With the morning fog sweeping over Auraleaf, Lila, Eron, Elin, and three dedicated villagers ventured into the Forest of Echoes, the oldest part of a lost valley where even sprites forbade flight. Rumor had it that the Book of Eternity hid in its folds, sealed away by the Ancients.
Lanterns were wrapped around their waists, Heartstone coals glowing softly to drive away the dark shadows that clung to the moss-draped trees. The smell of wet earth and old secrets hung in the air, each step being swallowed by thick curtains of leaves.
"Stay close," Eron whispered, his hand wrapping around his staff.
The instant they entered the woods, whispers began at once—soft voices on the wind, calling up moments Lila had never lived to remember
"Would-be failure."
"You left us."
"Your destiny is darkness."
She pressed the pendant against her breast, whispering back:
"Light is born within."
The Path of Riddles
The further they went down, the darker it was, sunlight struggling to filter through the thick cover. The thin path was lined by weathered stone markers, etched with runes that flashed weak light as Lila passed.
They came to a circular clearing with a gigantic stone arch, similar to the Seal but older, cracked with vines and moss.
Framing the arch was a riddle etched out:
"Beyond the breath of time, where dawn forgets to rise,
Light meets shadow, truth meets lies.
Speak the word of dawn, and the path shall open."
Lila gazed at Eron, who nodded. "It's testing you, light-bearer."
She closed her eyes, taking in the heavy, wet air, feeling the pendant warm in her palm.
Light was born within.
She opened her eyes, her voice unbroken:
"Hope."
The runes on the archfire, the scorching away of the moss as the stones shifted, revealing a hidden stairway descending into the earth, lit by pale blue light.
They descended in silence.
The Hall of Mirrors
At the far end, they entered an enormous underground chamber whose walls were crystal, reflecting their faces—only the reflections shifted on their own, showing each of them different pictures.
Lila saw herself as a child of four, trembling in fear, running through black woods.
She saw herself as a teenager, crying beside a hospital bed.
She saw herself with eyes the shade of cold stars, blackness clenched about her fists.
"Don't look too long," Eron warned, "or the reflections will trap you."
They walked on, the pendant's light steady, to the center of the hall where a pedestal stood, a black book bound in iron clamps resting upon it.
The Book of Eternity.
As Lila raised her hand toward it, the visions in the mirrors shrieked, shadows shredding the glass, begging, cursing, demanding freedom.
She stopped.
"Elin, the lantern," Eron ordered.
Elin raised the lantern, burning coals of Heartstone lighting it up with warm glow, sending warm shadows away from the mirrors. The shadows retreated, hissing, their screams turning into whispers.
Lila took a breath and encircled her fingers with the book.
It weighed heavily, as if holding the weight of storms, the surface thudding gently like it had a heartbeat.
The moment her fingers wrapped around it, the pendant exploded into light, and a vision flashed before her eyes:
She saw Auraleaf burn, lanterns exploding above, shadows rising up from the earth like a tide.
And in the midst of it, a figure in black, face hidden, holding the Book, the pendant shattered at their feet.
The Escape
The mirrors began to shatter, shadows creeping out of them like a mist, moving towards the group.
"Run!" cried Eron.
They fled back through the Hall of Mirrors, shadows nipping at their heels, crystal walls collapsing behind them. The staircase shook beneath their feet as they climbed, the forest above growling like some ferocious beast.
They came out into the auroral glow of Auraleaf, the entrance to the Forest of Echoes slamming shut behind them with a final, sonorous boom.
The Book of Eternity was warm in Lila's hands, heavy, throbbing.
Elin rubbed against her shoulder, her tone soft but persistent: "What did you see?"
Lila looked at the pendant, then at the book, indecision and determination churning in her chest.
"A warning," she panted. "We're not done yet."