The plains south of the ruins were gray and endless, dusted with the ash of old
wars. They walked for hours in silence, the wind hissing through broken pillars
that once marked the border of a Shaper city. Each gust carried faint echoes —
whispers of machinery that no longer existed, memories ground into dust.
Tibbin broke the silence first.
"So," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "just to recap: we went
underground, fought a giant snake made of metal, met a glowing ghost who
knew your name, and now we're being followed by shadows."
Gizmo didn't look back. "Accurate summary."
"Do we get hazard pay?"
"No."
"Figures."
Kaelira, walking ahead, paused suddenly. "Quiet."
The wind had changed — it now carried something heavier, like breath. From
the horizon came a slow, dragging sound. The ground beneath them trembled.
"What now?" Tibbin whispered.
The Orb flared, its light shifting to a deep, anxious blue. Gizmo squinted into
the fog ahead. At first, he thought the shape approaching was a man. Then it
moved wrong — too fluid, too quiet, too wrong.
The creature emerged from the haze: tall, cloaked in strands of glimmering
crystal, its face cracked and flickering with pale light. In its chest burned a
shard of glowing azure. When it spoke, its voice was dozens layered atop one
another.
"Maker."
Kaelira drew her runic blade in a single motion. "Wight."
Tibbin groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."
The Shard-Wight lunged.
Kaelira met it with steel, her blade sparking as it struck the creature's
crystalline arm. It shrieked, a sound that shattered the nearby stones. Tibbin
fired bolts that shattered into dust against its body. Gizmo grabbed a handful of
grenades from his belt — small, rune-charged — and hurled them forward.
The explosions burst into blue light, slowing the creature for a moment. The
Orb hovered beside him, projecting weak readings: energy surges, memory
echoes, raw entropy.
"Where's its core?" Gizmo yelled.
"In its chest!" Kaelira shouted, deflecting a swipe that cracked the earth. "But
it's feeding on magic — mine, yours, everything!"
"Then we cut the cord."
He sprinted toward the thing, dodging shards of crystal that burst from its
limbs. The Orb flared, forming a faint energy shield around his arm. Kaelira
moved with him, blades of light and logic cutting through the creature's
attacks.
Tibbin loaded an explosive bolt, aiming for the pulsing shard. "Move!"
They dove aside as the bolt struck true. The explosion rippled through the
Wight's body, scattering light and smoke. It staggered back, letting out a
piercing wail that wasn't pain but memory — a thousand voices crying at
once.
Then the light began to collapse inward. Gizmo watched as the shard's glow flickered, revealing a glimpse of what lay beneath — faces, dozens of them,
frozen mid-expression, their features half-human, half-machine.
"Thalos's work," Kaelira whispered.
"No," Gizmo said quietly. "His punishment."
The creature shuddered once more, then dissolved into dust.
When the silence returned, none of them spoke for a long while. The wind
howled across the ruins, scattering the Wight's remains. The Orb floated closer
to the empty space, pulsing faintly.
"What are they?" Tibbin asked softly.
Gizmo knelt, scooping a handful of glittering fragments into a pouch. "Echoes
gone wrong. They tried to keep themselves alive inside the forges. But the
forges… remembered too much."
Kaelira stared into the distance. "If Thalos built this world's memory, maybe
the Vault holds its guilt."
He nodded. "Then we'll find it."
That night, they camped inside the ruins of an old basilica — its windows
shattered, its floor littered with the remains of statues too weathered to
recognize. The stars bled through the roof in thin silver threads. Gizmo sat
apart from the others, tinkering with a fragment from the Wight. It glowed
faintly in his hands.
Kaelira approached quietly. "You should rest."
"Can't," he said. "This thing's still humming. It's got a rhythm — slow, like a
heartbeat."
She sat beside him. "You keep talking about rhythms. About songs. You think
the world has one?"
"I know it does," Gizmo said, looking at the Orb. "We've just forgotten the
melody."
She smiled faintly. "Then maybe you're here to remind it."
He glanced at her, a ghost of a grin forming. "Maybe."
Tibbin joined them, his usual smirk softened by fatigue. "In case anyone's
wondering, I vote we avoid haunted forges for at least a week."
"Noted," Gizmo said. "We'll find a regular haunted ruin instead."
Tibbin groaned. "I walked into that."
Kaelira chuckled. For the first time, it sounded real.
When the camp quieted, Gizmo sat alone with the Orb. It floated above his
glove, the faint blue glow flickering softly.
"Echo," he whispered. "If you're still in there… what am I supposed to
remember?"
The Orb pulsed once — faint, uncertain — then dimmed.
(End of Chapter Ten)