The whispers guided them forward.
Bruno walked in silence, his fingers still cold from holding the crystal. The Echoes had been distant before, subtle murmurs clawing at the edges of his mind. But now, with every step through the ruins, they grew stronger—no longer whispers, but layered voices, overlapping, shifting, bleeding into one another.
Raine shivered beside him. "Tell me I'm not the only one hearing this."
"You're not," Silas muttered. His eyes stayed locked on the path ahead, his posture tense. "Something's leading us somewhere."
The ruins around them felt different now. More deliberate. The walls weren't just remnants of destruction—they were marked, etched with knowledge they didn't yet understand. Bruno could see the patterns now, spiraling along the shattered streets like veins, each crack in the stone feeling… placed.
His hand brushed against the nearest wall, and the whispers surged.
A flash of something not his own—a memory that wasn't his.
Stone halls, stretching endlessly. A dim blue glow illuminating carvings far older than anything that should exist. Footsteps, dozens of them, echoing. Then, a door. A massive door.
The vision faded.
Bruno's breath hitched. He turned toward the others. "I think I know where we're going."
Silas shot him a wary glance. "How?"
Bruno hesitated. He didn't have a real answer. But the crystal in his coat felt heavier now, as if it had shifted slightly against his chest.
"Just trust me," he muttered.
They followed the pull deeper into the ruins, past the shattered streets and beneath a half-collapsed archway that barely held itself together. The Echoes pulsed stronger, vibrating in their bones, growing so loud they nearly drowned out their own thoughts.
Then—they stopped.
Bruno's footsteps echoed into unnatural silence as they stepped into an empty courtyard.
Nothing stood there except a single door.
It shouldn't exist.
It was massive, towering over them, embedded into the ruins. Its surface was a dark, metallic black—not stone, not wood, but something else. Its edges pulsed faintly, almost like it was breathing.
A low hum filled the air, a presence unseen yet felt.
Raine's voice was barely above a whisper. "Why the hell is there a door just standing here?"
Bruno stepped forward. The closer he got, the heavier the air became. The temperature shifted slightly—just enough for him to notice. Not colder, not warmer. Just different.
He reached out.
"Don't touch it."
Silas's voice was sharp. Bruno glanced at him.
Silas's jaw was tight. "That's not something we open without knowing what's behind it."
Bruno hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him that this door was important. That beyond it was something they needed to see. But there was no handle, no keyhole, no obvious way to open it.
Still, something about it called to him.
"We came all this way for a reason," Bruno said, his voice steady. "We can't just—"
A voice cut through the silence.
"You shouldn't be here."
Bruno whirled around, his pulse spiking.
The man stood just a few feet away.
None of them had heard him approach.
Raine got alerted by the presence, Silas immediately shifting into a defensive stance. Bruno didn't move, but every muscle in his body coiled tight, his eyes locked onto the stranger.
The man was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a suit that looked out of place in this ruined world. His dark hair was neatly combed, but his face held a rough edge, lined with exhaustion and something harder beneath the surface.
His most distinct feature was the two swords. One strapped to his back, the other in his hand—resting at his side but not drawn. Not yet.
The man's gaze was calm, calculating. He studied them with the patience of someone who had seen too much.
"I mean no harm," he said smoothly. "But you're standing in front of something that shouldn't be touched."
Bruno narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell are you?"
The man tilted his head slightly. "I could ask you the same."
Silas didn't lower his guard. "We don't answer to strangers."
A small smirk touched the man's lips. "Fair enough." He exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly. "But I'm not your enemy. I'm like you."
Bruno frowned. "Like us?"
"A survivor," the man said simply. "An Awakened."
Raine tensed. "You remember?"
"Some of it." The man's expression didn't shift. "Not everything. Not enough. But I remember enough to know that you aren't ready for what's behind that door."
Bruno glanced at Silas and Raine. Their expressions were unreadable, but they weren't rejecting his words.
Bruno turned back to the man. "Then tell us—what is this place?"
The man exhaled, glancing at the ruins around them. "A fragment of something much older. A piece of a world that's been swallowed. And that door?" He gestured toward it. "It's not just an entrance. It's a threshold. A dimension that only allows four to enter."
Silas's eyes narrowed. "And how do you know that?"
The man tapped his temple. "Because I've been here before. Or at least… something in me has."
Bruno's stomach twisted. That was too similar to what he had felt with the crystal. That same impossible familiarity.
The man studied them for a moment, then sighed. "I won't stop you if you want to die. But if you step through that door now, you won't make it back."
A heavy silence settled between them.
Bruno clenched his jaw. The urge to know what was inside clawed at him. But the man wasn't lying—they weren't ready.
Raine crossed her arms. "So what, we just walk away?"
"For now," the man said. "You don't have the strength yet."
Bruno exhaled slowly. He didn't like it. But he knew the man was right.
"…Then we come back when we do."
The man nodded once. "Smart choice."
Bruno glanced at him. "You never told us your name."
The man was quiet for a moment.
Then, finally—"Varren."
The name settled between them, unfamiliar yet heavy with something unsaid.
Bruno didn't know if he trusted him.
But he knew one thing.
They would be back.
And next time, they wouldn't turn away.