---
The moment Lyrien spoke the name *Aria*, Arinthal's pulse quickened. It wasn't just the name of a stranger. It was a name that rang with something far greater—a name carried on the winds of prophecy, whispered in the darkest corners of the realms. The child of the King's Star. The one who would bring an end to the sorcerer Xandros's reign.
But hearing it now, from Lyrien's lips, felt like a key turning in the lock of some forgotten chamber. Her breath caught in her throat. This wasn't a tale of distant myth, a bedtime story whispered by the elders. This was real.
Arinthal stepped back, the fog swirling around her like a cage.
"Aria," she whispered. "Who is she? Where is she now?"
Lyrien's eyes darkened for a moment. "That's the question, isn't it? Where is she?"
The air between them thickened with unspoken tension. Arinthal's mind raced, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the hilt of her dagger. She had always been one to rely on herself, her own strength and the mastery of the elements. But this—this was something far beyond her. The King's Star. The child of prophecy. The Echoes of Eternity. These things weren't just distant whispers in the wind. They were here, in her world, threatening to uproot everything she had known.
"I've spent years tracking the echoes," Lyrien continued, his voice low, almost reverent. "But there's something else—something hidden. The prophecies are vague, contradictory. They say the child of prophecy will defeat Xandros, but they don't say how. They don't say what it will cost."
"What do you mean, cost?" Arinthal asked, her voice tight with curiosity and unease. "Every prophecy has a price."
Lyrien hesitated. "Not every prophecy. Some are just fates. But others… others demand everything. I don't know what Aria's fate is, but I have a sense. She will not be the same by the end of this journey."
The chill in Arinthal's veins deepened. "What does that mean?"
Lyrien's gaze hardened. "I don't know. But I've seen what happens to those who defy destiny. I've seen the lives lost, the kingdoms that fell. And Xandros—he won't wait. He's already gathering the fragments. The Echoes of Eternity are scattered across the realms, and every one he collects brings him closer to reshaping the world. Time itself is in his grasp."
Arinthal shook her head. "I still don't understand. Why would you want to find Aria? Why not just stop Xandros yourself?"
Lyrien's eyes softened, and he looked away for a moment. "I've tried. But there are forces beyond my control. And I'm not the one the prophecy speaks of. Aria is. She was born under the King's Star for a reason."
The King's Star. The image flashed in Arinthal's mind—a brilliant, blazing light that hung in the sky the night she was born, the night the prophecy was sealed. It felt like a lifetime ago, like a dream. She hadn't thought of it in years. But now… now everything felt different.
The fog parted just slightly, the moonlight breaking through, and for the first time, Arinthal realized just how far they had come from the Vale. The trees around them, twisted and gnarled, seemed to watch them, their branches reaching like skeletal arms toward the sky. The silence was oppressive, but not empty. It was the kind of silence that filled the air with whispers.
Arinthal glanced back at Lyrien, who was standing a few paces away, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. He seemed to be waiting for something.
"What are we doing now?" Arinthal asked, her voice unsure. "What's our next step?"
Lyrien turned to face her, his eyes sharper now, more resolute. "We need to find her. Aria. The path ahead won't be easy. The Echoes are scattered, and the realms are not what they seem. But we must reach her before Xandros does. We cannot afford to waste any more time."
"I'm not sure I'm ready for this," Arinthal said, shaking her head slowly. "I've been on my own for so long. I've never trusted anyone like this."
"I know," Lyrien replied quietly. "But you're not alone anymore."
---
They continued their journey through the misty forest, the fog growing heavier as they moved deeper into the unknown. Arinthal tried to shake the sense of dread that settled in her chest, but the feeling only intensified the longer they walked. There was something about the fog—something about this place—that made her feel like they were being watched.
As they walked, Lyrien spoke more of his search for the Echoes. He spoke of ancient sites, of forgotten realms, and of fragments of reality scattered across the world. Each Echo held a piece of the power to reshape time itself, and Xandros was hunting them relentlessly. But the true nature of the Echoes—what they could do, what they truly were—remained a mystery.
"Do you know what these Echoes are?" Arinthal asked, her voice low, hesitant. "Where did they come from?"
Lyrien shook his head. "I don't know. No one really does. The fragments have been hidden for centuries, and every time someone tries to uncover them, the consequences are disastrous. The only thing we know for certain is that Xandros is obsessed with them. He believes they hold the key to immortality, to rewriting history itself."
Arinthal frowned, her thoughts swirling. "That sounds like madness."
"It is," Lyrien agreed. "But that's the danger. Xandros is willing to destroy anything in his path to achieve his goal. The realms, the people—nothing matters to him except the Echoes."
A shiver ran down Arinthal's spine as she thought of the sorcerer. She had heard stories of him, of course. Who hadn't? But hearing it from Lyrien, hearing the fear in his voice, made it all too real. Xandros wasn't just a name in a legend. He was a living nightmare, one that was getting closer with every passing day.
They walked in silence for a while, the only sound the soft rustle of leaves beneath their feet. Then, as if on cue, Lyrien stopped and turned to face her.
"We need to find shelter for the night," he said. "There's a village not far from here. We can rest there and plan our next move."
Arinthal nodded, though she felt a strange unease about the idea of stopping. They were so close now, it seemed wrong to pause, but the exhaustion in her limbs was undeniable.
"Lead the way," she said, her voice steady despite the questions still swirling in her mind.
---
The village they reached was small and hidden away in the woods, its stone buildings covered in ivy, the streets empty and silent. It felt like a place forgotten by time—a place where the outside world could not reach. As they entered, Arinthal felt the weight of the silence press down on her. It wasn't just quiet. It was the kind of silence that came with secrets.
Lyrien led her through the streets, past shuttered windows and closed doors. They finally reached a small inn at the edge of the village. The lights inside flickered weakly, as if the building itself were barely clinging to life.
Lyrien knocked on the door, and a few moments later, a woman appeared. She was older, with sharp eyes that seemed to see right through Arinthal.
"You're not from around here," she said, her voice low and cautious.
"We're travelers," Lyrien replied smoothly. "We need a place to rest for the night."
The woman hesitated, then stepped aside to let them in. As they entered, Arinthal noticed the dimly lit interior. The air inside was thick, filled with the smell of burning wood and something else—something familiar, though she couldn't quite place it.
"I don't suppose you have any idea what's happening out there," the woman said, as she motioned for them to sit. "People in these parts are keeping to themselves. Strange things are happening in the woods. People have been disappearing."
Arinthal exchanged a glance with Lyrien. They both knew what that meant.
"It's the Echoes," Lyrien said quietly. "They're calling to him."
The woman's face went pale at the mention of the Echoes. She looked as though she might say more, but then stopped herself, as if she were afraid to speak further.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the woman nodded. "You're right. There's something wrong. But we've all been too afraid to leave. Too afraid of what's out there."
Lyrien glanced at Arinthal. "We can't afford to be afraid anymore."
---
As the night deepened, the tension in the room grew heavier. Lyrien and Arinthal sat at the table, the faint crackling of the fire the only sound between them.
Arinthal felt the weight of the prophecy settle on her shoulders. She was no longer just a wanderer in a world she couldn't control. She was a part of something far greater, something that had been set into motion long before her birth.
But what was the cost?
She wasn't sure she was ready to find out.
---