The air outside the Whispering Crevice felt thin and painfully cold against Kaelen's heated skin. They had escaped the quartz chamber, but the silence of the ravine was gone. The low, mournful whistling of the wind had been replaced by the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of heavy boots hitting the scree of the canyon floor.
"Someone's here," Ria hissed, her spear held low. She pressed her back against a jagged outcropping of rock, her eyes scanning the ledge above. "More than one. Professional kit, from the sound of the metal."
Kaelen didn't need his ears to tell him that. The "Echo" in his chest was acting like a radar. He could feel three—no, four—concentrated nodes of mana moving toward them. They weren't raw and chaotic like the Guardian; they were sharp, disciplined, and cold.
"It's a search party," Elara whispered, her hands shaking as she tried to gather enough ambient mana for a simple obscuring mist. "The mana spike you caused when you ate the Lens... it was like a beacon in the dark."
"Not just a search party," a voice rang out from the fog. It was melodic, dripping with a self-assured arrogance that made the hair on Kaelen's neck stand up. "That was a Grade-Three resonance. Too bright for a stray mana-vein. Too clean for a cave-in."
From the swirling grey mists emerged four figures. They wore matching cloaks of deep indigo, trimmed with silver thread that shimmered even in the gloom. At their lead was a woman with hair like spun silk and eyes that looked like polished emeralds. She held a rapier that hummed with a constant, high-pitched vibration.
"The Gilded Lilies," Ria spat, her voice thick with disgust. "The Silver-Tier lapdogs of the Central Guild. What are you doing this far into the Borderlands, Lysa?"
The woman, Lysa, tilted her head, her gaze sliding over Ria and Elara before landing—and staying—on Kaelen. "We were tracking a rogue elemental signature. But looking at your friend there... it seems the signature has a face. And a very interesting arm."
Kaelen stepped forward, his blackened hand twitching. The dragon, Ignis, was no longer purring. He was pacing in the back of Kaelen's mind, a growl building in his throat. "FLIES," the dragon hissed. "ANNOYANCES. SWAT THEM."
"We found a relic. We used it. It's gone," Kaelen said, his voice sounding like grinding gravel. "Move aside."
Lysa laughed, a silvery sound that felt like a needle in the ear. "Gone? An Echo-Lens doesn't just disappear, boy. You've either hidden it, or you're a thief who doesn't know the laws of the Reclamation Act. Hand over the shard, or we'll have to take you in for 'unauthorized channeling'."
"He can't hand it over!" Elara shouted. "He's—"
"Elara, shut up," Ria snapped.
The man behind Lysa, a massive warrior with a shield etched in protective runes, took a heavy step forward. "The Captain asked a question, rat. Give up the loot, or we start breaking bones."
Kaelen felt a surge of heat. It wasn't the desperate, dying hunger of the previous night. This was a surplus. The Echo-Lens was a reservoir of power, and it was currently looking for an exit. He looked at his blackened hand. He didn't know how to cast a fireball. He didn't know the geometry of a flame-bolt.
Don't cast, he reminded himself. Imitate.
He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, reaching into the core of his bond. He didn't think of "fire" as a spell. He thought of the Expansion. He thought of the way a dragon's breath forces the air out of a room, the way heat pushes against everything until the world itself has to move or melt.
"I said," Kaelen repeated, his eyes snapping open to reveal swirling gold embers, "move."
He didn't swing a punch. He simply exhaled a short, sharp breath and shoved his open palm toward the Gilded Lilies.
A wall of shimmering, distorted air erupted from his hand. It wasn't a flame; it was a Concussion. The pure thermal expansion hit the warrior's runic shield like a battering ram. The runes flared, trying to absorb the impact, but the sheer volume of the Echo was too much. The big man was lifted off his feet, thrown backward into his companions.
Lysa danced back, her rapier blurring as she cut through the edge of the heat-wave. Her eyes were no longer mocking; they were wide with a mixture of shock and predatory interest.
"You didn't use a catalyst," she breathed, her voice low. "You are the catalyst."
"Ria, Elara—run!" Kaelen commanded.
They didn't need to be told twice. Ria grabbed Elara's arm, and the two of them bolted toward the narrow goat-path that led up the ravine wall. Kaelen followed, but he didn't run like a frightened miner. He moved with a heavy, deliberate pace, turning every few steps to vent a burst of heat that kept the Lilies from closing the gap.
"Don't let them escape!" Lysa screamed, her face contorting with a sudden, sharp greed. "That boy is worth more than ten lenses! Capture him alive!"
Kaelen reached the ledge, his lungs burning. He could feel the dragon-brand on his chest throbbing. He had pushed the Lilies back, but he could feel the "One-Week" hunger starting to stir again. Every burst of heat was a coin spent from a shrinking purse.
"The path leads to the Smuggler's Pass," Ria shouted over her shoulder, her spear catching the faint light from the surface. "If we reach the treeline of the Whisper Forest, they won't be able to track us by mana alone!"
As they crested the final ridge of the Crevice, Kaelen looked back one last time. Lysa stood at the bottom of the ravine, her indigo cloak fluttering in the wind. She wasn't chasing them anymore. She was watching. She raised a finger, pointing directly at him, then touched it to her own lips in a silent promise.
They had survived the dive. They had fed the beast. But as they disappeared into the shadows of the Borderland forests, Kaelen knew the "One-Week" clock wasn't their only problem anymore.
They were no longer just broke scavengers. They were targets.