Chapter 50: "Whispers Beneath the Ashes"
The storm had passed, but the echoes of battle still lingered in the air. Burnt soil. Cracked stone. Faint trails of smoke rising from what was once the village of Altheris. The shattered remnants of buildings stood like broken bones—silent monuments to a night that would be remembered forever.
Elias stood alone amidst the ruins, the wind brushing strands of silver hair across his forehead. His coat was torn. His arm, bandaged hastily by Mira, throbbed with pain. But what hurt more was the silence—the absence of laughter, of breathing, of heartbeat.
He looked up. The mark on his palm had faded again. Its glow, once so brilliant, now dimmed as if mourning with him. He clenched his fist.
"Why did it have to be this way?" he muttered.
Behind him, footsteps crunched against gravel.
It was Arden, face dark, clothes stained with ash. "We held them off. Barely."
Elias nodded. "But at what cost?"
There was no answer. Only silence.
---
Far from the village, deep within the obsidian caves of the Hollowspire Mountains, a different presence stirred. Hooded figures stood in a half-circle around a glowing orb suspended mid-air. Whispers—ancient and hungry—echoed within the chamber.
"The mark has awakened again," one voice hissed.
"And the name has been given," another added.
The orb flickered, revealing faint images: Elias, Arden, Mira, and Kael. The Four.
"The Keepers of the Echo have begun their path. But they walk blind."
The tallest figure stepped forward. His cloak parted to reveal a skeletal hand.
"Then we must remind them that power... always comes with a price."
---
Back at the camp, Mira and Kael were tending to the wounded. Kael—ever the optimist—cracked a dry joke as he rewrapped a soldier's ankle.
"Hey, you lived. That means you owe me five coins. I bet on you."
The soldier chuckled weakly.
Mira didn't laugh. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tied a bandage around a child's arm. Blood had soaked through. Not the child's. Her mother had shielded her—at the cost of her own life.
Elias returned, his voice low. "We need to move by sunrise. This place isn't safe anymore."
Mira looked up, eyes glassy. "Do we just keep running?"
"No," Elias replied. "We move forward. We find the ruins."
Kael whistled. "The Ruins of Illyria? You really believe the mark is guiding us there?"
Elias nodded. "Not just the mark. The dreams. The voice. Haven't you heard it?"
All three fell silent.
Then Arden said quietly, "I have. It calls my name. Every night."
They exchanged glances. It was no longer coincidence.
---
That night, as the group huddled under makeshift tents, Elias dreamt again. But this time, he wasn't alone.
He stood in a golden hall, flames flickering in suspended braziers without fuel. Stone pillars soared into the clouds. At the center was a throne, empty, but pulsing with presence.
A figure emerged from behind it. Cloaked in starlight, faceless yet familiar.
"Elias... you remember, don't you? The city that once soared above the skies. The promise broken. The oath undone."
Elias reached out, confused. "Who are you?"
The figure didn't answer. Instead, it whispered, "Awaken the Echo. Find the Lost Wing. Before the Sealed One does."
Elias jolted awake. Sweat drenched his brow.
---
By morning, the group was ready to move. But as they prepared to leave, a rumble shook the ground.
"Earthquake?" Kael asked.
Arden drew his blade. "No. Footsteps. Heavy ones."
From the mist emerged a mechanical colossus—part golem, part relic of the old world. Its eyes glowed the same hue as the mark on Elias' hand.
Mira gasped. "It's... reacting to you."
Elias stepped forward, uncertain.
The colossus bent its knee. A panel opened at its core, revealing a staircase.
Inside, ancient machinery buzzed to life. Lights flickered. Symbols from a lost language shimmered across the walls.
Elias turned to his team.
"This is it. The path to Illyria."
And together, the Keepers of the Echo descended into the forgotten depths.
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