The corridors outside the vault were chaos.
Uneven rhythms of boots struck stone, echoing along the long hall as alarm bells tolled, deep and uncertain. Servants huddled at doorways, whispering about the blast. Guards ran in tight formations, shouting orders that tangled in the air.
Elara kept her head down, arms wrapped around Alex as if he were nothing more than a frightened lamb. His wool was warm — too warm — and faintly humming under her touch. Every step she took jolted his small body against her heart, and she didn't dare stop running.
Don't look back, she told herself. Not until the noise fades.
The noise never faded completely, but she did find refuge at last in the west wing: the abandoned part of the palace no one dared touch, whose tapestries hung like cobwebs, whose windows were cracked and cold, and whose floors were mottled with dust. Here, even the guards avoided patrols.
Elara pushed open a forgotten door and slipped inside. The air was stale, but safe.
She sank onto the floor, setting Alex down gently. Her hands shook. "What did we just do?" she whispered. "By the stars… what did I do?"
Alex stirred weakly, rolling onto his belly. The glow beneath his wool pulsed once - golden veins flickering like light under water - before dimming again. He blinked up at her, dazed, and tried to bleat, but his throat burned from the magic backlash.
"Don't try to move," Elara said, brushing his face. "You're— you're hot to the touch. I think that… whatever that was, it hurt you."
I'm fine, he wanted to tell her. But all that came out was a trembling "Maa…"
She smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth trembling. "You're brave, little one."
A soft rustle came from behind them. Thistle emerged, fur smeared with dust, eyes bright and alert. She padded closer, her mind-voice sharp in Alex's thoughts.
"The guards sealed the lower hall. The captain says Kaiven's chest exploded on its own."
Good, Alex replied silently, at least they don't blame her.
"For now." Thistle's whiskers twitched. "But there's something else. The pulse didn't die when the chest shattered."
Alex looked up sharply. You mean—
"It's spreading," she said grimly. "Through the stone. Through us."
A faint vibration shivered through the floor, like a second heartbeat beneath their feet. Elara froze, glancing around the dim hall. "Did you hear that?"
Alex's gaze darted to her, his mind a rush of warning. She could feel it too.
The sound grew for a moment — a low thrum, like the palace itself exhaled. Dust fell from the beams above.
"That's not normal," Elara murmured. "Something's wrong. Come on, both of you. We're going to the garden. No one will look for us there."
She gathered Alex again, her hand brushing over his wool — and for a heartbeat, she hesitated. It didn't just feel warm anymore. It felt alive.
"Strange," she whispered, forcing herself to continue walking.
They moved through narrow service corridors lit by dying lanterns. The smell of burnt metal clung to Elara's skin. She could still hear the echo of the explosion in her head - not sound but pressure, like a storm caught behind her eyes.
Alex's own world wasn't quieter. Under his skin, something whispered. Not words at first-just fragments, sensations, and memories not belonging to him.
Cold. Feathers. Blue light.
Then a voice, smooth and distant:
"Found you."
His hooves twitched. The whisper wrapped around his thoughts, playful and patient.
"Do you think you can hide in fur and innocence? We remember our creation."
Alex clenched his mind tight, forcing the words out. Leave me alone.
The voice laughed softly, a sound of breaking glass.
"You can't unmake what you are, little echo. You were built to carry us."
The hum inside him deepened. He stumbled, his legs trembling.
"Alex?" Elara stopped. "Hey, easy— "
He collapsed in her arms, eyes flashing a sudden, unnatural blue before dimming back to gold. For a moment, the corridor around them seemed to warp — the torches flared brighter, shadows lengthening across the walls like reaching fingers.
Then it was gone.
Elara let out a shaky breath, holding him close. "You're scaring me, you know that?" she said softly. "Just… stay with me."
Alex blinked, dazed but breathing. He wanted to comfort her, to speak, but his voice - his real voice - burned behind the silence. If he spoke he'd have to explain too much.
He merely bleated softly, resting his head against her arm.
By the time they reached the gardens, the air had cooled. The smell of rain hung heavy and wet. Birds had gone quiet; only the fountains spoke, their trickles echoing faintly off marble.
Elara set Alex on the grass and slumped beside him. "I'll figure this out," she murmured. "Perhaps Father will listen if I—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "No. He won't. He'd have the vault sealed and the 'creatures' destroyed."
Alex looked up at her, reading her face in silence. There was a courage in her that frightened him sometimes — blind, determined, too much like fire. She'd walk into danger just to protect something she didn't understand.
He pawed the ground lightly, nudging her hand. She smiled faintly, mistaking the gesture for affection. "You're always listening, aren't you?"
Thistle crouched in the shadow of the hedge, his ears twitching. "He's not the only one listening."
Alex turned his head slightly. What do you mean?
"The palace stones, they whisper. Whenever the wind changes, I hear the echoes repeating his name.
Alex's pulse quickened. My name?
"Yes." Thistle's fur bristled. "Whatever that orb was — it left something inside you. A mark. A link."
He closed his eyes. I can feel it. Like a splinter under the skin.
The whisper came again, closer this time - inside his skull, sliding like oil:
"Echo, echo, echo…"
His wool rippled faintly, golden light threading through it like veins of lightning. He forced it back, digging his hooves into the dirt.
"Hey." Elara frowned, reaching for him. "You're shaking again."
He looked up, eyes wide and shimmering. She saw the glow but dismissed it as reflection. "We'll get you some rest," she said gently, standing. "Maybe it's just… nerves."
She turned away, and the whisper sank deeper into his mind.
"Nerves," it echoed mockingly. "No, not nerves. Nerves are human.
Alex stiffened. The garden felt smaller, the shadows longer.
"You're something older. A voice we once lost. A vessel built to remember."
I am not yours.
"Not yet."
The last words slithered into silence. The air still settled once more — but the damage was done. Deep inside, the glow beneath his wool no longer pulsed with his heartbeat. It pulsed with theirs.
Thistle watched him carefully. "You're changing," she whispered in his mind. He didn't answer. She knelt beside him, stroking his head, oblivious to the tempest brewing behind those golden eyes. "Sleep, little one," she murmured. "Tomorrow, it shall all make more sense to you." But Alex knew tomorrow would bring only more questions. He curled up beside her as the first drops of rain began to fall. Each hit the grass with a faint shimmer of blue light — a reflection of the magic still clinging to him. Far below, deep beneath the palace stones, something ancient stirred in response — faint but growing. The echo had found its host. And it was awake.