Chapter 23: Whispers Between Worlds

The road to Aetherion was long and silent.

Ashen's boots pressed into the frost-covered soil, each step leaving behind faint scorch marks. The flame inside him didn't sleep anymore—it pulsed steadily in his chest, like a second heartbeat. Ever since the Hollow, it felt different. Smarter. Older. As if it remembered things Ashen had never seen.

Three days passed with little trouble. Trees gave way to barren hills. Stars stretched endlessly above. Ashen traveled mostly alone, save for the occasional merchant or guard patrol passing him with wary glances.

But it was on the fourth night that the world began to shift.

---

The fire crackled quietly in his campsite, just beyond a broken stone marker that looked like it once belonged to an old shrine. Ashen sat beside it, poking the flame with a stick, lost in thought.

That's when he heard it.

A voice—clear and uninvited—echoed softly in his mind:

> "You really shouldn't burn wood like that. It smokes too much. You'll attract something… unpleasant."

Ashen leapt to his feet, eyes scanning the dark. "Who's there?"

Silence.

Only the wind responded, whispering through the branches.

Ashen turned in a slow circle, flame gathering in his palm.

> "Don't worry. I'm not here here. Just passing by."

The voice was strange—calm, curious, and… amused.

"Show yourself!" Ashen demanded.

> "Not yet. You're not ready. But I couldn't resist watching. You're much more interesting than the last one."

The flame in Ashen's hand flickered violently. "Last what?"

> "Last Ascendant."

And then the voice was gone.

Ashen stood frozen, heart pounding. Had he imagined it?

But then he looked at the fire.

It was burning upward, unnaturally, as if something had grabbed the flame and pulled it toward the sky. And in the smoke above, for just a moment, Ashen saw a symbol: a clock with no hands and a circle of stars around it.

---

He didn't sleep much that night.

And when morning came, he found something strange buried beneath the shrine stone: a small, gear-shaped pendant, cold to the touch but humming faintly with energy.

Etched on its side were four words in a language he didn't recognize.

And yet… somehow, he understood them.

"Invent. Adapt. Ascend. Rebuild."

Ashen pocketed the pendant and moved on, trying to shake off the unease.

But he couldn't help feeling that something—or someone—was watching him now.

And it wasn't the Council.

---

Far away, in a place beyond flame and time, a figure sat at a table filled with half-built devices, broken hourglasses, and floating blueprints.

He smiled, swirling a cup of dark tea.

> "Oh, Ashen," he said softly, eyes glowing behind his strange mask. "Let's see how far you make it before the others find you."

Then he snapped his fingers.

And the world shivered.