Chapter Two: The Gathering Shadows
Chapter Two: The Gathering Shadows
Elara moved through the ruins with practiced silence, her heartbeat steady despite the weight of centuries pressing down on her. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and old magic, the kind that lingered in places long forgotten. Each step she took was measured, her body remembering the art of moving unseen—even if her mind still reeled from the memories that had flooded her moments ago.
The cultists stood in a tight circle around the altar, their dark robes shifting with the flickering light of the sigils etched into the stone. The words they chanted in their strange, guttural tongue sent a shiver through her. She understood them—not fully, not yet—but the cadence, the intent, was clear. A summoning.
Elara's fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger. She had seen rituals like this before, in past lives she barely recalled. They never ended well.
One of the cultists stepped forward, their hands raised above the altar. A brilliant pulse of blue light flared from the stone, illuminating the ruined city for the briefest of moments. Then, as quickly as it had come, the light dimmed, drawn into the altar like breath into lungs.
A shadow formed.
It writhed, stretching unnaturally, its shape shifting between something human and something… else.
Elara's breath caught. She had expected magic, but not this. This was something older, something primal.
The figure at the altar spoke, their voice a whisper that seemed to carry through the ruins. "We call upon the Echo. Let it be reborn in shadow."
Echo.
The word struck a chord deep inside her.
Her past lives had spoken of an Echo before. A being, a force, something that tied her to this endless cycle. Could this be it? Could she finally be standing at the threshold of understanding why she kept coming back?
Elara shifted her position, readying herself. She could not let the ritual be completed. Whatever was being called forth, she knew—felt—that it would tip the balance of the world in ways she could not allow.
A movement at the edge of her vision made her freeze.
She wasn't alone in the ruins.
A second figure, cloaked but distinct from the cultists, stood in the shadows opposite her. Watching. Waiting. Their presence sent a prickle of recognition through her, though she could not see their face.
Who are you?
Elara had no time to question. The cultists' chanting reached a crescendo, and the shadow at the altar solidified into a form unlike anything she had ever seen.
It turned.
And its eyes—glowing, hollow, endless—locked onto hers.
The world tilted, and a whisper curled around her mind.
"I remember you."
Elara's grip on her dagger tightened.
This was only the beginning.