Chapter 4 — The Echo at Home
The moon hung high over Cinderhollow Lake, its reflection rippling in the still waters as Aren and Darius made their way through the quiet village streets. Lanternlight shimmered across the wooden walkways, casting long shadows that swayed like spirits over the lake's surface. The sound of lapping water echoed in Aren's mind like a gentle heartbeat.
The boy could feel everything — the whisper of wind against the walls, the rhythm of footsteps from distant guards, the steady pulse of his father walking beside him. Every vibration painted the world in invisible strokes. Though he couldn't see the path, he no longer stumbled; the world spoke to him now.
As they crossed the final bridge toward their home, the familiar scent of iron and herbs reached him. The Vale family house was modest but sturdy — a two-story dwelling built on a floating platform of enchanted oak, connected by a short walkway to the central district. It swayed softly with the water's rhythm.
Inside, the faint crackle of firewood greeted them.
A woman turned at the sound of the door opening. Lira Vale, Aren's mother, was slender but strong, her copper hair tied back, streaked faintly with gray from years of worry. Her eyes widened when she saw them.
"You're late," she said, relief laced with a touch of frustration. "The Ravager didn't—"
Her voice broke as she saw Aren's face.
The faint blue glow in his blind eyes shimmered softly in the firelight.
"Aren…" Her tone trembled. "Your eyes—"
Aren hesitated. "I… found my Origin, Mom."
Lira's breath caught. For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Then she rushed forward and cupped his face in her hands. "Oh, my heart… you did?"
He nodded, smiling faintly. "It finally answered me."
Darius moved behind him, setting his gear down. "He found it in the forest — through a Pillager's stone. We don't know how or why, but the System recognized it. It's… powerful."
Lira's joy flickered into worry as she brushed her thumb across his cheek. "But your eyes…"
"They don't work anymore," Aren said quietly. "But it's all right. I can still see — just not the way I used to."
Her shoulders trembled. "You're blind, Aren. How can that ever be all right?"
He reached out and took her hand gently. "Because the world still talks to me. I can hear everything — even you. I can feel your heartbeat."
Lira bit her lip and looked to Darius, searching for assurance.
His father met her gaze with quiet confidence. "He's different now, Lira. The Warden Origin made him blind, yes — but it gave him more than sight. It gave him strength, awareness, power. He's not broken. He's becoming something greater."
Lira closed her eyes, taking a slow, steadying breath. "The Warden Origin…" she whispered. "I've only ever heard that name in the old texts."
Darius nodded grimly. "A rare one — maybe even unique. The capital will want to hear of this."
Aren tilted his head. "The capital?"
His father sighed, moving to sit by the fire. The wood hissed softly as embers rose between them.
"There's something you need to know," Darius began. "Every youth who awakens an Origin — no matter how strong or weak — must undergo mandatory Origin Training in the capital, under the Ministry of Essence. It's the law. They teach control, combat discipline, and channeling techniques."
Aren frowned. "You mean I'll have to leave the village?"
Darius nodded. "For a while, yes. They'll test your abilities, monitor your progress, and assign you a specialization path. You'll be trained with others your age. It's… a good opportunity."
"But they'll see my Origin, won't they?"
His father's expression darkened slightly. "Not unless you show them. The law doesn't require anyone to reveal their specific Origin type — only that they can prove control. You don't have to tell anyone you have the Warden."
Aren let out a breath of relief. "So I can keep it hidden."
"Exactly," Darius said. "And you should. The wrong people might see you as a prize — or a weapon. The Warden Origin was never meant to belong to a human. If word spreads…"
He didn't finish. He didn't have to.
Aren's jaw tightened. "Then I'll keep it secret."
Lira sank onto the couch beside him, her hand still clutching his. "You shouldn't have to hide who you are," she said softly. "But if it keeps you safe…" She brushed back his hair with a trembling smile. "You're still my boy. My brave, reckless boy who used to chase frogs along the lake shore."
Aren chuckled faintly. "You could hear me halfway across the village when I fell in."
Her laughter broke the tension for a moment. But the sadness in her eyes never left.
Darius stood and walked toward the window, gazing out at the glowing village across the water. Iron Golems marched along the wall in slow, rhythmic steps, their reflections flickering on the lake's surface like giants made of starlight.
"The capital's summons should arrive soon," he said. "But until then, we'll prepare. You'll need to understand your abilities — refine your control, strengthen your body, and adapt to your blindness."
Aren looked up. "You'll train me?"
Darius turned, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Who else? I trained hunters before you were born. I'll help you master this — Warden or not."
The blue glow in Aren's eyes pulsed faintly, as if in answer. "When do we start?"
"Tomorrow at dawn," his father said. "Out by the eastern dock. Bring whatever's left of your spear."
Aren nodded. "Yes, sir."
Lira sighed softly. "You just got home, and already you're planning to beat him up at sunrise?"
Darius chuckled. "Not beat him up — toughen him up. The world won't go easy on him. So neither can I."
Aren smiled, the exhaustion in his body fading beneath a new resolve. "I'm ready, Father."
Darius's eyes glowed faintly with white flame. "Good. Because from this moment forward, you're not just Aren Vale, the boy without an Origin."
He placed a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. "You're the Warden's Heir — and the world's finally listening to you."
Outside, the wind stirred the waters of the great lake, sending soft ripples toward the walls of Cinderhollow. The Iron Golems' patrols continued their steady march, echoing through the night — a rhythm that Aren could feel deep in his bones.
And for the first time in his life, the sound of the world didn't feel distant.
It felt like home.