Lee Hwan woke before sunrise, high on the ridge above the Vale of Whispers. A pale glow hovered on the horizon, hinting at dawn. He sat on a smooth rock and pulled the small pouch of dawn petals from his pack. The silver petals glowed faintly in his palm. He pressed them to his chest emblem. Warmth spread through his chest, steady and calm.
He breathed in the sharp air. The wind sighed around him. He looked down at the vale he had just left. The grasses lay silent in the first light. No more whispers drifted up. Hwan rolled his shoulders, feeling the ache of the climb he had made the night before. He stood and slung his dagger at his hip. He pulled up his hood against the cold.
He looked east, where pale pink light spilled onto snow-capped peaks. The map in his pack had marked a path through a narrow pass and up a broken staircase carved into rock. He knew the trial waited at the summit. He set off down the ridge, placing one foot carefully before the other. Each step was sure and slow.
The path dropped into a shallow gully. Frost clung to the stones. Hwan reached into his pack for a few dawn petals. He crushed one between his fingers. The glow brightened enough to light the way. He sprinkled a few more on the ground. The petals warmed the ground as he walked, melting thin layers of frost. He felt safe following their glow.
Soon he came to a stand of twisted pines. Their trunks leaned out over the drop below, roots gripping the cliff face. Silver needles carpeted the ground. The wind carried the scent of pine and cold stone. Hwan kept to the map's line, stepping over gnarled roots and tight branches.
He paused when the dawn petals flickered softly. Then they wilted to gray. He had used his last few petals. He checked his pack. The pouch was empty. He folded it neatly and put it away. He would find Miri's gift again later, but for now he had to move by memory alone.
He climbed through the pines to a narrow ledge. The drop on his left was steep. Far below, the valley floor glowed with early light. He gripped the rock wall with one hand and edged along the ledge. His dagger rested against his thigh. Each footfall rang hollow on the stone.
At the end of the ledge he found the mouth of a dark tunnel. The air was warmer inside. He stepped through. The tunnel curved down into the mountain. Stalactites dripped water onto smooth stones. He lit no flame. His eyes adjusted. The path turned back upward. He climbed, feeling solid earth beneath his boots.
After several turns, the tunnel opened into a wide chamber. Light filtered in through a gap overhead. In the center stood a ring of standing stones. They rose like silent sentinels. Each was carved with shallow runes that caught the first rays of dawn. In the middle lay a flat stone altar, half-buried in moss.
Hwan entered the circle. The air here felt still, charged. He walked around the standing stones, noticing each rune was different. One showed an open mouth, another a beating heart, another an eye tearing. Each rune pulsed with a faint silver light. He stopped before the altar.
He set his dagger on the altar's surface and withdrew the map. He unrolled it. The paper brimmed with runic ink that shone a pale green. A new marking hovered at the center of the summit. Above it, the words "Summit of Echoes" appeared in soft script. He traced the route leading beyond the chamber. It climbed steep stone steps into the light.
He rolled up the map and placed it back in his pack. He picked up his dagger and stepped toward the nearest stone step. The air grew colder, sharper. He felt the emptiness that lay above the earth.
He climbed the smooth stones, counting each step. The silence weighed on him. His breath came in steady puffs. The sky overhead showed only a strip of pale blue. He kept his gaze forward, feeling his heart echo in his chest.
At the top of the steps, he emerged onto a broad plateau. Snow lay in drifts. Wind blew snowflakes against his face. He shielded his eyes. Ahead rose a tall monolith of dark rock. It looked like a giant ear carved into the mountain. At its base lay a slit, just wide enough to pass through.
Hwan walked across the plateau. He came to the slit in the monolith. He placed one hand on the cold stone. The wind stilled for a moment. He felt a pulse from the rock, like a heartbeat. He pressed his chest emblem. It glowed briefly, matching the slow pulse beneath his palm.
He slipped through the slit. Inside was a curved chamber. The walls were smooth and black. They caught no light. The only glow came from Hwan's emblem and the runes on his dagger. He knelt and set both on the ground. The floor felt like polished glass under his knees.
He closed his eyes. He heard nothing but the wind moaning outside. He remembered his master's words: "Your own voice is the key." He took a deep breath and spoke his name softly: "Lee Hwan."
His voice echoed around the chamber. Each echo roared back at him, growing louder. He opened his eyes. The monolith had filled with glowing lines, as if thousands of runes had sprung to life. They glowed bright silver, pulsing with each echo of his voice.
He stood and picked up his dagger. He held it by his side and spoke again, louder: "I am Hwan. I speak my truth." His voice rang out. The runes on the monolith flared. The echoes multiplied, twisting around him like ribbons of light.
Hwan felt a tug at his mind. The echoes formed words he did not speak. They whispered of his past: his mother's gentle voice, his father's firm hand, his own failure on the bridge, the promise he made to Yura. The chamber seemed to fill with ghosts of his memories.
He staggered back, but the echoes pulled him forward. He raised his dagger and called out: "I accept my memories! I own my scars! I move forward with truth!" The echoes crashed against the walls. The runes blazed. Light flooded the chamber, blinding him.
The world went silent in a flash of silver light. When Hwan opened his eyes, the monolith had cracked in two. The chamber beyond revealed a narrow passage lit by golden sunlight. The runes on his dagger shone a steady blue. His chest emblem glowed warm.
He stepped through the crack and found himself on a high ledge. Below him stretched a sea of clouds. The sun had risen fully now, painting the sky in orange and pink. Hwan stood on the edge, looking out at the world below.
He felt a deep calm. He raised his dagger to the sky. The runes on the blade glowed. He heard the SYSTEM's voice quietly in his mind: "Trial Three complete. Echo Sigil unlocked. New power: Echo Recall. Cooldown: two hours. Proceed to Elysion Gates."
Hwan lowered his dagger and pressed his chest. The emblem pulsed. He tasted the salt of tears in his eyes—not in sorrow, but in relief. He had faced his truth and moved beyond doubt.
He turned and followed a worn path along the ledge. The ground sloped downward toward a series of stone arches carved into the rock. Each arch showed a different scene: swirling wind, roaring fire, rolling water, and steadfast earth. They seemed to mark the elements that had tested him so far.
Hwan passed beneath the first arch, the wind roaring past his ears. He felt no fear. He moved on to the next, where images of flame danced. The heat was real, but he felt only steady resolve. He passed the arch of water and drenched himself in a cold spray, then moved on to the final arch of stone pillars. The ground shook slightly, reminding him of endurance.
At the end of the arches, a wide plateau opened into a field of flowers. Their petals shimmered in gold and red. Here stood a final stone gate carved with the symbol of the Ember Academy: a bird rising from flame. A heavy wooden door lay between the pillars. The emblem on Hwan's chest glowed orange to match.
He approached the door and pressed his hand against the symbol. It warmed to his touch. The door creaked open, revealing a cobblestone road leading down the mountain. He saw distant spires of white stone on the horizon—Elysion Academy.
Hwan stepped through the door. The wind shifted behind him. The stone gate closed silently. He heard no echoes now, only his own breath and the drum of his heart.
He walked down the road, each step carrying him closer to the gates of the academy. The Trial of Echoes had shown him his own voice. He now held the Echo Sigil and the power to recall his truth.
Before him rose tall walls of ivory stone. Turrets caught the morning sun. Banners fluttered, each marked with different runes of the academy. Students in cloaks moved through the gates, talking and laughing.
Hwan paused at the base of the steps. He drew a steady breath and reached into his pack. He pulled out the Bound Memory map and the pouch of dawn petals. The pouch was empty now, but the map's lines glowed bright. He placed both back in his pack.
He touched his chest emblem. The runes on it pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He felt the Echo Sigil warm at his side. His dagger felt like an old friend in his belt.
He climbed the steps and entered through the great doors. Inside, a vast hall stretched before him. Tall windows let in white light. Marble floors gleamed. On the far side sat a reception desk, behind which a stern woman in layered robes studied a ledger.
Hwan approached the desk. He drew in a breath.
He said clearly, "I am Lee Hwan. I have completed the trials and claim my place at Elysion Academy."
The woman looked up. Her eyes were sharp but curious. She studied his emblem and dagger. Then she smiled once.
"Welcome, Apprentice Riftwalker. Please sign here." She slid a scroll across the desk.
Hwan took a quill and signed his name.
She handed him a small crystal badge etched with runes. "This grants you access to all public halls. Your training begins at dawn tomorrow."
Hwan bowed and clipped the badge to his cloak. He turned to leave the hall. Before he reached the doors, the woman called, "Apprentice Hwan, remember: your truth is your power, but also your burden. Guard it well."
Hwan nodded. He stepped through the doors and out into a sunlit courtyard. Students milled around, heading to classes. The fountain in the center played a gentle melody of falling water. Hwan felt the courtyard's warmth on his face.
He found a bench beneath a flowering tree. He sat and looked at the badge in his hand. He thought of the trials he had faced: the otter in the bioluminescent jungle, the Vale of Whispers, and the Summit of Echoes. Each step had tested his fear, his doubt, and his memory.
He closed his eyes and felt calm. He pressed the badge to his chest. It glowed softly, matching his emblem. He felt a gentle presence in his mind: the SYSTEM's quiet approval.
Tomorrow, he would begin a new chapter of training. For now, he allowed himself a moment of rest. He took a deep breath of the warm courtyard air. He opened his pack and withdrew a water skin. He drank and felt the cold liquid warm in his belly.
He folded his hands on his lap and looked around. Students passed by, some carrying books, others laughing with friends. None paid him attention. He was one among many now—a new apprentice at Elysion.
But inside, he carried his own history and his own future. He had claimed the Echo Sigil and the gift of Bound Memory. He had faced his truth and shaped it into power. He had begun his path as a Riftwalker.
He stood and slipped the water skin back into his pack. He sheathed his dagger and adjusted his cloak. Then he walked toward the east wing, where the notice board displayed class schedules and room assignments.
He found his name under "Introduction to Echo Magic." The class started at dawn. He made a note of the room number and time. He felt anticipation, not fear. He was ready.
As he left the courtyard, the sun rose higher in the sky. Light spilled across the academy's towers. Hwan felt warmth on his face. He whispered to himself, "I will write my own echo." And with that promise, he walked down the corridor toward his future.
Chapter 4 ends.