The journey to Elarion began under blood-red skies.
Kael stood at the edge of a ruined overlook, staring at the shattered valley below. What had once been the capital of a thriving civilization was now little more than a skeleton of itself—towering spires crumbled like broken fingers, and rivers flowed black with Rift energy.
The Gauntlet on his arm pulsed steadily, as though in silent warning.
Ryssa came up beside him, quiet but firm. "You feel it too."
Kael nodded. "Something's watching."
Seris joined them, slinging her bow over her shoulder. "The Sovereign's Echo... you think it knows we're coming?"
"It's not just waiting," Veyr said from behind. "It's inviting us."
---
They traveled for two days through the skeletal remains of Elarion. The streets whispered with voices that weren't there. Once, Kael saw the shadow of a man burned into a wall—caught mid-scream, his figure etched by pure energy.
At night, they made camp in the hollowed bones of what had been a cathedral. The stained glass was long gone, replaced by growing tendrils of Riftroot. Kael couldn't sleep. The Gauntlet hummed with tension.
He rose quietly and stepped into the open, the cold wind biting at his skin. Across the courtyard, Veyr stood unmoving, eyes fixed on the horizon.
"You've changed," Kael said.
Veyr didn't look away. "So have you."
Kael waited. Veyr finally turned.
"This Echo we're facing—it's not like the Wardens or the beasts from the rifts. It's... part of him. A living memory. A weaponized version of the Sovereign's will."
Kael clenched his fist. "Then it dies like the rest."
Veyr frowned. "It might not be that easy. If it's truly attuned to the Source Node, it can bend time. Twist causality. It could unmake you before you strike."
Kael didn't flinch. "Then I'll hit faster."
---
The next morning, they reached the heart of Elarion. A crater lay where the palace once stood—deep, wide, and pulsing with dark light. At its center, floating just above the void, was a figure.
It resembled Kael.
Not in clothing or armor, but in presence.
The Echo hovered with arms outstretched, shrouded in a shifting cloak of dimensional static. Its face was veiled, but its voice was unmistakable.
"Welcome, Broken One. You carry potential... but still cling to weakness."
Kael stepped forward, weapon in hand. "You're in my way."
"I am the way," the Echo replied. "The Sovereign has no need for free threads in his tapestry. You will be woven, or you will be cut."
The battle began with sound—no, absence of sound. The moment the Echo moved, the world hushed. Kael barely dodged the first strike—a lance of inverted time, ripping a hole through space where his chest had been.
Seris loosed a barrage of arrows, each one burning with Rift energy. They bent around the Echo, falling harmlessly to the ground.
Toran charged, only to be flung backward by a wave of pressure.
Kael engaged head-on, the Gauntlet glowing. With each clash, his body remembered things it shouldn't know—his muscles moved with impossible reflexes, countering blows before they landed.
But the Echo was faster. Stronger. Every moment it existed, it learned Kael. Adapted.
Ryssa screamed. "Kael! It's predicting you!"
He bit back a curse. The Gauntlet thrummed—then shifted.
The color changed from silver to deep blue. Lines of light crawled along his veins. Kael blinked—and the world slowed.
For a moment, he saw the paths of possibility. Dozens of versions of the fight. In one, he died. In another, Ryssa did. But in one thread—one faint glimmer—he won.
He lunged.
Their blades met in a crack of light. The Echo staggered—Kael had hit its weak moment, the exact sliver of time where it couldn't counter.
The Echo roared. Its cloak expanded, shrouding the battlefield in blackness.
Kael screamed as visions flooded him—alternate lives. A world where he died at the orphanage. A life where he led an army. Another where he became the Sovereign.
He almost lost himself.
But a hand grabbed his.
Ryssa.
"Come back," she whispered. "You're not done yet."
Kael gritted his teeth, focused—and pulled free of the illusion.
The battlefield snapped back.
Kael's blade plunged through the Echo's chest.
It convulsed, dark light leaking from its form.
"Unbroken..." it hissed. "You change too much..."
Kael twisted the blade. "That's what makes me stronger."
With a final scream, the Echo exploded in a shockwave of void energy.
---
Silence returned. The crater slowly stilled.
Kael dropped to one knee, breathing heavily. His vision swam.
Veyr helped him up. "You just faced a piece of the Sovereign—and won."
Kael looked at the Gauntlet. It had changed again—etched with new runes, one of them glowing red.
Ryssa stepped forward, holding up a crystal she had picked from the wreckage.
"It's a memory shard," she said. "It holds data. Maps. Echoes of other timelines. This... this can help us find the true core."
Kael nodded, determination hardening in his eyes.
"Then we keep going. We find the Source. We end this war."
Seris smiled. "One Echo down. Countless more to go."
Toran grinned. "Good. I was starting to enjoy this."
They turned north.
Ahead lay the Shattered Steppe—a land twisted by conflicting timelines. Dangerous. Untouched.
Perfect for warriors who no longer feared the impossible.
Kael clenched his fist.
He was Unbroken.
And his war was only beginning.