Cael's chest tightened. The figure before him wasn't some stranger from the dream. It was him.
Older. Harder. Eyes full of weariness that only came from a lifetime of fighting.
The apparition's armor shimmered faintly, the crest upon its shoulder a twisted reflection of the symbol on Cael's palm.
> "You remember it, don't you?" the echo whispered. "The oath. The war. The price."
Cael's heart pounded so loud it drowned out the crickets.
"I'm not you," he said, voice trembling. "I don't want to be you."
The spirit tilted its head. "And yet you are. Memory cannot be buried forever. You can paint it, rename it, dress it in innocence—but beneath it all, you are still the same man who ended a world."
The wind rose. The burnt circle began to hum again, light rippling across its edge like water under starlight.
> "The rift followed you here," the echo said. "You carried it inside your soul. And it will open again."
Cael shook his head violently. "No! This world is different! I'm different!"
The echo's expression softened—sad, almost gentle.
> "We all say that, before we fall."
The shape began to fade, its body unraveling into mist.
> "When the next surge comes, remember: peace built on silence never lasts. You can't protect them from memory."
"Wait!" Cael stepped forward. "Tell me what you mean! Who are you—really?"
The figure paused, voice fading like the last note of a song.
> "You already know my name."
The light vanished.
Only the faint hum of the Aethermark remained, pulsing under Cael's skin like a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
---
He didn't sleep the rest of the night.
By dawn, the courtyard looked ordinary again—no burned marks, no glowing soil, no ghost. Only him, standing in the early light, feeling the weight of two worlds pressing against his chest.
Lyra found him there hours later, barefoot, pale, staring at nothing.
"Cael?"
He turned slowly. "You shouldn't be up."
"You shouldn't either." She stepped closer, eyes wide. "Did something happen again?"
He opened his mouth to lie, but stopped. She deserved something real.
"I saw… someone," he said carefully. "A man. Or maybe just a memory."
Lyra frowned. "From your dreams?"
"Yes. But he knew me."
She hesitated, then reached for his hand. "Was he scary?"
Cael thought of the sadness in the echo's eyes. "Not scary. Just… sad."
Lyra squeezed his hand. "Then maybe he's lonely. Maybe he wants to be remembered."
Her words hung in the air like soft sunlight breaking through fog.
Maybe he's lonely.
He looked down at his sister—her warmth, her innocence—and realized how fragile this peace was. How easily it could shatter if the truth came out.
He smiled faintly. "You might be right."
"Of course I am." She grinned. "Now come inside before Mother yells at us."
He let her pull him away, but the whisper still lingered in his mind.
Peace built on silence never lasts.
---
That afternoon, the Renard estate received another visitor.
A rider from the capital—dressed in the silver and blue of the royal couriers—handed Elias a sealed envelope marked with a crimson wax sigil.
Cael saw the symbol and felt his stomach twist. It was the same design that burned on the echo's armor.
Elias frowned. "A summons from the capital? But why?"
The rider bowed. "By royal decree, all individuals who have exhibited Aether anomalies are to be examined at the Temple of Echoes. It is said the Order of Mnemos will oversee the tests personally."
Mira's face drained of color. "He's just a boy!"
The rider's expression was sympathetic but firm. "The law does not distinguish by age, my lady."
Thane, who had been standing silently nearby, placed a hand on Elias's shoulder. "I'll escort them. The boy will be safe under my watch."
Elias nodded slowly, though his eyes betrayed doubt.
Cael said nothing. He could feel the mark beneath his bandages pulsing in quiet defiance, as if mocking the idea of being examined.
---
That night, as the house slept, Cael sat at his window again.
He looked at the moon reflected on the lake, silver and perfect, untouched by fire.
He wanted to believe this world could stay that way.
But the echo's words haunted him.
The rift followed you here.
He didn't know what that meant, but a terrible certainty gnawed at him: he hadn't escaped his old sins. He'd brought them with him.
A soft knock came at his door.
"Still awake?" Thane's low voice asked.
Cael turned. "Couldn't sleep."
The knight stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The candlelight flickered against the scar on his cheek, making him look even older.
"You saw something last night, didn't you?"
Cael hesitated. "A man. Or an echo of one. He called me Commander."
Thane nodded slowly. "Then the Order's visit isn't coincidence. They've been hunting traces like you for years."
"Traces?"
"Living memories," Thane said quietly. "Reincarnations of souls the world tried to forget."
He sat beside Cael, placing a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. "Listen. Whatever you are, whatever this is—you can still choose what to do with it. Don't let your past decide the kind of man you'll become."
Cael met his eyes. "And if the past doesn't let me go?"
Thane smiled sadly. "Then you fight it until it does."
---
When the knight left, Cael remained by the window. The candle burned low, casting long shadows on the floor.
He touched his palm, feeling the faint warmth of the Aethermark.
For the first time, he didn't see it as a curse. Not entirely.
Maybe it was a reminder—of who he'd been, and who he still could become.
But deep beneath that thought, another whisper stirred.
> "You can fight the past, Ardyn Vale. But can you fight yourself?"
The flame flickered out.
And in the darkness, his reflection in the window smiled back at him—just slightly, just enough to send a chill down his spine.
---
End of Chapter 5 – Whispers of the Past(Part 2)