Chapter 17
Night fell over Sanctum Astrae like an old blanket—warm in places, heavy in others. Astern sat by the window in Dorm D, moonlight washing over his hands. His training with Nysera lingered in his muscles. Not pain—awareness. Each breath was sharper now, each movement more deliberate.
Lunaria entered the room quietly, a faint mist trailing her steps.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.
Astern shook his head. "The silence feels wrong tonight."
Kaela followed close behind, dragging a small box of energy pills she'd snuck from the infirmary. "You say that every other night."
"This time I mean it."
Before either could respond, the academy bells rang. But not the usual tone.
This one was a low hum—ancient, rarely used. It meant only one thing:
Breach.
The three of them locked eyes for a breath before rushing into their boots and robes.
---
The outer fields were already crawling with movement. Third and fourth years lined the walls. Teachers took the sky.
Selkyr hovered above the gate, blade in hand, her silver hair glowing in the duskfire.
Seraphon stood behind her, not moving—but radiating presence like a falling star.
"They're coming," he said quietly. "From beyond the southern barrier."
Astern's group joined their assigned sectors. Students not yet awakened were ordered into the lower halls. Those who had passed the veil trial were permitted to stand.
"Echoers," Selkyr said, voice slicing through wind. "Shadows that speak, fight, and feed on memory. If you hear your name whispered in the dark—don't listen. If you see yourself walking toward you—run."
Kaela swallowed. "That's comforting."
Lunaria drew a sigil in the air. "I've studied them. They're ghoul-forged. Made to fracture the soul before the flesh."
Then the sky cracked.
From the south, streaks of dark flame split the clouds. Dozens—maybe hundreds—of spectral shapes moved like liquid smoke, barely visible. Eyes blinked in and out of existence across their forms.
The Echoers had arrived.
---
The first clash was brutal.
High-ranked students surged ahead, forming wards and phalanxes of energy. Defensive towers activated, launching beams of light and sound.
Astern fought near the eastern gate, moving between two second-years. He saw one Echoer reach into a boy's shadow—and pull out a living copy of him.
The copy screamed.
Astern's blade pulsed with faint white and violet light as he struck. Not through strength—but rhythm. Flow. Emotion bound in silence.
The Echoer fractured like black glass.
Kaela spun beside him, her movements aggressive, her body moving like fire given form.
Lunaria froze an Echoer mid-lunge, then shattered it with a calculated strike of frost. They moved like a single entity now—battle-forged, tempered.
But it wasn't enough.
Echoers kept coming.
---
Then Nysera descended.
She didn't draw a weapon. She became one.
With every step, entire flocks of Echoers fell apart, undone by sheer proximity to her presence. Her veil burned off in a shimmer of wind and silver light.
Her face, now revealed, was carved from poise and pain.
When she passed Astern, she said nothing. But her presence wrapped around him like a shield.
Then Seraphon raised his hand.
A single golden sigil formed above the battlefield. Light poured down—not to destroy, but to seal. To push the Echoers back beyond the veil they came from.
The battle ended as suddenly as it began.
Only ashes and breath remained.
---
That night, Astern sat alone atop the observatory. The stars didn't seem so silent now.
From behind him, Selkyr appeared. No footsteps.
"They were looking for something," she said.
"No," Astern replied. "They were looking for someone."
She nodded. "And they got their answer."
He turned to her. "How many more are coming?"
Selkyr looked to the stars.
"All of them."