Kaela watched from the balcony of the observation deck as the remaining mist from the Sanctum trials curled and dispersed. The crystalline light of the Echo forge still pulsed faintly in the center of the arena, like a heartbeat that hadn't decided whether it belonged to the living or the dead.
Toji stood below, quiet as always, his coat rustling faintly in the mountain wind. Around him, the other Echo-bound students staggered away, drained and wide-eyed. Niko clutched his side, Roth limped slightly, and four other students she didn't recognize whispered between themselves, glancing at Toji with a mixture of awe and distance.
They weren't a team yet. That much was clear.
Kaela pressed her fingers to the glass.
You're always alone in the beginning, she thought. But you don't have to stay that way.
Her mind drifted back to what she had seen during the trial—brief flickers of Toji's tether. It was strange, not quite like any of the others. Not like her bond with Astrynne, her feathered Echo of light and wind. Not like Roth's half-formed twin echoes. Toji's was… shifting. Deep. A shadow not of absence but of memory.
Like the past had taken shape and refused to die.
The forge had twisted his Echo into something else. No, that wasn't right. It hadn't twisted it. It had revealed it. The eye that hovered now behind Toji's shoulder wasn't a weapon—it was a lens. An archive. A judgment.
And it was watching everything.
She had tried to catch his eye afterward, but he hadn't looked up. Just walked toward the edge of the arena and sat alone.
He always did that. Not out of arrogance. Out of distance.
Like something in him didn't quite believe he belonged.
Or maybe… didn't want to.
⸻
Later, in the training hall, Kaela stayed behind after most of Class C had dispersed. Her staff rested across her back, runes dimmed, but her mind was active—sharpened by adrenaline and unease.
Lysara stood at the far end of the hall, arms crossed.
"She watches him, too," Kaela muttered.
Lysara tilted her head.
"Who?"
"The Eye," Kaela said. "It's not just bonded to him. It's learning through him."
Lysara didn't confirm or deny. She simply stepped forward and activated the central glyph.
A soft bell rang. The room dimmed.
"You're the only one who saw that clearly," the teacher said. "What do you think it means?"
Kaela hesitated.
"I think… I think Toji's Echo isn't finished. I think it's still evolving. Which means it's not fully bound."
Lysara nodded once, her expression unreadable.
"And what does that tell you about him?"
Kaela swallowed.
"That he's not like us. Not exactly. Not tethered by the same origin."
Lysara stepped closer.
"And does that frighten you?"
"No," Kaela said, then paused. "It frustrates me."
"Oh?"
"Because he doesn't trust us. Any of us. And I know he thinks it's for our protection—but there's more to power than just wielding it alone."
Lysara allowed a faint smile.
"Well said."
Kaela glanced at the exit, her mind drifting again.
He hadn't even looked back at her during the trial. Not once.
She had watched him battle two separate Echo-bound duelists, countering one with brutal precision and overwhelming the other with a flow of movements that didn't match any formal style they had studied.
He used nothing obvious. No incantations. No gestures. Just… pressure. Movement. Like watching a shadow wrestle fire.
And when he'd won, he'd looked at the judges—not with pride.
But with caution.
⸻
Kaela returned to her dorm late that night. The wind carried the scent of iron and echo-flame from the forge vaults below the academy cliffs.
She leaned against the windowsill, her long braid draped across one shoulder. Her fingers curled, then uncurled.
Astrynne's voice brushed her mind.
"He is one of the turning wheels," the Echo said.
Kaela nodded.
"I know."
"But he does not know what he turns."
"I know that too."
She closed her eyes.
She remembered the night she first saw him in Class F—quiet, arms crossed, eyes cold but curious. Everyone else had dismissed him as another misplaced brute. But she'd seen it right away.
That wasn't a boy looking for glory.
That was someone already marked by war.
Someone looking for… she wasn't sure.
A reason?
A way out?
A promise?
She sighed.
Tomorrow, the next part of the trials would begin. Group combat. The stage would be larger. The audience, louder. Fewer chances to hide. And there would be pressure—not just from teachers or scouts.
But from the students too.
Toji had changed their standing. Class C was being watched now. Not just him.
All of them.
Because of him.
And that meant—
A knock came at her door.
She turned.
It wasn't one of the girls. And it wasn't Lysara.
When she opened it, Toji stood there.
Quiet. Hooded. That same unreadable calm in his face.
Kaela blinked. "You're… here."
He nodded once.
"I need a second opinion," he said. "On something I saw in the Forge."
She stepped aside, heart suddenly pounding.
And just like that—the wheel turned again.
.
.
.
The briefing came the following morning.
Lysara stood before Class C in the sandstone briefing hall, the firelight casting her features in sharp relief. Beside her floated a glyph-plate of rotating topography—layers of twisting caverns, surreal structures, and impossible geometries beneath Valemont's surface.
"To those who endured the Forge," she began, "you've proven yourselves not merely compatible with your Echoes—but changed by them. That was the threshold."
She tapped the glyph once.
The topography shifted. The lower regions unraveled like a spiral staircase descending into fog.
"Now we begin Veins Beyond."
A hush passed through the class. Even Niko and Roth stood straighter.
Lysara's tone shifted—quieter, but heavier.
"The Veins Beyond refer to the layers beneath Valemont's main ley-line chamber—a network of living memory-strata and echo-forged terrain once thought unstable for mortal traversal. That is no longer the case."
Kaela exchanged a look with Toji. His eyes had narrowed. The Mnemo-Eye behind him spun once, as if already processing what lay ahead.
"These are not traditional dungeons," Lysara continued. "These are living memory-forges—pockets of anchored emotion and psychic remnants, twisted by the Echoverse. As such, you will not only face threats drawn from myth or spell. You may face what your Echo remembers. Or worse—what it cannot forget."
She paused.
"To survive, you'll need formation combat. Cohesion. And control. Your Echoes will not behave normally in these zones. Some will evolve. Some will fracture. And some will… lie to you."
She turned toward the exit glyph.
"We begin our descent tomorrow. Prepare accordingly."
As the students filed out, whispers of speculation rippled through the group. Some smiled nervously, others masked fear with bravado.
Toji remained silent. But inside, something stirred. The Mnemo-Eye blinked slowly.
Warped memory. Spatial anomalies. Entities from half-buried truths.
He could already feel it.
This wasn't just a test of strength anymore.
This was a test of self.
And whatever waited in the deep?
It already knew his name.
The moment Lysara dismissed the class, Toji lingered in the briefing hall. The walls around him pulsed faintly—subtle resonance from the Echo-forged architecture. He looked up at the spiraling glyph-projection slowly fading above. It still traced that impossible descent—each layer of the Veins Beyond deeper than the last, mapped not by logic but by memory.
The Mnemo-Eye hovered at his side, rotating slowly like a compass that no longer pointed north.
Toji's hand drifted near the eye without touching it.
"You've been quiet," he muttered under his breath.
The Eye blinked once.
Then: "Because there is nothing I can say that will prepare you."
Toji gave a humorless snort. "Comforting."
Outside the sandstone hall, twilight had settled over Valemont. The towers of the academy caught the orange-pink rays, casting long shadows over the training fields. Students clustered in pockets—some strategizing, some sparring, some clearly pretending they weren't nervous.
Toji watched them for a moment. His eyes narrowed when he spotted Roth alone by the target ring, practicing echo-enhanced strikes with more fury than form. Niko stood nearby with a smaller group, his laughter quieter than usual.
No sign of the other four—the unknown Echo-bound Lysara had mentioned. They kept to themselves.
For now.
He turned and walked toward the western edge of campus where the Echo Chambers were housed. If the Veins Beyond demanded memory, it only made sense to sharpen his awareness of what had already been buried.
⸻
Inside Chamber Nine, he stood barefoot in the center of the polished obsidian floor. The Eye floated higher, pulses of faint violet energy dripping like condensation from its lower lid. Toji inhaled.
"Activate anchor."
The circle lit beneath his feet.
The air warped.
Reality folded.
And then—to his right—a version of himself stepped from the rift. Younger. Still Ethan. His face more open. His eyes uncertain.
"Funny," Toji said, tilting his head. "You looked softer back then."
The projection didn't speak. It only stared. Watching.
Toji reached toward the Mnemo-Eye again. "You can conjure memories, right? From both of us."
"Yes," it said. "But once called… you must face them."
"Good." His voice was steady. "Start with her."
The chamber shook faintly.
From the opposite side of the circle, a door appeared—black, metal-framed, opening with a slow hiss.
Kaela stepped out.
Not the Kaela of now.
A version wrapped in academy blue, eyes fierce but still touched with fear. She walked toward the center of the ring, stopping two paces from Ethan's projection.
She didn't speak either.
Toji stepped forward and stood between them.
He looked at them—at what they used to be.
"What am I supposed to do here?" he asked quietly. "Look at all the things I could've changed?"
The Mnemo-Eye pulsed again.
"No," it said. "You're here to understand why you didn't."
Toji clenched his jaw.
The memory shimmered. The figures dissolved.
He was alone again.
And yet… he wasn't.
Behind his eyes, a rhythm built—deep, seismic, like a heartbeat rising from stone. His tether was responding, but differently. Not with the usual call to action. This was anticipation. Curiosity.
Excitement.
Toji stepped from the ring.
⸻
The next morning came fast.
Dawn barely touched the clouds when the gate to the lower shaft opened—massive bronze doors encrusted with forgotten runes. The entire class had assembled, all nine of them now, outfitted in reinforced travel gear. Echo Seals glittered faintly on their backs and collars, humming like quiet wards.
Lysara stood before them. Her expression unreadable.
"The Veins do not obey linear time or space," she said. "They reflect what you bring with you. And sometimes… they reject it."
Roth cracked his knuckles. "Great. So basically, a maze run by ghosts."
"Not ghosts," Lysara corrected. "Imprints. Some are aware. Some are not. But all of them want something. And most won't ask nicely."
Toji remained quiet.
The four new students stood a little behind Niko and Roth. Each of them wore darker robes than the rest—no house insignias, no echo markings besides faint spirals on their cuffs. Their eyes lingered on Toji more than once, but they said nothing.
He memorized their faces anyway.
Niko nudged him. "You ready?"
Toji glanced sideways.
"For what?"
Niko smirked. "You'll see."
With a low rumble, the lift activated.
The group stepped aboard the massive platform, the glyphs beneath their feet blazing one by one until the air itself shimmered with warding light.
As they descended, Lysara's final words echoed through the shaft:
"Remember—your Echoes will not always protect you. Sometimes, they will test you. Sometimes… they will leave."
And then the chamber swallowed them whole.
⸻
The first level of the Veins Beyond was a cathedral of cracked marble and ink-dark water.
The ceiling loomed so high it vanished into shadow. The floor was fractured into narrow walkways, surrounded by still pools reflecting not the world above, but broken fragments of distant memories.
As the class stepped onto the central causeway, their reflections didn't move in sync.
Some were too slow.
Some turned their heads when they shouldn't have.
And some didn't appear at all.
"Formations," Lysara called. "Watch your spacing. Echoes will not emerge unless called—but they may react to the terrain."
Kaela drifted closer to Toji. Her hand rested on the hilt of her armblade.
"This is the most cursed-looking church I've ever seen."
Toji scanned the edges of the water. One of the reflections was mimicking his exact movement—but holding a different sword.
"No arguments there."
They continued forward.
Then—ripples.
Something moved beneath the water. Not just one thing. Dozens.
Shapes began to emerge, not from the water—but from the light.
They were faceless. Fluid. And they wore the uniforms of Valemont.
One of them looked like Roth.
Another… like Kaela.
The real Roth stepped forward.
"What the hell—are those… us?"
Before anyone could answer, the shapes lunged.
⸻
Toji's blade flashed free before the nearest Echo-figure reached him.
Phantom Edge met light.
But the sound wasn't steel—it was memory unraveling.
His Mnemo-Eye pulsed once—then split into a second orb that hovered behind his left shoulder, tracking all movement within a five-meter radius.
Kareth emerged from his tether in a burst of smoke and light, intercepting a doppelgänger before it could touch Kaela.
The battlefield fractured into chaos.
But even in the heat of combat, Toji noticed something.
The echoes didn't bleed. Didn't scream.
They simply vanished when cut.
Like ideas forgotten.
Or thoughts overwritten.
"Mnemo-types," he said aloud. "They aren't here to kill us."
Kaela parried one, then glanced at him. "Then what are they doing?"
He looked down at the pool again.
One of the ripples wasn't fading.
It was solidifying.
Forming something else.
Something familiar.
His own face.
His voice.
But older.
And when it opened its mouth—
"Give it back," it said, voice hollow.
"Give back what you stole."
Toji didn't move.
The Mnemo-Eye blinked.
And for the first time—it looked afraid.