The sky cracked again.
Kael didn't look up.
Everyone else did.
The sound rolled across the floating island of Aeris Minor like distant thunder. Market stalls shook. Wind tore loose cloth banners from their hooks. Above, lightning rippled through the permanent storm below the islands.
"They're testing another Echo," someone muttered.
Kael tightened his grip on the crate he was carrying. Dock work paid poorly, but it didn't require talent.
And talent, in this world, meant surviving an Echo bond.
He'd failed once already.
At twelve years old, he'd stepped into the Cathedral Vault like every other child. He'd placed his hand on a dormant relic. He'd waited.
Nothing.
No whisper.No warmth.No power.
Just silence.
They called him Hollowborn after that.
A boy the past refused to speak to.
Another crack split the air.
But this one was wrong.
It didn't echo from the sky.
It echoed from inside him.
Kael stumbled. The crate hit the stone dock and burst open, spilling metal fittings across the ground.
And then—
A voice.
Not outside.
Inside.
"Finally."
Kael froze.
The world dimmed. Sound stretched thin. Even the wind seemed distant.
You hear me, the voice said again.
His breath trembled. "No."
Dockworkers stared at him.
"What?"
He couldn't answer them.
Because now he saw it.
Beneath his skin, faint lines of silver light traced across his arms like fractures in glass.
And far below the island — beyond the storm, beyond the clouds — something enormous shifted.
The voice whispered again.
"You were not Hollow."
You were sealed.
The silver light surged.
And for the first time in recorded history—
An Echo chose its host without permission.