Awakening the Echo

In the darkness, Julius knelt, breathing in the heavy scent of dust and old books. His hand hovered, shaking, near the warm, smooth stone in the wall. The emptiness inside him hummed with it, matching its rhythm. It felt like something lost had finally been found.

Fear warred with a desperate need to understand. Charon's face, dissolving into light and ozone, flashed in his mind. Find the mirrored fragments! The Echo Witch's terrified shriek. Demon-marked! Fragments! This stone… it felt like one. It had to be.

He took a shaky breath. The cold of the tower floor seeped into his knees, a stark contrast to the gentle warmth radiating from the stone. This was more than just finding a clue; it felt like finding a part of himself he never knew existed. Steeling himself, ignoring the frantic pounding of his heart, Julius pressed his palm flat against the smooth surface.

Contact.

It wasn't a gentle joining. It was a shock, a jolt that wasn't just physical. It slammed into the quiet emptiness within him like a fist hitting still water. The warmth surged, becoming an intense heat that traveled up his arm, making his bones ache. The gentle hum inside him pitched higher, turning into a sharp, demanding whine.

He tried to pull back, instinct screaming danger, but he couldn't. It felt like the stone had latched onto him, or perhaps the emptiness inside him had latched onto the stone. A fierce, invisible struggle began. It wasn't like absorbing energy; it felt like pushing against something solid, something that pushed back with equal force.

Pain flared behind his eyes. The stone pulsed against his palm, not with warmth now, but with a stubborn, cold resistance. It felt… unwilling. Like a creature startled from a long sleep, fighting the intrusion. Julius gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill air. He pushed harder, not with his muscles, but with that strange, inner void. The emptiness wasn't passive; it had a gravity, a pull. It wanted this connection, this… resonance.

For a heart-stopping moment, the resistance held firm. It felt like trying to force two powerful magnets together the wrong way. Julius felt dizzy, the darkness of the archive swirling around him. He could feel the stone fighting him, rejecting the link. Why? If this was a fragment, like him, shouldn't they connect?

Then, something gave. Not a clean break, but a crack in the resistance. The opposing force lessened just enough for something else to surge through the fragile connection. It wasn't warmth or energy. It was… awareness. Images.

His own senses vanished. The cold stone floor, the dusty air, the smell of old paper – all gone. He wasn't in the Scriptorium anymore.

He saw… light. Blindingly bright, artificial light, unlike any sun he'd ever known. Strange, tall structures made of smooth, gleaming metal and glass pierced a sky that wasn't grey or brown, but a startling, vibrant blue. Noise filled the air – a constant hum, sharp beeps, the roar of things moving impossibly fast.

And standing amidst it all was… him.

Or rather, someone who looked startlingly like him, perhaps a little older, his face sharper, cleaner. He wore clothes Julius couldn't comprehend – smooth fabrics in bright, unnatural colours, without a speck of dust or patch on them. This other Julius wasn't crouching in fear or running for his life. He stood tall, holding a thin, glowing rectangle in his hand, his expression shifting rapidly as he looked around, not at the strange world, but as if searching for something unseen.

Then, the other Julius's eyes snapped forward, locking onto… nothing? Or perhaps, onto the point of view Julius himself occupied. The confusion on the other boy's face hardened instantly into suspicion, then into something colder. Hostility. A spark of anger flared in those familiar-yet-different eyes. His mouth opened, forming a word Julius couldn't hear over the din of the strange world, but the shape looked sharp, like a curse or a command. He raised a hand, not in greeting, but as if to ward off something vile.

The connection, fragile and forced, shattered.

It snapped back like an overstretched cord. Julius cried out, flung backward from the wall as if physically struck. He landed hard on the dusty stone floor, the air knocked from his lungs. Pain exploded behind his eyes, sharp and blinding. Warm, sticky liquid trickled from his nose – blood, just like after the encounter with the Knight.

He lay still, breathing hard, the dark returning to cover what never should have been seen.

His head spun violently. The warmth from the stone in the wall was gone, replaced by the familiar, deep cold of the ancient tower. The resonance inside him felt… jagged, disturbed. The quiet pool was now a stormy sea.

Who was that? Another Julius? In another… world? Why did he look so angry, so hostile? Was that a mirrored fragment? Not a thing, but a person? Charon's words felt infinitely more complex, more dangerous now. Scattered like reflections…

He pushed himself up on shaky arms and wiped the blood from his lip. The silence in the archive returned, but it wasn't the same. Charged. He looked back at the smooth stone in the wall. It seemed inert now, just a part of the structure. But he knew better. It was awake. And awakening it… it felt like he'd done something irreversible. Something loud.

A slight tremor passed through the stone floor beneath him – barely there, but real. It wasn't the wind. It wasn't him. It felt deep, far away. Like a bell ringing somewhere distant, its echo moving through the ground.

Had someone, or something, felt that? Had touching the fragment, forcing that brief, hostile connection, sent out a ripple?

The Scriptorium suddenly felt less like a sanctuary of secrets and more like a trap about to spring. He needed the map. He needed the scrolls he'd tucked into his tunic. He needed to get out. Now. Before whatever felt that tremor came to investigate. The hunt wasn't just behind him anymore; he might have just announced his presence to something far worse.