Kael folded Galen's letter one last time and slipped it into the back of his new journal. The ink had begun to fade, but the words still held weight. They always would.
He stood near the edge of Vermilion's southern cliffs, where the coastline curved east and the trees thinned to scrub. The League's map didn't extend this far — not in detail. No routes. No numbered paths. Just a blank expanse labeled Uncharted Territory.
But he knew what lay beyond.
Veilpoint.
Echo sat at his feet, her ears flicking in the breeze. Her fur shimmered faintly beneath the morning light — not silver now, but threaded with blue and pale gold.
"You sure this is the way?" he asked.
"I remember it now," Echo replied. "Not from you. Not from Galen. From before."
He blinked. "Before what?"
"Before we were separated."
He didn't ask what she meant. Not yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
The land changed as they walked.
Not suddenly. But with subtle wrongness.
Grass grew in spirals instead of tufts. Rocks hummed when touched. Birds flew overhead in patterns that didn't match any known migration. And the trees—when they appeared—had no rings inside their trunks.
Time was thinner here.
Kael kept his eyes forward. The pendant from the Resonant Circle shifted lightly against his chest, a reminder of the people who had tried to pass through this place—and hadn't come back.
"We're being watched," Echo said.
"By what?"
"By what remembers us."
They came upon the first glyph by accident.
Carved into a stone slab jutting from the soil, half-buried in moss, was the crescent eye. But beneath it was something new.
A name.
His name.
KAEL
He froze.
"That's not possible."
"It is," Echo said. "Because you've already been here."
He turned to her sharply. "I would remember."
"You will."
He stepped back from the glyph.
Nothing changed.
But everything felt different.
By dusk, they reached a hill crowned with five tall stones arranged in a circle. Each bore a different glyph: eye, flame, spiral, sun, and something he didn't recognize — an incomplete shape, like a circle opened at one edge.
Echo stepped into the circle and sat.
"This is where we cross."
He hesitated. "Cross what?"
"The border between what you remember… and what you never dared to think about."
He glanced at the symbols.
"Is this where Galen went?"
Echo nodded. "He opened it. But he didn't cross alone."
Kael stiffened. "Who was with him?"
She looked up at him with glowing eyes.
"Me."
The wind stilled.
The air thickened — not like mist, but like breath. The five glyphs on the stones pulsed once, and the circle began to glow with silver light.
Kael stepped beside her.
"Will it hurt?"
"Yes," Echo said. "But only because truth always does."
He reached down and placed one hand on her head.
"Then let's go."
The circle ignited.
Light rushed up from the stones, forming a ring in the air. A hum filled the space — not loud, but constant, like a name whispered through time. His name. Echo's. Galen's.
All at once.
He stepped through.
And the world changed.
Not violently.
Not with a crash.
But with recognition.
He stood in a place made of sky and water, but there was no sun. No ground. Only memory. Dreams. And echoes.
Images floated around him — suspended like crystal:
Galen kneeling beside Echo's egg, whispering.
Tama, dancing at the Festival of Passing, before her voice faded.
The monolith, glowing with unfamiliar glyphs.
A version of himself, standing still, holding nothing, facing no one.
Then came the voice.
"You remember well."
Kael turned.
There was no speaker.
Only light.
"Now let's see if you can remember forward."
The vision cracked.
The sky folded.
And he fell into something new.