The wind shifted.
It wasn't the usual mountain breeze or forest gust. It carried voices—not loud, but layered, like a crowd whispering across time.
Kaien paused mid-step as he carried a bundle of firewood toward the forge.
He looked up toward the forest edge, where dusk pooled between the trees like ink.
Lyra emerged from their tower behind him. "You felt it too?"
He nodded, dropping the wood and brushing off his hands. "It's not a natural wind."
"Something crossed into this world," she murmured.
They exchanged a look.
It had been three months since they'd left the Nexus. Their home had grown. More wanderers had arrived—those displaced by collapsing timelines and rewritten histories. Kaien and Lyra had welcomed them all.
But this wind felt different.
It didn't carry lost souls.
It carried something looking for them.
---
That night, the stars flickered.
A storm began to rise, but there were no clouds—just light dancing unnaturally in the sky.
Kaien stood watch on the tower roof. Lyra joined him after speaking with the villagers.
"We need to put up the wardstones," she said. "Just in case."
Kaien nodded. "Already started."
They had created these stones using fragments from the Nexus—etched with memory and purpose. Placed correctly, they could block most rifts and echoes from bleeding into this world.
But this disturbance felt too strong.
As they prepared, a traveler ran up the path, breathless.
It was Ras, a former dreamwalker from a broken moon world. His eyes were wide.
"I saw it," he gasped. "At the river. A shadow. No face. No voice. But it… it remembered me."
Lyra stiffened.
Kaien put a hand on Ras's shoulder. "Where is it now?"
Ras looked back toward the forest. "I don't know. It vanished when I ran. But it whispered one thing before it disappeared."
Kaien's voice was steady. "What did it say?"
Ras's eyes glistened.
"The sister must return."
---
That night, they didn't sleep.
Kaien and Lyra sat in the old study beneath the tower, the room lit only by the flickering blue core of a memory lamp.
"If something's trying to pull you back into the Nexus," Kaien said slowly, "then it means it's still not fully sealed."
Lyra nodded. "The Gatekeeper warned us. Some fragments might survive."
"Then this one found a way here."
"And it's looking for me."
Silence stretched between them.
Kaien hated that silence. It reminded him of before—of losing her once, of walking worlds alone.
"Then we deal with it," he said firmly. "Together."
Lyra smiled faintly. "You always say that."
"I always mean it."
---
The next morning, the wind screamed.
Trees bent. The sky turned a pale violet.
And from the mist came the figure.
It was tall, shrouded in black mist. Its shape was fluid, but vaguely human. No face. No hands. Just the suggestion of a body—and a heart made of shifting crystal.
Kaien and Lyra stood at the village border, armed with Nexus-forged weapons: a blade of thought, and a bow of woven memory.
The villagers watched from behind the wardstones.
The figure stepped forward.
And spoke—not aloud, but into their minds.
"You are the Echo. You do not belong. You must return."
Lyra raised her bow. "I chose to leave. I paid the price."
"The price is not yet fulfilled."
Kaien stepped between them. "If you want her, you'll have to go through me."
The Echo pulsed, its crystal heart glowing with swirling fragments—memories. Kaien saw flashes:
The collapse of the Dream City.
Lyra's sacrifice at the Nexus core.
His own screams in the void.
The Echo wasn't a monster.
It was a collector. A piece of the Nexus that had gathered what was lost. And now it wanted to reclaim its core.
Lyra.
---
The battle began in silence.
Kaien charged first, blade singing through the air. The Echo shifted like smoke, dodging with ease. Lyra released arrows of memory—each one carving light into the fog.
But the Echo didn't fight to kill.
It fought to bind.
Tendrils of thought wrapped around Kaien's ankle. He severed them with a shout.
Lyra aimed for the heart.
Her arrow struck true.
The Echo staggered.
But didn't fall.
Instead, it split.
One figure became three—each a different memory of Lyra.
One was a child.
One was a warrior.
One was the Nexus version of her, cloaked in violet flame.
Kaien froze.
"Lyra—don't look at them!"
But she did.
And her eyes filled with tears.
"They're… all me."
The Echo whispered again.
"You left pieces behind. We bring them to you. Merge. Return."
---
For a moment, Lyra wavered.
Her hands trembled.
Kaien ran to her side. "You're not just a fragment anymore," he said, voice sharp. "You're whole because you chose to be."
She looked at him, eyes full of fear.
"I'm afraid if I reject them, I'll forget who I was. Or worse… who I could've been."
He took her hand.
"Then remember this: You're my sister. You saved me. And now we protect this world together."
She closed her eyes.
And let go.
The memories shattered.
The Echo screamed—not in sound, but in feeling. A wrenching sorrow. An ending.
Its heart cracked.
Light poured out.
And then—silence.
The figure collapsed into mist.
The wind stopped.
The sky cleared.
---
Later, they stood at the riverbank where the Echo had first appeared.
"What do we do now?" Lyra asked.
Kaien looked out at the water.
"We build stronger walls. Prepare for more."
"You think there will be others?"
"Not think," he said. "I know."
Lyra nodded. "Then I'll stand with you."
He smiled. "You always do."
---
That night, they placed the Echo's crystal core in a shrine beside their tower.
Not to honor it.
But to remember.
That even lost pieces deserve a place.
Even if only to remind them how far they'd come.