They reached the waystation at dusk.
It was little more than a stone ring around a shallow fire pit, the remnants of a roof collapsed inward long ago. Moss clung to the walls in thick patches, and a single post still stood upright near the entrance, its top worn smooth by hands that no longer came.
Someone had camped here recently.
Kael could tell without seeing the signs.
The air carried a faint residue—not scent, not sound, but a pressure that lingered like warmth after a body moved away. It settled against his chest the moment he stepped inside the ring, subtle but insistent.
Senna noticed his hesitation. "We can keep going."
"No," Kael said. "We should stop."
She searched his face. "Because it's safe?"
He shook his head. "Because it already knows we're here."
That earned him a long look, but she didn't argue.
They set their packs down near the fire pit. Senna worked efficiently, clearing debris and checking the perimeter. Kael remained standing, eyes fixed on the interior of the ring, waiting for something he couldn't name.
The pulses in his ears were faint tonight, barely more than a reminder. That, too, unsettled him.
He moved toward the far wall, where a slab of stone jutted inward at an odd angle. It didn't belong to the original structure. The stone was darker than the rest, its surface smoother, as if it had been placed rather than fallen.
Kael stopped a few steps away.
The map case at his side grew warm.
He froze.
Slowly, carefully, he lifted the case away from his body and held it in both hands. The warmth intensified, spreading through the leather and into his palms.
"I'm not opening you," he murmured. "I'm not asking."
The warmth didn't fade.
Behind him, Senna stiffened. "Kael."
"I know."
The stone slab shuddered.
Not visibly. Not dramatically. Just enough that the sensation rippled through the air, like a held breath released.
The slab's surface brightened slightly, veins of dull light threading through the stone—not glowing, not active, but present.
Kael took a step back.
The light persisted.
"This isn't a ruin," Senna said quietly. "It's a marker."
Kael nodded. "Or a listener."
He lowered the map case to the ground and stepped away from it entirely. The warmth faded almost immediately, leaving a lingering chill in his fingers.
The stone did not dim.
"I didn't touch it," Kael said, voice tight. "I didn't tune. I didn't even look closely."
Senna's jaw clenched. "Then what triggered it?"
Kael didn't answer.
He was too busy noticing what else had changed.
The waystation felt… aligned.
The air no longer pressed inward. The ground beneath his feet felt even, balanced, as if something had quietly corrected itself. The faint residue he'd sensed earlier was gone, replaced by a stillness that felt deliberate rather than empty.
"This place was used," he said slowly. "Not to rest. To pass something on."
Senna glanced at the stone slab again. "A relic?"
"Not exactly." Kael swallowed. "More like a… remainder."
They didn't sleep much that night.
The stone slab remained faintly lit, never bright enough to illuminate the waystation, never dim enough to be ignored. Kael avoided looking at it directly, though he could feel its presence even with his eyes closed.
At some point, he became aware of movement beyond the ring.
Not footsteps.
Reactions.
The world beyond the waystation shifted subtly—grass bending where no wind blew, stones settling as if accommodating unseen weight. Whatever had once passed through this place was no longer here, but its influence lingered, shaping how the land responded to those who followed.
Kael lay awake, staring at the dark.
This is how it spreads, he realized.
Not through force. Through acknowledgment.
Morning came pale and quiet.
The stone slab had dimmed, its veins of light barely visible now. Kael approached cautiously, stopping well short of touching it.
Up close, he could see faint markings etched along its surface—not symbols, not writing. They resembled pressure marks, shallow and uneven, as if someone had pressed their hands against the stone repeatedly over a long period of time.
"These aren't instructions," Senna said, joining him. "They're habits."
Kael nodded. "Someone learned how to stand here."
He reached into his pack and withdrew a small piece of charcoal.
Senna tensed. "You're not going to—"
"I'm not marking," Kael said quickly. "Just… noting."
He held the charcoal loosely, hovering it near the stone without making contact. The pulses in his ears flickered, uncertain.
Kael hesitated.
Then he pulled his hand back.
"No," he said quietly. "Not yet."
The pulses settled.
They left the waystation shortly after, neither of them looking back.
By midday, they encountered others on the road.
A small group—three people, heavily burdened, moving with the wary coordination of those who had learned to watch their surroundings carefully. They slowed when they saw Kael and Senna approach, eyes flicking immediately to Kael's map case.
One of them—a woman with a scar running from her temple to her jaw—spoke first. "You carrying one of those?"
Kael didn't answer.
The woman nodded as if he had. "Figures."
Her companions shifted uneasily. "We should keep moving."
"No," she said. "This is important."
She met Kael's gaze. "You didn't open it," she said. Again, not a question.
Kael felt a chill. "How do you know?"
She gestured vaguely. "Because the land hasn't twisted yet."
Senna's hand drifted toward her blade.
"We don't want trouble," Kael said carefully.
"Neither do we," the woman replied. "That's why I'm telling you this."
She leaned closer. "Whatever you're doing—it's not contained. Places are reacting. People too. We passed a town this morning where doors wouldn't open for anyone who listened too closely."
Kael's chest tightened.
"Echoes don't need permission," the woman continued. "They just need time."
Her gaze softened, just slightly. "Be careful what you leave behind."
They moved on without another word, their footsteps quickening as they put distance between themselves and Kael.
Senna exhaled slowly. "That's the first time someone warned us without trying to stop us."
Kael watched the road ahead, where it dipped and curved in ways that no map could fully capture anymore.
"It won't be the last," he said.
The pulses in his ears returned, faint but steady.
Somewhere ahead, something waited.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Just attentive.
And Kael was beginning to understand the cost of being heard.