nothing in this insane world can ever be normal."

  Sorin didn’t respond. Because she was right.

  Nothing in his life had ever been normal.

  Then—

  A flicker of movement.

  Sorin reacted instantly, spinning, sword in hand.

  A figure stepped from the shadows of a crumbling stone pillar.

  Tall. Cloaked in tattered black, a mask of bone and gold concealing their face. Their presence was… unnatural. It felt like standing in the eye of a storm, where everything was too still, too quiet.

  Aeris had her daggers drawn in a second. "Oh, great. More nightmare people. Fantastic."

  The figure lifted their head slightly. The golden etchings on the mask caught the fading light, glinting like molten fire.

  "You bear the Echo," they said.

  Their voice was deep. Measured. Like someone who already knew the answers to the questions they asked.

  Sorin didn’t lower his sword. "Who are you?"

  The figure didn’t respond right away. Then, slowly, they placed a hand over their chest—a gesture of acknowledgment, not threat.

  "I am one who has been waiting."

  Sorin’s fingers tightened on his hilt. "For what?"

  A pause.

  Then—

  "For you."

  Aeris let out a sharp breath. "Yeah. Nope. Hate that."

  The figure continued, unbothered.

  "You are not yet what you will become. But the Ruinborn know you walk the path, even if your eyes are blind to it."

  Sorin’s stomach twisted.

  The Ruinborn. He had heard that name before. Whispers in the dark, old stories that spoke of a group that shouldn’t exist.

  No one knew if they were legend or reality. Only that they were said to be… watching.

  Always watching.

  Sorin’s voice was steady when he spoke. "Why are you here?"

  The figure tilted their head. "To offer a warning."

  Aeris sighed. "Oh, good. Because we haven’t gotten enough of those lately."

  The Ruinborn ignored her. Their masked face remained locked on Sorin.

  "You stand at the precipice," they said. "The past calls to you. The Echo stirs. The world remembers."

  Sorin stayed silent.

  "The Usurper knows." The masked figure took a step forward. "He knows you live. And he will not let you awaken."

  Aeris’s expression darkened. "And who exactly is ‘the Usurper’?"

  The Ruinborn’s mask tilted slightly.

  "The one who stole the throne of the Hollow King."

  The words sent an icy shiver down Sorin’s spine.

  Something inside him whispered. A name.

  But before he could grasp it—

  The Ruinborn turned sharply, looking toward the far cliffs.

  A moment later, a distant horn sounded. Low. Echoing. Hunting.

  The masked figure stepped back into the shadows.

  "The Hunt is coming," they said. "If you wish to survive, do not let them find you."

  Then, like a wisp of smoke, they were gone.

  Sorin and Aeris stood in stunned silence.

  Then Aeris let out a breath. "We’re in deep sh*t, aren’t we?"

  Sorin exhaled slowly.

  "Yeah."

  And then, from the cliffs—

  The hunters arrived.

  The horn’s echo hadn’t even faded before Sorin moved.

  "Run."

  Aeris didn’t hesitate.

  They sprinted across the ruined expanse of Cinderwake, weaving between charred pillars and skeletal remains of old buildings. The air thrummed with unseen energy, charged with something ancient and watchful.

  Then came the sound Sorin dreaded—

  The howls.

  Low at first, then rising in a cacophony of chilling, predatory voices. They weren’t the cries of ordinary beasts. No, these were something worse. Something created for the hunt.

  Aeris risked a glance over her shoulder. "Tell me that’s just the wind."

  Sorin didn’t answer.

  Because they were being followed.

  The hunters had arrived.

  The first figure emerged from the smoke—clad in dark, layered armor, moving with unnatural grace. A silver insignia gleamed on their chestplate.

  The Order.

  But they weren’t alone.

  Flanking them were creatures—lithe, skeletal things with elongated limbs and too many joints. Their flesh was blackened, stretched taut over their bones, and their glowing amber eyes locked onto Sorin.

  Aeris swore. "What the hell are those?"

  Sorin’s gut twisted. "Hounds of the Order."

  "Of course they have nightmare dogs."

  The lead hunter raised a signal blade, and the creatures lunged.

  Sorin barely had time to react. He twisted, blade flashing as the first hound came down on him. Its claws screeched against steel, the force of its attack sending a shock up his arms.

  Aeris was already moving, flipping backward as a second hound snapped at her throat. She lashed out with a dagger, slicing a deep gash across its side.

  It didn’t slow down.

  Sorin cursed, stepping back just as another hunter—this one faster than the rest—closed the distance between them. Their blade was wreathed in white fire, burning hot against the evening air.

  Sorin blocked the first strike—barely. Sparks flew.

  Then the hunter spoke.

  "Hollowborn."

  The word sent ice through his veins.

  The hunter pressed forward, striking with brutal precision. Sorin barely dodged the next blow, his instincts screaming at him—

  "You can’t win this fight."

  "Run."

  But something inside him rebelled.

  His Echo surged—power flooding his limbs, sharpening his senses. The world slowed.

  The hunter’s next attack came—a downward slash, meant to cleave Sorin’s shoulder. He sidestepped at the last second, twisting his blade underneath the strike—

  And drove it straight into the hunter’s ribs.

  The man let out a strangled gasp—staggering, coughing blood.

  Then—he smiled.

  Sorin’s stomach dropped.

  "Too late," the hunter rasped.

  A pulse of light erupted from his body—blinding, searing. Sorin reeled back, vision flashing white.

  And in that instant—

  A dozen more hunters appeared on the ridge above them.

  Waiting. Watching. Trapping them.

  Aeris’s voice was tight. "Sorin?"

  He clenched his jaw. His Echo still burned, still hummed with power.

  They couldn’t fight all of them.

  But they weren’t going to surrender, either.

  Sorin inhaled.

  "Follow me."

  And then—

  He ran straight toward the edge of the cliffs.

  The ground sloped downward, jagged rocks giving way to a sheer drop. The ruined landscape of Cinderwake ended here—beyond the cliffs, nothing but darkness stretched below. A chasm, deep and ancient, splitting the land in two.

  Aeris skidded to a stop. "Sorin, tell me you’re not seriously thinking—"

  He grabbed her hand and leapt.

  The wind rushed past them.

  The last thing Sorin saw before the abyss swallowed them was the stunned faces of the hunters above.

  Then—

  Darkness.

  The air twisted.

  Something waited below.

  And as they fell—

  Sorin heard it whisper.

  "Welcome home."