Chapter 108: Echoes of the Broken
The forest still smoldered behind them.
Smoke curled into the gray sky as Elara and Ariella staggered to the edge of the charred treeline. The scent of ash clung to their skin, and their lungs ached with each breath. Ariella leaned heavily against Elara, her wound a vivid slash of crimson across her tunic.
"We need to stop," Elara whispered, half to herself. "You're losing too much blood."
Ariella shook her head weakly. "We can't. Not yet. If she gives him the pendant—"
"She already has," Elara said, her voice tight. "We're too late."
They collapsed beneath a cluster of unburned trees, shielded by low-hanging branches and thick foliage. Elara tore a strip from her sleeve and pressed it against Ariella's wound, her hands trembling. Ariella winced but said nothing.
"I should've seen it coming," Elara muttered. "I should've stopped her."
"She was already cracking," Ariella murmured, her voice fading. "You saw it, didn't you? When she said his name…"
"Laxman." Elara's eyes darkened. "Whoever he was, she couldn't let him go."
A sharp wind suddenly rushed through the clearing—cold and unnatural. The branches stilled, the air turned dense. Elara tensed, rising quickly and placing herself between Ariella and the approaching mist.
Out of the fog stepped a lone figure, cloaked in tattered robes. His hood shadowed most of his face, but he did not carry the menace of the Shadow or Seraphina. His steps were calm. His presence felt... deliberate.
"Stay back!" Elara warned, dagger drawn.
"I mean no harm," the figure said, his voice roughened by age, but steady. "If I wanted you dead, you would not have seen me coming."
"Who are you?" Elara demanded.
"A name holds power," he said, pausing a few steps away. "So I will give it carefully. I am Osric. Not a friend to the Shadow, and not one to his puppets."
Elara narrowed her eyes. "Then why are you here?"
Osric pulled back his hood, revealing an aged face lined with creases of both wisdom and sorrow. His golden eyes flicked briefly to Ariella before settling on Elara.
"Because I've watched long enough. The fire. The deaths. The shifting winds of magic. I know what's coming—and I refuse to let it come without resistance."
"You've been watching?" Elara echoed bitterly. "And yet you did nothing while people died?"
"I waited until I could act without alerting him," Osric replied calmly. "The Shadow's gaze is vast. I am one of the few he hasn't yet noticed."
Ariella stirred, opening her eyes with effort. "If you know so much, then you know what Seraphina's done."
"Yes," Osric said grimly. "She carries the final key—the pendant. If it reaches the Hollow of Echoes and is placed at the altar, the seal will break. And the being behind the Shadow… will take form."
"What being?" Elara asked. "The Shadow is already evil enough."
Osric shook his head. "He's merely a vessel. A man once consumed by ambition, now controlled by something older, darker. It speaks through him, feeds off destruction, and waits. The seal that binds it was fractured over centuries. Seraphina's gift would shatter the last piece."
Elara's voice grew sharp. "Why now? Why help us?"
Osric paused. His eyes dimmed with memory. "Because… he and I were once the same."
Ariella blinked slowly. "What?"
"We were brothers—not by blood, but by oath," Osric said softly. "Apprentices under the same master. We trained not to conquer, but to heal. We believed we could save the world from its hunger for war and ruin. But he… he grew impatient."
He knelt down beside a rock, fingers curling over moss. "He wanted faster results. Power that could make people obey. I begged him to wait, to follow the path our master taught us. But he made a different choice."
"He betrayed you," Elara said quietly.
"Yes," Osric nodded. "And not just me. He deceived our master, stole sacred scrolls, and made a pact with the darkness that lives beyond the known realms. He said it was the only way to protect the village, to control its people and ensure obedience."
"But instead…" Ariella rasped.
"Instead, he lost himself," Osric finished. "The darkness didn't grant him strength—it consumed him. His body decayed under the strain of forbidden magic. Piece by piece, his human form unraveled. Until nothing was left but the smoke you now see—the soul twisted, bound, and kept alive by a cursed force."
Elara's hand tightened around her blade. "So that's what he is now. Not a man, just… smoke and hatred."
"Exactly," Osric said. "He can still possess bodies temporarily, but his true form is that black mist—half spirit, half curse."
Ariella's voice trembled. "And if he gets the pendant… he becomes whole?"
"He becomes a door," Osric corrected, "for what waits beyond him."
Elara took a steady breath. "Then we stop him."
Osric reached into his robes and pulled out a small orb. It pulsed faintly with a soft white glow. "This is a relic. A tether of clarity. If there is any part of Albert left inside the Shadow's shell, this might reach it. But it must be used at the altar—before the seal is broken."
"And if there's nothing left of him?" Ariella asked softly.
"Then the pendant must be destroyed," Osric said without hesitation. "Even if it means losing the last trace of who he was."
Elara took the orb carefully. "Where's the ritual happening?"
"The Hollow of Echoes," Osric replied. "An ancient place forgotten by most. Twisted now. Guarded. But not impenetrable."
He stepped back, fading slightly into the fog. "I will clear what path I can… but the final battle is yours."
Just as he vanished, the sky above shifted, darkened. A sharp whisper of wind carried the scent of roses and ash.
---
Somewhere far from the girls, beneath the gnarled trees of the Hollow of Echoes…
Seraphina moved like a ghost. Her cloak dragged behind her, its hem damp with dew and dirt. Her eyes were hollow now—too much had been taken from her to remain whole.
At the heart of the stone circle, the Shadow hovered—no longer in human shape. A swirling column of dense smoke writhed around a jagged altar. Whispered words echoed from it, unintelligible and ancient.
Seraphina stepped forward.
In her trembling hands, she held the pendant.
It glowed once—blue and gentle—before its light dimmed as if in surrender.
"I brought it," she whispered. "Like I promised."
The smoke surged toward her but did not strike. It caressed her fingers, curling around the pendant.
A low, guttural voice spoke from within. "You have done well, Seraphina."
Tears welled in her eyes as she let the pendant slip from her grasp into the mist. The moment it touched the altar, the ground shuddered.
Cracks formed across the stone. The trees groaned. A wind unlike any before swept across the Hollow.
The seal had begun to break.
And with it, something far worse was stirring.