They gave him the map at dawn.
It wasn't drawn on paper or bark.
It was carved — a circular disc of deep green stone, etched with grooves and spirals that shimmered faintly when touched. Kael traced it gently as the elders watched, silent but knowing.
At its center: the eight-point sun.
At its edge: a symbol Kael had only seen once before — not in this world, but beyond the Inscripture.
A broken glyph. Not of memory. Not of identity.
A glyph of erasure.
"They're sending us across the sea," Echo said.
She stood by the edge of the village clearing, watching the clouds tumble over the peaks. Her body glowed faintly under the first gold of morning, light catching the spiral tattoos still etched into her fur from their time beyond Veilpoint.
Kael turned the stone in his hand. "Did you know this was coming?"
"I felt it," she said. "Back when you wrote your name in the Inscripture. That wasn't the end. It was the middle."
Kael sat on a stone and exhaled slowly. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Echo looked over her shoulder, eyes soft. "Because I didn't want you to go until you were ready to leave."
The villagers prepared him in silence.
Not with supplies or instruction — but remembering.
One touched his shoulder and he saw an island of black sand, where stars shone beneath the ocean instead of above it.
Another pressed her hand to Echo's fur, and Kael felt a scream that was never made, held back so long it turned into wind.
When the youngest elder placed both hands over his heart, Kael's breath caught.
A vision:
A boat with no sails.
A figure on the deck, head down, face unreadable.
The sea stretching to the ends of memory.
And in the water…
Eyes.
Watching.
Not judging.
Just waiting.
That night, Kael stood at the edge of a cliff behind the village, the carved map clutched in one hand. Below, the ocean churned quietly — not angry, not still. It sounded like someone breathing in their sleep.
Echo joined him, gaze fixed on the water.
"They called it The Hollowing Sea," she said.
He looked at her.
"You've been there?"
She shook her head. "No. But I've heard stories. Fragments."
"From who?"
"From Amaranth," she said. "Or what it used to be, before it forgot itself."
Kael's jaw tightened. "If this sea forgets things… what happens when we cross it?"
Echo's voice was steady.
"You lose the things you aren't willing to carry."
They left at first light.
The village gave them no farewell — not cold, not cruel. Just… understanding. Like they knew Kael would return only when he was someone else. Or maybe not at all.
The elders led them to a sheltered cove behind the cliffs, where a boat waited — not made of wood or metal, but woven glass, shimmering in blues and greens.
It had no sail.
No oars.
Only a narrow prow carved with Kael's name.
He stared.
"I didn't tell them who I was."
"You didn't have to," Echo said.
As Kael stepped onto the boat, the glass hull hummed gently beneath his boots.
Echo leapt aboard beside him, curling at the front with her head raised toward the horizon. The carved map fit perfectly into a circular recess in the floor near the helm.
When he placed it there, the grooves lit with a soft pulse.
And the boat moved.
No push. No current.
Just… will.
The Hollowing Sea unfolded around them.
At first, it looked ordinary.
Waves. Sky. Clouds hanging low like sleeping giants.
But within an hour, Kael began to notice changes.
The sky had no sun, but it was still light.
The stars above shimmered, but never moved.
The water below reflected nothing — not the sky, not the boat, not even them.
Echo stared over the edge.
"This place… it's remembering in reverse."
Kael knelt beside her. "What does that mean?"
"It's not erasing us," she said. "It's rewriting us backward."
He checked his bag. The journal was there.
But Galen's handwriting had changed.
It was now smoother. More hopeful. Less desperate.
One passage now read:
"If I fail, I hope he finds the pieces I left. But maybe he won't have to — maybe he'll never lose me in the first place."
Kael sat down slowly.
"Is this what the mountain people meant by another story?"
Echo nodded. "We're sailing through the one they didn't choose."
By the second day, the changes deepened.
Kael's memories blurred at the edges.
He remembered the Yukari Shrine.
But he hadn't found it alone in this version. He'd had someone else with him.
A girl.
He remembered her smile.
But not her name.
Echo rested against his leg.
"We can turn back," she said. "Now. Before the rewrite finishes."
Kael didn't respond for a long time.
Then: "What happens if we reach the other side?"
"You meet the one who let go of the past completely," Echo said. "And you decide whether to do the same."
On the third night, Kael dreamed.
He stood on a shore of black sand.
A version of himself approached — older, peaceful, eyes empty but not hollow.
This Kael reached out a hand and said, "You don't have to carry it anymore."
And Kael — this Kael — asked one question:
"If I let it go… who am I after?"
He woke just before dawn.
The sea was perfectly flat.
And in the distance: a faint glow.
Not sunlight.
Not fire.
Just a quiet, pulsing presence.
Echo stirred.
Kael stood and whispered:
"We're close."