It was the start of a new semester. A restless energy threaded itself into the academy walls, and new students lost their paths in search of their classes. The upperclassmen didn't judge them. We watched and remembered our own first days — the goals we'd once set, and the ones we'd since abandoned.
Eryx and I had been assigned to the same courses again this year — a mix of advanced history and refined combat. Third-year students like us didn't have to enroll in many classes, having earned most of our credits during our first two years. Instead, we were tasked with focusing on personal research and training. Concordia provided the resources and professors to help refine our skills for our future careers, whether that was on the battlefield or within the corporate scene.
The academy itself felt like a temple — gothic archways woven with glowing conduit lines, faint pulses crawling along the floors like breath. In a world powered by divine technology, the academy stuck out due to its archaic appearance. Concordia had always claimed neutrality, but there were rumors. Some even said the king himself had a hand in its founding — a way to groom future pawns, not protect them.
I felt guilty for not telling Eryx my decision to fight in the war yet — for keeping a secret from the one person I trusted most. But my dream of becoming an Invoker and my feelings for him… they didn't belong together. Confessing the truth could strain our friendship. I adjusted my sleeves, though they weren't out of place, choosing not to doubt myself when the fruits of my labor would soon be ready.
Today's classes were all in the same lecture room, taught by Professor Lysandra. She was a kind woman with a deep passion for the history of the war and the origins of Invoking. The students took a liking to her quickly due to her flexible teaching style, encouraging students to participate.
She placed the chalk down and turned to face us. "I'd like someone to explain what Echoes are. Eryx?"
He rose and answered confidently. "Yes, ma'am. Echoes are weapons born within an Invoker's being. They are the manifestations of what it means to be one."
She gave a short golf clap. "Very good, Eryx. But you're missing something. Alira, do you think you can polish his answer?"
"Yes, ma'am," I stood up. "Echoes are indeed weapons created by what dwells within an Invoker, however, they are more than just weapons. An Echo is a manifestation of the Invoker's identity — their heart, soul, and memories. The deeper one understands themselves, the stronger they can become."
I felt proud of my answer. If Echoes really did reflect who we were on the inside, then maybe I wasn't as empty and hollow as I feared.
"Very well done, Alira – and you as well, Eryx," Ms. Lysandra said, her tone light but deliberate. "An Echo is born from identity. Does yours take the form of a weapon? A shield? Or maybe something entirely different. Whatever it is, you must ask yourself – what makes you, you?..."
She continued with her lecture, opening the semester with the same reminders we'd all heard before – Lumeira's truths, the war, and the role of the Invokers. But none of it was what I wanted to hear. Why didn't we ever talk about where Echoes came from?
"To be an Invoker," she said, pausing with a brief sigh. "You must not only manifest your Echo – you must learn to master it. And in doing so, you master yourself. The divine beings we fight against in the spiritual domains are fearsome. They claim to be heavensent – to cleanse impurity – yet they harbor such monstrous hate for our world."
She brought her hands together, fingers wrapped in a quiet, prayer-like gesture. "Humanity was blessed with the discovery of our own Echoes, and you students have been given the opportunity to revel in that blessing," then, letting her hands fall. "That is all for today. Be safe now."
It was clear that Ms. Lysandra cared deeply for us. The consequences of the war are not limited to the domains. For her to devote her life to preparing students — many of whom she'd grow fond of — for what might be their end, must have been heartbreaking. However, the fact that she held us in such high regard gave me the confidence to ask her a question that's been weighing on me — to ask about that same blessing she praised so much.
"I have to know… if that's what Echoes truly are." I whispered, walking over to where the professor stood.
"Excuse me, Ms. Lysandra," I began. "If it's no bother, I have a question. I assumed you would be the only one who would know."
Her face turned toward mine with a welcoming smile. "Ah, Alira. You can ask me anything. What is it, dear?"
The warmth she carried brought on an odd sense of nostalgia, urging me to get to the point. "I had hoped you could spare some time to help me with my research. I want to know more about the origins of Echoes."
"Oh… Alira…" she paused. Her smile faltered, just for a second. "It's difficult to find time these days. Perhaps you can find some resources in the library to aid your research."
Her reaction was unusual. For some reason, I felt like I made her remember something she didn't want to think about.
"...I see. If you'll excuse me then-" I said, ready to take my leave.
"Alira," she stopped me with a guilty sound escaping her mouth. "I apologize…"
When I stepped out of the classroom, I decided to follow her suggestion and search for answers in the library. The other students had already left, but Eryx stood down the hall alone, waiting.
He noticed me and approached slowly. "Wow, I gotta hand it to you, you've gotten a lot smarter. When'd you get the time to learn so much?"
I wanted to talk, but today's lecture left me unsatisfied. My questions from yesterday morning lingered in my head.
"Sorry Eryx, I'm in a bit of a rush. Can we talk tomorrow in Zauren's class? See you!" I replied.
I tried to walk past him, but his hand gripped my shoulder. He wasn't gentle and it caused me to flinch. His head was slightly held down.
"Eryx? Is something wrong?" I asked.
He paused for a bit, then his grip on me loosened. "...Oh, sorry! I wanted to say something, but I suddenly forgot. See ya! Be safe on your way back."
I'd never seen Eryx look so unsure. Whatever he wanted to say, he buried it. That scared me more than I let on. Although his behavior was odd, my mind kept circling back to what Ms. Lysandra said.
"Alira. I apologize… in truth, I am not in the position to tell you — no, I wouldn't know the full truth myself."
Her face when she apologized. She looked concerned. Not for herself, but for me? Something flickered in her eyes, like pity. I didn't know, but it unsettled me. If she wouldn't even touch the subject, what was I getting myself into?
I didn't expect that kind of reaction, much less have her apologize. If it's something that even a professor isn't given the jurisdiction to know, then it must be off-limits to the general public. Something was being hidden. Who was hiding it, and why? I couldn't let this go, and I set off for the library.
My footsteps echoed too clearly in the library's silence — like the room had been listening. Watching. When I arrived, I realized I didn't even know where to start. If the truth was being kept a secret, history books might have been altered to support that endeavor. Despite that, I grabbed a handful of books and began my search.
"No luck…"
Not a single one scratched the surface on the Echoes' origin. And I realized — I'd never questioned it before. How long had I lived with this magic stitched into the world around me? Echoes powered our lights, our battles, and our entire way of life. We studied how to use them, how to survive them – but not where they came from. Not why they existed. That absence… it wasn't just strange. It felt deliberate.
I returned the other books, their covers feeling colder in my hands than they had when I initially picked them up. Facts and theories — could they even be called that? All of it felt so carefully constructed. Then I walked deeper into the library's labyrinth. Concordia housed a great amount of knowledge within its walls — old records, sealed archives, and even documents from earlier years of the war. The rising suspicion in my chest made me fear that nothing here would be true, but I pressed forward. Somewhere in that maze, there had to be a clue. I just had to search deeper — go far enough in and far enough back.
The deeper I went, the more certain my steps felt. Like something quiet was pulling me forward, even if I didn't know why. I didn't know where exactly I was going, but I kept walking. Something in the air felt familiar, like I was following a call I couldn't hear.
I was passing the fiction section when I noticed some books on the floor. They must have fallen from the shelves, so I took some time to return them to their proper places. That's when I noticed a book sitting on the top shelf that looked strangely out of place. It was more worn out than the rest, but that wasn't all — the cover was cloaked in a dark haze, like the black fog that covers the sky. It didn't reflect light the way the other books did; instead, it seemed to drink it in, as if shadows clung to its surface. The longer I looked at it, the harder it became to focus.
The cloud did not move with the air. Instead, it looked as if it pulsed in a set rhythm. Slow. Steady. Like it had a heartbeat. Like it was waiting for mine to match it. The weight of my bag suddenly caused my body to shift. Opening it, I saw the same darkness seep from within my bag. It was like the two books were reacting to one another. My eyes looked back towards the one on the top shelf.
I tried grabbing it, but I couldn't quite reach it. I thought I felt a presence and checked over my shoulder. No one. But it didn't feel like no one. It felt like someone had just been there — fast, too fast for me to catch. The air still carried a faint weight, like the trace of wind that shouldn't have blown. I paused for a moment and tried again, when another hand reached over mine and grabbed the book.
"Is this the one you want?"
"Oh, yes, that's it. Thank you-" I looked over to the person holding the book out toward me. A large man with dark brown hair, scars on his face, and… red eyes. We stood there for a moment, and our eyes met once again.
"Oh! Sir Zauren! I apologize, I didn't notice it was you…"
"Is this the book you were reaching for?" he asked again — but his voice wasn't steady.
Not entirely. He looked at the book like it hurt to hold. He glanced at the book, tightening his grip.
"Yes, thank you very much. Oh, and…I'm Alira, one of your new students for your class starting tomorrow."
"I see. Well then," he replied.
He handed me the book without meeting my eyes again. Then turned and walked off, like our encounter had taken something from him. I was tense until he was out of my view; aside from his demeanor, he stood with such presence.
"Why was he here?" I whispered to myself.
Maybe Eryx was wrong and Zauren actually is fond of books. I pushed the thought aside — for now, and examined the book in my hand.
There wasn't a title or an author's name written on any part of the wraparound cover, nor within the pages. The ink on some pages was beginning to fade. I checked to see if Concordia's library sigil was on the cover. Nothing. No — if there was something written on it, it was being covered by the strange shroud. Why did the library have a book like this? Had someone left it here?
I felt the question gnawing at me and I took the book over to a nearby desk. I skimmed through the pages, hoping I could get the gist of its contents, recognizing that it was a record of the discoveries a scholar had made. I reached into my bag, searched for my book and set the two side-by-side.
The fog thickened, causing me to flinch. I opened them both, neither of the books had a title, nor an author to claim. Yet somehow, buried in both, was the same story — a story that whispered the life of a renowned academic figure. A surge of questions stormed my mind, yet one in particular concerned me the most — why did the man in the record claim responsibility for a supernatural war? It didn't read like a revelation, it felt apologetic; despair stained the pages.
My blood ran cold when I read the words he wrote next-
"If I had known what would follow, I would have listened to her warnings and burned myself alongside my notes the moment of the first manifestation. But instead, I gave it a name. I called it an Echo. And with that, I welcomed ruin."
My eyes trailed over the faded lines again, hoping I misread it the first time. What started out as research on the origins of our power quickly became a potential clue for another, more personal truth. The similarity between the two should've thrilled me; a lead, a connection. But instead, my body went cold.
If the man in my book is the same scholar in the second, does that mean that he wrote them? I thought to have the librarian confirm their possession of the book, but quickly tossed that idea aside; if they were to see these strange shadows, they'd confiscate both and I'd lose my only lead.
That's when I recalled how unsettling Zauren's reaction was when he saw it — his eyes narrowed. Not in confusion, but in recognition; perhaps he knows something. Was he here for this? Fear had overshadowed my curiosity for a moment, but it quickly demanded its attention again.
If what I found unraveled the story I loved… would there be anything left for me to believe in? How can the scholar's story lead him to burning the world?
It could very well be a made-up story, pure fiction. In case it isn't, however, then we've all been fooled. The world had forgotten what Echoes truly were. The book that raised me didn't feel like a bedtime story, but a confession. And again, I wasn't sure who I was — only that I had to keep reading. But a single thought in my head was louder than the rest…
Why did I feel like I heard those words before?
And why did I picture the man in my dreams when I read them?