A scream shattered the morning mist.Rin snapped awake. Elira was already on her feet, staff blazing with silver runes, eyes scanning the deepening shadows. "Stay close," she warned, voice unsteady for the first time.From the eastern treeline, grey shapes slithered into view—twisted creatures with fractured limbs and shards of bone protruding from leathery skin. Their eyes glowed sickly green, and as they moved, the undergrowth seemed to wither in their wake."Phageborn," Elira whispered, pressing her back against Rin's. "They hunt the Threads. If they touch you—"A wraithlike beast lunged. Elira's staff lashed out, tracing a shield of flickering light. The monster rebounded with a guttural shriek, but two more circled, moving with predatory intelligence.Rin's heart pounded. Time warped—the world slowing as the Thread within him pulsed, as if drawn by the monsters' hunger. The forest's bioluminescence dimmed, shrinking from the Phageborn."Don't use your Thread!" Elira hissed, teeth clenched. "Not unless you must."But survival did not offer choices. As a creature reared, claws wide, Rin's panic peaked—and the Thread blazed. Lines of ghostly code flared around his arm, spelling impossible equations. He barely understood, but instinct guided him."Stop," he croaked, willing the concept of stillness itself upon his attacker.Time stuttered. The creature's arm froze mid-swing, motionless as glass. The other Phageborn screeched, confused, senses awash with the taste of power. Elira struck, and for a moment, hope flickered.But using the Thread cut deeper than physical fatigue. Memory slipped from Rin's grasp: his childhood bedroom, the name of his favorite teacher, the station where he'd met his best friend. As he faltered, Elira caught him."You cannot do that again," she warned, voice shaking and fierce. "You will lose yourself—and then lose everything."A final beast lunged. Elira's magic sang, binding the forest's own light into spears that pinned the monster to a tree. Silence fell; the battle was won—for now.Elira pulled Rin aside, examining him with her healer's touch. "You channeled more of your Thread than most Echoed do in their first year. How many memories have you lost?"He shook his head, uncertain, fear gnawing at the emptiness inside. "I—can't remember my first pet. Or the color of my old front door. What's happening to me?""It is the cost," Elira said, gaze turning inward. "The Weaver gives, but also takes. Your power is tied to who you were. Lose too much, and there will be nothing left but your Thread."Rin sat quietly, staring at his trembling hands. All around, the luminous forest recovered—little by little, the scars of battle healing. But inside, Rin felt a fragment stripped away, a warning echoing with every heartbeat."Was there ever another way?" he asked."There is always another way. But the price may be worse than forgetting."A silence passed. Elira finally offered what comfort she could: a song in her own tongue, ancient and laced with sorrow. The trees seemed to lean closer, listening, as if mourning for the lives and memories both given and lost.When the day brightened, and the Phageborn's bodies crumbled into motes, Elira helped Rin up. "We go to Spirefall next," she pronounced. "If you hope to survive, you must know the rules of this world before the next danger finds us."And with that, the two Echoed walked side by side, deeper into a land that hungered for memory, hope, and power in equal measure
