Chapter 116: The Echo of Shadows
Albert had returned, but not entirely.
By day, he moved through the village as if trying to remember what it meant to live. He stacked firewood for the baker, mended a fence for an elderly widow, and sat at the riverbank watching children splash each other in the shallows. Yet his eyes always seemed a few steps behind—like they were still catching up to the present moment.
Janelle remained close. She didn't say much, but her presence spoke louder than words. When Albert fumbled with tasks or froze mid-sentence, she quietly finished what he started. But even she had her moments of unease.
One night, Janelle woke with a strange feeling and went looking for him. She found him barefoot, standing in the biting cold, eyes locked on the forest as if he could see something no one else could.
"Albert," she whispered.
He didn't turn. He didn't blink. He didn't move.
Only when she gently touched his shoulder did he jolt, blinking as if waking from a dream. "I... I thought I heard someone calling," he muttered. But his voice was distant, hollow.
---
Whispers spread faster than wind through dry grass.
First, a villager's dog vanished. Then another's goats were found mauled, torn apart with no tracks left behind. The forests that once felt safe now held a breathless silence—no birdsong, no rustling leaves.
Then came the sigils.
Carved under bedframes, scratched into tree trunks, drawn in soot beneath water jugs. Shadowy marks, unfamiliar to even the village's oldest residents. Ariella rubbed her fingers across one, and a sharp chill shot up her spine.
"These aren't from the Shadow," she said, glancing at Elara. "They're... something else."
The peace the village had rebuilt was unraveling. Patrols resumed. The girls doubled their rounds, watching every path, every whisper in the wind.
Then came the dream.
Both Elara and Ariella awoke gasping, the same fragments lingering in their minds like smoke from a dying fire.
> "The shadow was never cast alone—it is one of two."
"You saved the host, but not the vessel."
"To cleanse what remains, you must find the cursed mirror."
The Queens had spoken, but left riddles in their wake. Elara sat by the fire, hands clasped tight. "Another shadow?"
Ariella frowned. "Or another part of it... Something we missed."
---
Albert sat alone by the river, a place he once cherished. But now even its gentle flow brought no comfort.
There were gaps in his mind. Not memories exactly, but... echoes. Faint glimpses of places he'd never been, screams he never caused, and a boy's laughter that didn't belong to him.
Sometimes, in reflection, he saw not his own eyes—but something darker. Something watching from behind them.
"I can feel it," he whispered. "It's not gone."
Janelle sat beside him quietly. He finally turned to her and said, " Can you pass the girls a message for me?"
" What message." Janelle asked. By the girls, she knew he meant Ariella and Elara
"If I ever lose myself again—don't wait. End it."
The little girl nodded, unclear whether she understood the message or not.
---
Back in their shared room, Elara pulled out one of the Queens' old scrolls. Ariella had gathered the tools for a purification ritual, but every spell of separation carried a cost—and none guaranteed Albert's survival.
"We can't lose him again," Elara whispered.
"But we also can't risk the village," Ariella replied.
They both stared at the flickering candle between them, the flame wavering with unspoken dread.
---
In another part of the village, the forest stirred.
A kind farmer was returning from his hunt when he heard soft crying. He turned and found a small boy, barefoot and shivering, nestled beneath the roots of a tree. His face was tear-streaked, his voice trembling.
"They left me," the boy said. "Mama and Papa... they went away."
" What's your name?" He asked the boy patiently.
" Johnny. My name is Johnny." the boy answered amidst tears.
The man didn't hesitate. He wrapped the child in his cloak and brought him home.
For the first few days, the boy said little. He only watched.
Watched the fire. Watched the animals. Watched the trees.
Then strange things began to happen.
The birds stopped perching on the trees behind the house. The few that did fell, one by one, lifeless to the ground. The man found them with wide, glassy eyes and no sign of harm.
Later, the farmer caught the boy staring at his prized cow—pregnant and healthy—until the creature began to wail, collapsing in a pool of blood. The unborn calf had died within her.
"Strange coincidence," the man mumbled, shaken.
But the incidents piled up.
Crops blackened where the boy walked. Fruit withered on branches. A hen shrieked and dropped dead mid-step.
And still, the boy only watched—eyes far too old for a child his age.
One morning, the farmer found him sitting silently in the field, eyes fixed on the sky. A murder of crows above suddenly collapsed mid-flight, littering the soil with lifeless bodies.
The man took a step back. Then another.
"What... what did I bring into my home?"
The boy turned slowly and stared at the farmer with an innocent and confused look that got the man wondering whether he saw things wrongly.
"Papa," the boy said softly, calling him as he always had since the day he'd been found. "Papa, did I do anything wrong?"
His childlike voice was dripping with innocence.
The man was perplexed. For a moment, he didn't know what to say. Staring at the boy, all he could see was an innocent little child—but there wasn't a suitable explanation for the strange things happening in his home ever since he found this boy.
"No, little Johnny," the man finally said, managing a smile. "You didn't do anything. I'm just surprised to see you here when I've been looking all over for you. Come, let's go eat."
He changed his face, trying to appear as calm as possible. But unlike before, he didn't wait to hold the boy's hand. He simply turned and began walking ahead, glancing back only once.
Apparently, he was afraid of little Johnny.