By dawn, the battlefield was quiet.
Charred branches littered the valley floor. Where the Hollowed had fallen, only ash remained, twisting on the breeze like dying embers. Kael leaned against a scorched boulder, wrapping a cloth around a shallow cut on his shoulder. Aria sat nearby, the obsidian dagger once again resting in her hands. It had returned to her after the battle—no sound, no flight. One moment gone, the next... nestled in her palm like it had never left.
She stared at it.
"You moved it," she said aloud, more to herself than to Kael. "It wasn't me."
Kael looked up, his brow furrowed. "Then what was it?"
Aria hesitated. "Her."
A raven circled above them, its cry breaking the still air.
"She's inside me now," Aria whispered. "Not completely... but enough. When I touched the crystal, I opened a door. And she walked through."
Kael stood and crossed to her, kneeling at her side. "If she's part of you… What does that make you?"
"I don't know," Aria said. "But I don't think I'm just me anymore."
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Kael glanced toward the horizon. "We can't stay here. More will come. The Hollowed aren't the only ones who want what's inside you."
He was right. Aria felt it—like a beacon pulsing from within her, calling out across the land. Not just to the dark… but to everything. Magic was waking. Forces long dormant were beginning to stir.
"We go east," she said. "To the Temple of Virelien. The records there are older than the kingdom itself. If anyone knew what the Raven Queen left behind… it'll be in their vaults."
Kael nodded, already strapping his gear.
They rode for two days through ancient woodlands, following a road overgrown with moss and time. The world felt different now—more alive. Trees leaned slightly toward Aria as she passed. Rivers ran slower, their currents drawn toward her. Even the animals watched her with cautious reverence.
Magic was responding to her, or recognizing her.
On the third night, they made camp beneath a stone arch that once marked the borders of the lost empire of Aertharion. Kael slept soundly, but Aria couldn't. She stood alone under the stars, the dagger beside her, the pull of something greater humming in her chest.
Then came a sound—soft footsteps.
She turned swiftly.
From the darkness emerged a figure cloaked in silver and blue. His face was veiled, but his eyes gleamed like polished steel. He stopped just outside the firelight.
"I come bearing no blade," he said. "Only a message."
Aria tensed. "Who sent you?"
He tilted his head. "A dreamwalker. One who saw your rise long before the world believed it possible. She said to tell you this: 'The stars remember your name. But so does the void.'"
Aria felt her blood chill.
The man slowly removed a scroll from inside his cloak and placed it on the ground. "This will show you what comes next… if you do not choose."
Then he vanished.
Not fled.
Vanished—like mist in sunlight.
Aria bent down, heart pounding, and unrolled the scroll.
On it was a map. A twisting path. Marked with seven symbols… and one final destination drawn in bloodred ink:
The Throne of Echoes.