Echo found himself standing in a dim library. Endless shelves stretched far into the dark, but they were empty — no books, no scrolls, only dust and silence. The air shimmered faintly with blue light, leaking from glowing cracks along the tiled floor and walls. Everything looked real, but nothing felt grounded.
He blinked a few times.
"Where am I now…?"
Above him, massive stone pillars drifted slowly across the ceiling, grinding softly, as if the library itself were alive. Their movements made the shadows twist.
A sudden crash broke the silence.
A bookshelf had tipped over at the far end of the hall, slamming into the floor, the echo of the sound rippled through the space.
He stepped carefully, eyes darting. He kept low and hid behind one of the thick marble columns. Peeking from the side, he spotted a figure standing in the distance.
That Detective...
".... What is he doing here?"
The man didn't move. His coat swayed slightly, as if there were wind — but Echo felt none. He was staring at something on the far wall. No — not the wall.
A single massive eye pulsed from the darkness. Blood-red veins surrounded the iris, and it was wide open — watching.
"That thing again…"
The same presence from his nightmares — the same suffocating weight, now real.
The man didn't flinch, he stepped closer to the abyss.The detective drew a revolver from his coat, the metal gleaming cold in the dim light. His grip was steady, eyes locked on the monstrous eye that loomed above.
"What's he trying to do?"
Without hesitation, the detective raised the weapon, his finger tightening on the trigger. The gunshot cracked through the silence, the sound like thunder. The bullet shot out with blinding speed — so fast that Echo barely saw it, but the light from the revolver flared brightly in the gloom.
Bang!
The bullet slammed into the eye.
The massive orb recoiled, screeching in agony, its body spasming violently as it pulled back into the thin air from which it had emerged, the shadows distorting like broken glass. Its scream vibrated through the floor, rattling Echo's bones, a sound so inhuman it felt like the room itself was bleeding.
The detective lowered his gun slowly. His eyes shifted, and before Echo could react, the man turned toward him.
"I know you're there,You shouldn't be here."
Without warning, the detective aimed the revolver directly at the pillar behind Echo.He had to come out.
"Wait wait wait wait, let's tal-"
Before Echo could finish, the gunshot rang out again, sharp and deafening. The world went black.
...
Echo's eyes shot open. He gasped for air, heart pounding. He was lying on the cold stone ground, his head aching fiercely. The familiar weight of the well loomed in front of him. He blinked, dazed, trying to process what had just happened.
"What a weird dream..."
But the blood on the ground, the sound of the detective's voice still ringing in his ears, told him otherwise.
Echo groaned, pushing himself upright with trembling arms. His head throbbed, the sharp sting of the fall still echoing through his skull. He staggered to his feet, wiping dirt from his hands as he scanned the area.
Nothing had changed.
The village sat still, quiet. The sky remained the same dull gray, and the breeze carried only silence. He turned to the well — expecting blood, expecting horror — but saw only still, clear water glimmering faintly in the light.
As he leaned forward, a flicker stirred on the edge of his vision. A long, stretching shadow bloomed across the ground like spilled ink. It slithered toward him, curling unnaturally, forming the silhouette of something standing far off — tall, thin, watching.
A voice rose with the wind.
"You're not the first..."
Echo blinked, The figure vanished as it had never been there.
"I'm so... confused..."
But he remembered why he came.
He gripped the rope and began pulling. The bucket rose, glistening with droplets of water. He lifted it with shaking hands and drank — his thirst finally silenced, if only for now.
Echo left the western edge of the city behind. The village paths had grown too quiet, too hollow — like a place abandoned by time itself. As night settled once more over the rooftops, he found himself back in the heart of the city, where lamplight flickered against the cobbled streets and shadows leaned long between buildings.
Echo left the western edge of the city behind. It felt too quiet, and empty.
By the time he reached back to the heart of the Calandria, night had already settle in. The streets had thinned out, lit only by scattered lanterns and the soft glow of storefronts closing for the day.
As he walked, a small toy — wooden and worn — rolled to a stop near his feet. He looked up and spotted a child running off, glancing back only once before disappearing around a corner.
Echo blinked.
"....Did I scare him?"
He picked up the toy and glanced down at it — a small carved soldier, missing one arm.
"Wait, kid! You forgot your toy!"
He hurried after the child, weaving between shadows and flickering lamp posts, until he slipped into a narrow alley, the sounds of the city falling away behind him.
The child stood still at the far end of the alley, small and motionless, back turned.
Echo approached cautiously, holding out the wooden toy.
"You dropped this, so I-"
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
Clang!
Pain exploded in the side of his head. The world spun.
He collapsed to the ground, the toy slipping from his fingers.
Behind him, a shadow loomed — someone had struck him with a metal pipe. Echo's vision blurred. Darkness closed in fast.
The last thing he heard was a faint, mocking laugh echoing off the alley walls.
Echo stirred awake beneath a thick blanket. His head throbbed, wrapped in fresh bandages. His vision stayed blurry for a moment, shapes shifting as he blinked through the haze.
"Jeez, This is my third time with a headache.."
He sat up slowly. The room around him was small but cosy, built entirely of wood. A small torch flickered on the bedside table, casting shadows across the walls. Beside it stood a sturdy chair. A tall wooden closet stood in the corner, its mirror catching the torchlight. The floor looked swept clean — no dust, no clutter.The air carried the smell of freshly cooked eggs.
The door creaked open.
A tween boy stepped in, face unreadable — stoic, like he didn't care whether Echo was awake or not.
"Morning." He spoke in a dull tone.
"Mornin-"
Echo squinted mid-sentence as the boy walked over and yanked the curtains open without a word. Bright sunlight poured into the room as a floodlight, glaring
Straight into Echo's eyes.
"My eyes!"
Shielding them with his arm.
The boy didn't react. He stood still, letting the silence settle, calm as ever.He stepped beside Echo and offered a steady arm.
He guided Echo carefully, his arm supporting him as they moved through the house.
"Dad's making breakfast. Let's go eat."
Echo's head spun with dizziness, his vision blurring in and out of focus. Every step felt unsteady, as though the floor was shifting beneath him. He relied heavily on the boy's steadying presence as they made their way down the hall.The hallway carried a warm, savory smell: eggs, maybe herbs, something pan-fried.
They reached the kitchen table. The boy slipped into his seat without a word.
At the stove, a man with a long, grey beard efficiency cooking as he finished preparing the meal.He turned, balancing a pair of plates in his hand.The sizzling sound of eggs frying filled the room as he set down a steaming plate of eggs, freshly baked bread, and what looked like cured meats with a cup of milk.
The food look simple but, It smelled like home.
"Ah, come take a seat! We've been waiting for you."
the old man grinned as he spoke, voice light.
Echo eased into the empty chair. The sight and smell of the food momentarily dulled the dizziness in his head. Plates of eggs, toast, and roasted vegetables steamed gently between them.
He glanced at the boy, already eating in silence. Then his eyes shifted to the old man, who hadn't touched his own plate — just sat there, grinning at him.
"Don't be shy."
the old man urged.
Echo narrowed his eyes.
"You sure this isn't poisoned?"
The old man laugh.
"Well, the only way to find out... is to take a bite!"
Echo hesitated for a moment, then took a small bite. His eyes widened — It was delicious.
Before he knew it, he was devouring the food as he hadn't eaten in days. Which, to be fair, wasn't far from the truth.
The man let out a booming laugh.
"Easy there, nephew! The food's not going anywhere."
Once Echo slowed down a little, The old man leaned back, set down his fork and gestured with an open palm toward the boy.
"Name's Ronald Morvale, and that quiet one's my son, Serik.Serik Morvale."
Echo wiped his mouth with his hand.
"Echo Amaryllis."
Ronald leaned forward resting his elbows on the table.
"Serik found you lying next to a trash bin. So, we brought you in. Any idea how you ended up there?"
Echo frowned, pressing a hand to his head as he narrowed his eyes.
"I... I can't remember."
"No worries, nephew. Memories like that tend to come back when you least expect. Do you recall anything after you passed out?"
Ronald took a bite of his breakfast.
Echo stared down at his plate, thinking.
"I was... drinking water from the well... and after that... nothing..."
Out of habit, he reached into his pocket.
"My coin!"
His Solin was gone.
Ronald noticed the shift in his expression.
"You alright, nephew? You look a bit zoomed out."
"Oh... it's nothing."
Echo muttered, shaking his head.
Ronald give a smile.
"Alright then. Try to rest your mind. For now, let's just enjoy the meal."
Ronald took another bite, clearly enjoying his food.Serik, quiet as ever, focused on his plate, eating in slow, measured bites.
Echo, now finished, leaned back slightly. His eyes drifted across the room — the wooden beams overhead, the faint crackle of warmth in the air, the soft light spilling through the window.
"This place... feels like home."