Mist clung to the old aqueduct like a shroud, curling between cracks and vines. The path was narrow and uneven, a broken spine winding through the upper reaches of Vareth's ruins.
Kael walked ahead of the others, one hand trailing the moss-covered edge. The Echoheart was warm—not searing, but aware. It pulsed not with memory, but with a sense he hadn't felt before.
It was being watched.
They passed the first broken watchpost near midday.
Tovan stopped to examine the rusted remains of an archery frame. "These aren't from the city guard."
Elira stepped beside him, frowning at the glyphwork carved into the stone. "These marks… they're older. Obscured intentionally."
Kael bent closer. The symbol reminded him of a sun split down the middle, as if fractured.
A warning, the Echoheart murmured.
The aqueduct led them to a place where the city opened like a wound.
The upper citadel had been beautiful once—Kael could tell. Graceful towers now stood like snapped trees, bridges twisted into curling metal, and long stone halls gaped open to the sky.
They crossed into what had once been a stronghold.
Kael felt it in the layout—the narrow corridors, the choke-points, the shattered barricades.
Here, someone had fought.
And here, someone had lost.
They paused in what might once have been a courtyard. Elira scouted ahead. Tovan checked the perimeter. Kael sat beneath a crumbled arch and closed his eyes.
The wind carried a voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
"Kael?"
He opened his eyes, breath catching. The voice wasn't behind him. It was within.
"You always followed echoes."
His hand brushed the relic unconsciously. The warmth was stronger now.
Drawn, he stood and followed the winding corridor to the far edge of the ruin—where stone turned to smooth black metal.
A small chamber stood untouched.
No vines. No decay. Only stillness.
At the center stood a tall mirror framed by worn runes. Its surface shimmered faintly—not glass, not metal. Something in between.
Kael stepped closer.
No reflection met him.
Instead, a shape formed—a robed figure, wrapped in relic light and bone. The same watcher from the ruined spire.
The figure stared at him through the mirror, still and silent.
Then, it blinked.
Kael stepped back.
Behind him, the chamber shifted.
Runes on the far wall began to glow—one by one, in a circle.
"What did you just activate?" Tovan's voice echoed from the corridor.
Kael turned as Elira rushed in.
"Trap?" she asked.
Kael shook his head. "Worse."
A glyph burned red behind him—etched with a spiral and a keyhole.
Was the Echoheart warning him? Or just guiding him toward the next door it wanted opened?
"That's not a trap glyph," Elira hissed. "It's a tracker."
"They know where we are."
Far above them, the watcher turned away from the spire, its voice silent.
For now.
But the light around it burned brighter.
And the hunt had begun.