Chapter 47

The dawn painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson, its light spilling over the jagged ruins of the spire, now a grave of stone and dust. Aria sat on the cold earth, Rollan cradled in her lap, his small chest rising and falling with the rhythm of exhausted sleep. Her hands trembled as she brushed a lock of dark hair from his face, the adrenaline of their escape still thrumming in her veins. He’s safe. For now.

Caden crouched beside her, his broad shoulders hunched, sword resting across his knees. His steady gaze scanned the horizon, ever the sentinel. “You holding up?” he asked, his voice low, rough with fatigue but warm with concern.

Aria managed a faint nod, her throat tight. “Barely. That was too close.”

Torren paced nearby, his boots kicking up small clouds of dust, daggers still gripped tightly as if the fight might resume at any moment. “Too close?” he snapped, his sharp features taut with irritation. “That bastard’s still out there. We buried his precious cradle, but he’ll dig it up—or find another way.”

Elara knelt by the wreckage, her hands hovering over a fragment of rune-carved stone, the orb dim in her grasp. “The Worldheart’s power is tied to us now,” she said, her tone measured but edged with unease. “The vow we made—it’s a shield, but it’s also a chain. He can’t take it without us.”

“Or without Rollan,” Aria added, her voice barely a whisper. The cult master’s chilling words echoed in her mind: *The child’s blood can still undo the seal.* She tightened her hold on her son, resolve hardening within her. I won’t let him near you.

Caden’s hand found her shoulder, a silent anchor. “He’d have to go through all of us. And we’re not easy to break.”

A faint smile tugged at Aria’s lips, gratitude softening her fear. She looked to her companions—battle-worn but unyielding—and felt the strength of their bond, forged in fire and sacrifice. We’re a family now, whether we meant to be or not.

The moment shattered as a low rumble rolled through the ground, a tremor so subtle it might have been imagination. Torren froze mid-step, his head tilting. “You feel that?”

Elara stood, her eyes narrowing as she clutched the orb. “It’s not over. Something’s stirring.”

Before anyone could respond, a gust of wind whipped across the ruins, carrying an eerie, keening wail. The air thickened, charged with a presence that prickled their skin. From the debris rose wisps of shadow—not the Hollow One they’d banished, but something older, more fragmented. The shapes coalesced into faint, humanoid forms, their edges flickering like dying flames.

Caden leapt to his feet, sword raised. “What now?”

Elara’s breath hitched, recognition dawning. “Echoes. Guardians of the Worldheart, bound to its cradle. They’re waking because the seal’s complete—but they’re weak, broken.”

The figures drifted closer, their hollow eyes fixed on the group. A voice—or many voices layered as one—rasped through the air, dry and ancient. “Bearers… the heart’s keepers… you have claimed its burden…”

Aria’s pulse quickened. “What do you want from us?”

The echoes wavered, their forms trembling. “The seal holds… but the shadow hunts… the child’s light draws it near…” Their words fractured, fading into static, then sharpened again. “Seek the first cradle… beyond the veiled peaks…”

Torren scowled, stepping forward. “Cryptic nonsense. Speak plain, or—”

The echoes dissolved with a final, mournful cry, their shadows sinking back into the earth. Silence fell, heavy and oppressive.

“Veiled peaks?” Caden muttered, sheathing his blade with a frown. “That’s a day’s trek north, maybe two. Rough country.”

Elara turned the orb in her hands, its faint glow pulsing erratically. “The first cradle… it must be where the Worldheart was originally bound. If the echoes are right, answers are there—about the seal, the cult, Rollan’s role.”

Aria’s stomach twisted. “And the shadow hunting him.” She looked down at Rollan, still asleep, his tiny hand curled around her finger. *What are you, my love? Why you?*

Torren crossed his arms, his voice gruff. “So we march into more danger, chasing ghosts. Great plan.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Caden said firmly. “If the cult master’s after Rollan, we need every edge. Sitting here waiting for him to strike again isn’t an option.”

Aria rose, cradling Rollan, her jaw set. “Then we go. For him.”

The group gathered their meager supplies—scraps of food, a waterskin, weapons—and set off toward the north, the veiled peaks a distant smudge against the sky. The terrain grew rugged, the path winding through gnarled trees and rocky outcrops. Hours passed, the sun climbing high, then dipping toward dusk. Rollan stirred awake, his wide eyes taking in the world with innocent curiosity, oblivious to the stakes.

As night fell, they made camp in a shallow cave, the wind howling outside. Caden kept watch, while Torren sharpened his blades with restless energy. Elara pored over the orb, muttering to herself, seeking clues in its light. Aria sat with Rollan, humming softly, her mind racing.

A sudden crack split the air—a branch snapping beyond the cave. Caden tensed, hand on his sword. “Company.”

Torren was up in an instant, daggers gleaming. Elara dimmed the orb, plunging them into shadow. Aria pressed Rollan close, her heart pounding.

Footsteps crunched closer, deliberate and unhurried. A figure emerged from the darkness—not the cult master, but a woman cloaked in silver, her hair streaked with gray, her eyes sharp and knowing. She carried a staff topped with a crystal that pulsed faintly, mirroring the orb’s rhythm.

“Who are you?” Caden demanded, blade half-drawn.

The woman’s lips curved in a faint, enigmatic smile. “A friend, perhaps. Or a guide. I’ve watched the Worldheart’s bearers for longer than you can fathom.”

Elara stepped forward, cautious. “You know about the seal?”

“I know it’s cracking,” the woman said, her voice calm but piercing. “The vow you made was strong—but incomplete. The shadow grows bolder.”

Aria’s blood ran cold. “Cracking? We just sealed it!”

The woman’s gaze settled on Rollan, softening briefly. “The child’s mark is the key—and the flaw. His light strengthens the seal… and tempts its unraveling.”

Before they could press her further, a guttural roar echoed from the peaks, shaking the cave. The woman’s expression hardened. “It’s here.”

From the darkness surged a mass of shadow and teeth, larger than the Hollow One, its eyes blazing with hunger. Caden roared a battle cry, charging to meet it. Torren flanked, daggers flashing. Elara hurled a bolt of light, illuminating its grotesque form.

Aria clutched Rollan, backing against the wall, the woman’s staff flaring beside her. “Hold him tight,” she warned. “This is no echo—it’s the shadow’s vanguard.”

The fight erupted, chaos swallowing the cave, and Aria’s world narrowed to her son’s trembling frame. Not again.