They traveled eastward beneath a sky bruised with stormlight, the gold of Lysandra's awakening still fresh in their minds. The terrain had shifted—gone were the cracked sands and pale dunes. Now, the earth swelled into jagged peaks and narrow ravines, the bones of the world laid bare.
Elara walked at the front, the Light Sigil burning softly against her chest. Its warmth was constant but unsettling, like holding a piece of the sun too close to the heart. Each pulse reminded her of the vision she'd seen in Lysandra's mirror—a future not yet written, but looming.
Kael matched her pace. "You haven't spoken much."
"There's little to say," Elara murmured. "Just dreams. Fears."
He nodded. "That makes two of us."
Behind them, the others moved in cautious formation. Maeron scanned the cliffs, blades at the ready. Ryssa ran a calloused hand along the stone walls as if listening for hidden tremors. Aelis hummed beneath her breath, fingers fluttering like leaves in the wind. Tovan, ever the scout, darted ahead to check every bend in the narrow path.
Lysandra walked near the center, her golden aura dimmed to a candle's glow. She had been quiet since giving Elara the sigil, and though she smiled when spoken to, her eyes carried a distant sadness.
By midday, the canyon walls gave way to a valley so silent it felt like stepping into a dream.
"This is it," Lysandra said softly. "The Gate of Echoes."
The Gate was not a door, but an amphitheater carved into the side of the mountain. Stone tiers descended in wide, perfect circles toward a massive disc set in the earth. It shimmered like moonlight on water, etched with runes that seemed to breathe.
"No one built this," Maeron said under his breath.
"Not *people*," Lysandra confirmed. "The leylines built it. Or perhaps they *remembered* it into being."
Tovan peered over the edge. "So how do we open it?"
"The gate opens only when all sigils are present," Lysandra said. "And when a truth is spoken aloud."
Kael frowned. "What truth?"
"That which binds us," she said. "And that which might break us."
Elara approached the disc. The sigils of Fire, Stone, Wind, and Light pulsed across their Keepers' palms. But the disc did not stir.
"We're missing one," Kael said.
A silence passed. All eyes turned to Maeron.
He exhaled slowly. "The Shadow Sigil."
"You still haven't—" Elara began.
"I *can't*," Maeron snapped. "I buried it for a reason."
Ryssa stepped forward, arms crossed. "Then dig it back up. We didn't fight leviathans and walk through memory just to be turned away now."
Maeron looked away. "If I summon it, I may not be able to control it. You think fire's dangerous? Shadow is *truth*. It doesn't lie, and it doesn't care what it destroys."
Elara walked up to him and placed her hand over his. "We'll face it together."
Maeron closed his eyes. Then, slowly, he pulled off his glove.
The sigil blazed to life—dark as ink, etched into his skin like a burn. The shadows around him writhed, bending toward him like children to a parent.
The disc at the center of the amphitheater shuddered. A deep sound echoed from the earth—a heartbeat, slow and thunderous. The runes began to glow, each one lighting in succession.
A circle of flame. A pillar of stone. A swirl of wind. A beam of light. And now—*a well of shadow*.
The Gate opened.
***
The descent was silent.
Beneath the amphitheater lay a staircase carved into living crystal. Each step reflected the travelers not as they were, but as they feared to be.
Elara saw herself ablaze, screaming. Kael saw a sword through his own chest. Ryssa flinched at the image of her homeland in ruins. Aelis walked with her eyes closed, whispering wind into her ears to block the visions.
Maeron alone did not seem fazed.
They reached the bottom, and before them stretched a hall of mirrors—tall, seamless, pulsing with soft light.
Elara stepped forward, her reflection flickering.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"The Gate is not just a door," Lysandra said. "It's a test."
"Test of what?"
"Of *why* you came."
A sound stirred from the far end of the hall. A slow, echoing voice, layered like multiple tones stacked into one.
**"SPEAK YOUR TRUTH."**
The air thickened. The mirrors pulsed.
Elara stepped into the circle at the center of the chamber. "I want to stop the Harrower. I want to protect the Heartforge. I want to save our world."
The voice echoed: **"AND?"**
She clenched her fists. "And I don't want to die doing it."
Silence.
Then, a slow glow.
Kael followed, stepping beside her. "I came because I couldn't protect the last Keeper I swore to. I won't fail again."
Glow.
Ryssa entered next. "I came because the world needs rebuilding. And I want to build something that lasts."
Glow.
Aelis: "I want to remember who I was. And maybe become someone new."
Glow.
Tovan, smirking as usual: "I came because if the world ends, I want to say I saw it with my own eyes. And maybe make sure it doesn't."
Glow.
Last was Maeron. He hesitated.
"I came to *atone*," he said. "And to kill the man I once followed."
The chamber pulsed once—then the floor split, revealing a spiral stair descending into utter darkness.
No glow. No warmth. Just cold invitation.
Elara looked at Maeron. "He's waiting for us, isn't he?"
Maeron nodded. "And he knows we're coming."
***
They descended again, deeper into the roots of the mountain. Here, the air was thick with magic—*old* magic. It vibrated in their teeth, hummed in their bones.
A chamber opened ahead, vast and circular, with a dais at its center. Upon it stood a fountain of pure leyline energy—liquid light, suspended and swirling.
"The Heartforge's threshold," Lysandra whispered. "This is the last place the Harrower cannot reach."
Elara stepped forward. "Then we make our stand here."
Kael unsheathed his sword. "Or we push forward. We still don't know what he's planning."
A figure stepped from the shadows.
Tall. Hooded. Cloaked in ash and bone.
The Harrower.
Except—
No.
It was someone else.
"Not yet," the figure said. "But he *is* coming."
Elara's breath caught. "Who—?"
The figure removed their hood.
Elara stared into her own face.
Older. Scarred. Hardened.
"I am you," the woman said. "Or the part of you that remembers *everything*."
Elara staggered back. "This is a trick."
"No," the woman said gently. "It's a *warning*."
Kael moved between them. "What is this place?"
"A knot in time," Lysandra said slowly. "The Gate doesn't test only truth. It shows what may come—if we succeed, or if we fail."
Elara stared at her older self.
"What happens if I fail?"
"You become me."
"And if I win?"
The older Elara smiled faintly. "Then I never have to exist."
The chamber darkened.
A pulse shook the air.
The Heartforge called.
And the Harrower drew near.