The knock came a third time.
Not louder.
Not harder.
Just certain.
Walliam stood in the center of Old Mara's house, the wooden floor cool beneath his bare feet, the air so tight it felt like breathing through cloth. The crystal under his shirt pulsed in slow, heavy beats — not panicked like before, but aware.
Listening.
Mara did not go to the door.
She moved instead to the hearth, reaching above it to the beam where a long, wrapped shape rested. She pulled it down, cloth falling away to reveal a narrow blade etched with faint sigils.
Walliam had never seen her carry a weapon.
"I thought you said we don't fight things like that," he whispered.
"We don't," she said. "We survive them."
The voice outside came again, smooth as still water."You're making this harder than it needs to be."
Lysa stood by the back wall, pale but steady. "What are they?"
Mara didn't answer immediately.
"Collectors," she said at last. "Servants of those who seek the shards."
Walliam's hand drifted to his chest. The crystal warmed at his touch.
The door latch turned.
Not broken.
Not forced.
Just… opened.
The wood swung inward with a slow creak.
Three figures stood beyond the threshold.
They wore dark coats that moved like smoke underwater. Their faces were visible, but wrong — too calm, too smooth, eyes reflecting faint inner light.
Human.
Once.
The one in front smiled. "There he is."
Mara stepped between them and Walliam. "You don't cross this threshold."
The man tilted his head. "Your protections are old. We are not what you remember."
The air shifted.
Walliam felt it — a pressure like deep water.
The crystal reacted instantly.
Light flared beneath his skin.
The men's eyes sharpened.
"Yes," the leader whispered. "That one."
Mara moved first.
Her blade traced a sigil in the air — lines of gold light snapping into place. The symbol slammed forward, striking the lead Collector in the chest.
He staggered back a step.
Then smiled wider.
His hand flicked.
The sigil shattered.
Walliam felt something cold slide through the room — not wind, not shadow, but absence.
Lysa gasped as frost crept across the walls.
The Collectors stepped inside.
Mara swung her blade, light trailing behind it. The strike passed through one of them —
—and the figure split into drifting smoke, reforming behind her.
Walliam's pulse roared.
Not fear.
A call to act.
One Collector lunged for Lysa.
Walliam didn't think.
He moved.
Light surged from his palm again, forming a sharper arc this time — a blade of pale crystal energy.
He swung.
The Collector froze as the edge passed through him. For a second he stood whole.
Then fractures spread across his form like cracks in glass.
He shattered into a storm of black fragments that dissolved midair.
The room went silent.
The remaining two stared at Walliam.
Hungry.
"Adaptive resonance," one murmured.
"Faster than predicted," said the other.
They moved together.
Mara shouted something, but Walliam couldn't hear. Sound had dulled again. The world narrowed to motion and light.
One Collector blurred to his left.
The other rose upward — defying gravity, coat trailing like liquid night.
Walliam turned with the first, crystal-blade meeting empty air—
Pain exploded across his back.
He hit the floor hard, breath gone.
Cold fingers wrapped around his throat, lifting him.
The Collector's face was inches from his.
"So much Heart in such a fragile vessel," it said softly.
Walliam clawed at the hand.
The crystal burned.
Not outward.
Inward.
Light burst through his veins, racing toward his chest.
His vision went white—
—and something answered.
Not from him.
Through him.
The air cracked like thunder inside the room.
A shockwave erupted outward.
Both Collectors were thrown back, smashing through walls in a rain of splinters.
Walliam collapsed, gasping.
The house groaned.
Mara grabbed him. "Get up!"
Outside, the night had changed.
The sky above the village rippled like disturbed water. Thin lines of light spread from a central point directly overhead — branching, multiplying.
A fracture.
But not like before.
This one wasn't closing.
Wind roared downward from the sky itself.
Villagers screamed as loose objects lifted from the ground, pulled upward.
"No," Mara breathed. "Too soon."
The crystal under Walliam's shirt pulsed wildly now — matching the spreading lights above.
"It's reacting to you," Lysa said, terror in her voice.
"No," Mara corrected. "It's responding to what woke when he bonded."
A shape moved within the widening crack overhead.
Vast.
Distant.
Watching.
More Collectors stepped from the shadows between houses — drawn, silent, converging.
"They opened the way," Mara said. "They signaled."
"For what?" Walliam asked.
She looked at him with grief in her eyes.
"For the world beyond ours to notice."
The ground trembled.
From the forest edge came that same glass-breaking sound as the sky tear widened.
A beam of pale light speared down, striking the crater where the shard had fallen.
The earth lifted.
Not breaking.
Rising.
Stone tore free, ascending toward the fracture like metal to a magnet.
Walliam felt the pull in his bones.
In his blood.
The crystal flared brighter than ever before.
The Collectors stopped advancing.
They knelt.
Not to him.
To the sky.
The vast shape beyond the fracture shifted.
An outline like a crown of broken stars.
A presence that made the air feel small.
Walliam's pulse slowed.
Deepened.
Matched it.
"No," Mara whispered. "Don't listen."
But it wasn't a voice.
It was gravity.
Calling its pieces home.
Walliam took one step forward.
Light crawled over his skin in branching lines.
The fracture above widened—
—and the world, for the first time in centuries, answered the call of the Heart.