Echo stared at the object in his hands, the cold metal humming with dormant power. Now that the rust had fallen away, it looked... elegant. Sleek. Deadly. A weapon? A key? A wand with no flair?
"It's like a USB stick for gods," he muttered, turning it over. "Or a sleek brick someone enchanted by accident."
He should've laughed, but something stirred again.
A whisper, clearer than before—no longer just a voice, but a presence curling around his thoughts like a breeze teasing the edge of a curtain.
"You're close now. Just a little further."
Echo's breath hitched. His eyes shot up—and there it was.
A stone archway had begun to open on the far side of the cavern, previously hidden by the curvature of the wall and the angle of the shadows. It groaned as if waking from a thousand years of sleep, stone sliding against stone, revealing a narrow hallway beyond.
Echo's instincts told him one thing: Go.
He stepped through.
The hallway was tight but not suffocating, carved with the precision of something older than language. As he walked, ancient runes flickered to life along the walls, bathing the path in soft amber light. The air smelled faintly of pine and old parchment.
"Alright," he muttered, "we're in full-blown prophecy territory now."
His boots echoed softly as he walked—stone, stone, stone, until it opened up again.
He stopped dead.
Before him lay a hidden pond in the heart of the mountain, cradled in a cave that looked untouched by time. The water was clear and still, reflecting crystal stalactites that hung like frozen fangs from the ceiling above. Soft moss grew at the edges, glowing faintly. And in the center—resting on a bed of lush, vibrant green grass—was a cloud.
Not mist. Not fog.
A real, physical cloud, resting like a sleeping beast curled in slumber.
He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Blinked again.
"Nope. Still a cloud."
Smooth stones jutted out of the pond in a trail, like stepping-stones inviting him forward.
Echo hesitated for half a second. Then he leapt.
One stone. Two. Three. Nearly slipped on the fourth. "Alright, one of us needs grippier shoes," he mumbled.
At the last stone, he crouched and reached out. His fingers brushed the cloud's edge.
JOLT.
His body stiffened.
And suddenly—he wasn't in the cave anymore. He wasn't anywhere. Just weightless thought drifting in an endless expanse of glowing white.
Then he heard it.
Not a whisper. Not words. A feeling—then words that bloomed in his mind.
"You found me."
The voice was... old. Gentle. Neither male nor female. Both ancient and newborn.
"I have been sleeping... for a long, long time. I don't know how long it's been. But I was waiting. For you."
Echo tried to respond, but he wasn't sure if he still had a mouth. Or lungs. Or even a body.
But the cloud heard him.
"Why me?"
"Because you heard me when no one else did."
The presence faded.
And Echo opened his eyes.
He was lying atop the cloud. Its surface was soft, but stable—like lying on a dream solidified into matter. He sat up slowly, looked around.
"Okay... that happened. I think."
He cleared his throat. "So... you talk, or what?"
No response.
Echo squinted. "Alright, the silent treatment. Cool. Real mature."
Then it clicked.
"It was all in my head. Psychic communication."
The cloud said nothing, but something about its stillness felt... amused.
He stretched out on it, staring up at the cave ceiling. "Well, you need a name."
He grinned.
"I'm gonna call you... Aeris. You get it!! Cuz it sounds like Air"
"No ?"
A pause.
"Alright"
He pointed upward. "Let's go home."
And without a sound, the cloud rose—gliding gently upward, toward a shaft of pale light above that now shone like a beacon.
The air grew warmer as they ascended, snow flurries parting like curtains.
When they emerged above the mountain, the sun was already rising, painting the sky in molten gold. The wind kissed his face, and the world stretched out below in glittering silence.
Echo Pendragon flew home.
And the cloud carried him as if it always had—just waiting for him to notice