The trail north wasn't marked on any League route.
Kael followed the ridgelines, the folds of Sera's map as much a compass as the sky above. Echo moved quietly beside him, the grass bending lightly under her paws but never breaking.
Each landmark they passed — the leaning stone, the silent pond, the arch of bleached wood — matched the drawings. Crude. Imperfect.
But true.
Nathaniel had offered to follow. Kael had declined.
"This isn't a hunt," he'd said. "It's an answer."
Now the wind grew colder, the sun dimmer. Trees thinned into firs, their branches weighed with pale blossoms that never opened.
And in the distance, the mountains rose — blue against blue, impossibly tall, as though they pressed against the sky itself.
They camped that night just past a ridge called Mirror Hollow, a bowl-shaped clearing where sound refused to echo, and reflections lingered a moment longer than they should.
Kael leaned against a fallen trunk, the firelight flickering over the old map. His eyes traced the path again: past the Hollow, through the Scattered Pines, into the Vale of Windless Sleep… and finally, the mountain settlement circled eight times with a sun glyph.
Echo stirred beside the fire.
"You feel it too?" she asked.
He nodded.
"It's not pulling," Kael said. "It's recognizing."
Echo tilted her head. "Like we've already been here."
He didn't smile.
But he didn't fear it either.
By noon the next day, they reached the outer valley.
Clouds rolled overhead, moving against the wind. A flock of Pidgeotto flew backward in a slow, unnatural arc before righting themselves and veering off without a cry.
Kael adjusted the strap on his pack. "This place doesn't follow rules."
"It follows memory," Echo said. "Just not yours."
The valley narrowed into a trail of slate and silver dust. No signs. No gates.
But the moment they crossed a carved stone marker shaped like a broken ring—
They were seen.
There was no crowd.
No greeters.
Just stillness.
And then a figure emerged from the trees.
A woman — tall, robed in layered blue and gray, her hair bound in eight spirals. She walked barefoot, her expression neutral, and she did not speak.
She stopped ten paces from Kael.
And bowed.
He blinked.
"…Hi."
The woman raised her hand — not in greeting, but in invitation.
Then she turned, and walked deeper into the mountain path.
Kael and Echo followed.
The settlement wasn't built.
It was grown.
Homes carved from stone but shaped like bone. Tunnels that twisted downward, following patterns Kael recognized but couldn't place — spiral paths, memory-lattices, Unown glyphs woven into walls.
People watched him pass.
Some from doorways.
Some from shadows.
None spoke.
None looked afraid.
And many wore necklaces or cuffs marked with the eight-pointed sun.
The woman led him to a structure at the heart of the village — not larger, but older. Vines threaded through its open ceiling. Inside, six figures sat in a circle on pale stone, eyes closed, hands pressed together.
As Kael entered, they opened their eyes.
None of them looked surprised.
One man — the oldest — stood.
He approached Kael slowly.
And then reached into his cloak.
From it, he withdrew a single object.
A ribbon.
Pale silver. Threaded with gold.
Marked with the ❂ glyph Kael had carried since Sprout Tower.
Kael's breath caught.
"…Where did you get that?"
The man didn't speak.
Instead, he stepped forward.
And handed it to him.
The moment Kael's fingers closed around the ribbon—
A voice filled the air. Not aloud.
In his head.
Gentle. Familiar.
Not Galen.
Not Echo.
Someone new.
"I know your name."
Kael stepped back instinctively.
But the ribbon was warm.
Not just from the man's hand — from something alive.
He turned to Echo. "You heard it too?"
She nodded slowly. "Not as sound. As recognition."
The old man gestured to the floor.
A space had been cleared in the circle.
Kael understood.
He sat.
So did Echo.
The other villagers closed their eyes again.
But not in meditation.
In connection.
And then, Kael felt it:
Another presence.
Not in the room.
Somewhere beyond the mountain.
Another like him.
Not just someone who had survived Amaranth.
Someone who had spoken to it.
And walked away.
Kael clutched the ribbon tightly.
And the presence spoke again.
"You found the Inscripture."
"You remembered. You chose."
"Now let me show you what I chose instead."
Kael's breath caught.
Echo touched her paw to his hand.
And the circle of villagers glowed with quiet, coordinated light.
A map unfolded in Kael's mind — not of places.
Of decisions.
And somewhere deep in that web…
A memory that wasn't his.
A hand reaching out.
A voice whispering:
"Please — don't let me be the only one."
Kael opened his eyes.
The room was still.
The villagers said nothing.
But their eyes were kind.
Echo's voice was quiet in his thoughts.
"You're not the last story."
Kael looked at the ribbon again.
Eight-point sun.
The same mark from the letter.
He looked up at the villagers.
Then to the sky beyond the vine-woven roof.
And he said softly:
"Then show me where to go next."