They found him in a thicket of heartthorn and briar.
The blood trail had thinned, but the air reeked of rot and burnt iron. The Warden had dragged himself beneath a fallen cedar, his body twisted around broken bark, eyes half-lidded, lips dry and cracked. His armor—once the deep forest green of the border patrol—was torn and scorched, a rent across his chest exposing the jagged ruin of the core embedded beneath his sternum.
He was dying.
No, Evelyn realized with a jolt—he was dead already. Only the core kept him tethered. A sliver of its light still pulsed like a heartbeat.
"Gods," Torren breathed.
The Warden's eyes fluttered open. Not fully—just enough for the white glow beneath his lashes to leak out like smoke.
"Run," he croaked, voice wet. "You shouldn't… be here."
Evelyn knelt beside him, hands hovering. She didn't touch. Something in the man's aura felt brittle—like touching him would shatter what remained.
"What happened?" she whispered.
He blinked slowly, gaze catching on hers. Then on the shard around her neck. His breath hitched.
"You've tasted it," he rasped. "The ember. You've opened."
Torren stiffened, one hand on the hilt of his sword. "She doesn't even know what that means."
The Warden gave a broken laugh, then coughed blood.
"She will."
Evelyn leaned closer, her voice urgent. "What attacked you? Why was the ward down?"
"Not a beast," the Warden said. "Not only. Something else… cloaked in silence… turned the Echoed against us. They moved like a tide, like they were called."
A flicker of panic edged into Evelyn's spine.
"There's something coming, isn't there?" she asked.
The Warden's jaw clenched. His right hand fluttered to his chest—to the fractured core embedded in it, its outer casing spiderwebbed and leaking tendrils of light like smoke.
"This core… too broken… it will unmake me soon. And if it does, the surge will call more. Listen."
He lifted the shattered crystal free from his body. His arms trembled. "Take it."
"What?"
"Take the core. Bind it. Or burn it. But do not let it shatter here. The death-surge would draw every Echoed in three valleys."
Evelyn's eyes widened. "I can't—"
"You must," he said, voice suddenly clear and sharp. "You've already begun. I see it in your eyes. You've stepped onto the path. This will not be your last choice. Only your first."
She reached forward, hesitating as her fingers neared the burning core. It pulsed in her mind—not words, but pressure, like a breath held in another world.
"Please," she whispered. "Tell me your name."
He smiled faintly. "I was… Kethar. Warden of the Sixth Circle. Bound to the Flame of Vigil."
Then his eyes rolled back.
And the core fell into her waiting hands.
It burned like frost.