The morning after the forest felt wrong.
Not frightening.Not dark.
Wrong in the way a too-quiet room feels wrong after someone has been screaming in it.
Ren woke slowly, his body still heavy with exhaustion, but his mind clearer than it had been in days.No dream.No whisper.No pulse beneath his ribs.
Just silence.
A normal silence.
He lay still, unsure if he should trust it.
Lyra was asleep beside his bed, sitting on the floor with her back against the wooden wall, her bow resting across her lap, her head tilted forward.A strand of her hair had fallen across her face, rising and falling with each slow breath.
Ren watched her.
She looked so peaceful it hurt.
He reached out.
Stopped halfway.
He didn't want to wake her.
But the moment he shifted the blanket, her eyes opened.
Sharp.Alert.And then soft.
"You're awake," she whispered.
"So are you," he murmured back.
She smiled.
"Ren… how do you feel?"
He took a breath.
It didn't hurt.
It didn't echo.
He exhaled slowly.
"Better."
He didn't mention the unease beneath the calm.
Lyra moved closer, kneeling at his side.
"Can you stand?"
"I think so."
She offered her hand.
He took it.
And the moment their palms touched—
A faint tremor passed through him.
Not from the echo.
From himself.
His body remembered more than his mind did.
Lyra steadied him.
"Easy. You don't have to rush."
But Ren wanted to.
He needed to convince himself he wasn't broken.
He stood.
His legs held.
Lyra's relief was immediate and visible.
"Good," she whispered."You scared me, you know."
Ren lowered his head.
"I scared myself."
She touched his cheek with two fingers.
"Don't disappear like that again."
"I wasn't—"
"You were," she said softly.
He couldn't argue.
A knock came at the door.
Borin entered without waiting for permission, already chewing on something that looked like bread but smelled like war.
"You're up."He nodded, satisfied."Good. I hate carrying kids. Too bony. Bad for the back."
Draven peeked out from behind him.
"Are we still haunted? Is the echo going to explode? Are you going to explode? AM I GOING TO EXPLODE?!"
Ren blinked.
"No explosions."
Draven collapsed in relief.
"Thank the heavens."
Borin folded his arms.
"Eat something. Then we talk."
Ren frowned.
"Talk about what?"
Borin's expression hardened.
"About what we tell the village."
Lyra straightened.
"We're not telling them everything."
"We'll have to tell them something," Borin countered.
Draven raised a trembling finger.
"I vote we lie."
Ren stepped forward.
"No."
All three looked at him.
Lyra frowned.
"Ren—"
"No lies," he said quietly."No secrets. Secrets made… everything worse."
The echo hummed faintly beneath his ribs—not calling,not pushing,
but listening.
Lyra touched his arm gently.
"Ren… you don't owe anyone the truth about the echo."
"I know."
He looked at her.
"I'm not doing it for them."
Then added:
"I'm doing it for us."
Borin nodded approvingly.
Draven nodded fearfully.
Lyra sighed.
"You're stubborn."
Ren managed a faint smile.
"You like that."
She didn't deny it.
They stepped outside together.
Morning light washed over the village—warm, soft, familiar.
Children chased each other.Smoke rose from the kitchens.Elders chatted at the well.Everything looked normal.
Completely normal.
But Ren felt the lie beneath it.
The forest had changed.He had changed.
And the world would notice soon.
Lyra nudged him lightly.
"What are you thinking?"
Ren watched the children running past.
"I don't want them to live with fear."
Lyra softened.
"You're not fear, Ren."
He hesitated.
"Some people looked at me like I am."
She shook her head.
"No. They looked scared for you. Not of you."
He turned to her.
"You weren't scared for me?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she took his hand.
"I was terrified for you."
Ren's chest tightened—not with echo, but with something human and painful and warm.
Lyra leaned closer.
"But I never feared you."
Borin cleared his throat loudly.
"Can you two flirt later? We have things to discuss."
Lyra flushed and stepped back.
Draven flopped onto a bench.
"I can't believe we survived. I should start writing goodbye letters in advance."
Borin rolled his eyes.
"Ren," the elder's voice called.
They turned.
She approached slowly, leaning on her cane.
Her gaze fell on Ren's chest, then on his eyes.
"The forest breathes easier today," she said softly."But not for long."
Ren felt the echo pulse faintly, almost agreeing.
Lyra tensed.
"Why not for long?"
The elder's expression darkened.
"Because the world has begun to move.And soon, child…the world will come looking for him."
Ren stiffened.
Borin's hand fell to his axe.
Draven fell off the bench.
Lyra stepped closer to Ren, protective.
"What do you mean?" she demanded.
The elder looked Ren full in the eyes.
"You awakened something that will not stay quiet.And now the world will want to know…what you are."
Ren swallowed hard.
The echo inside him pulsed gently—a question, not a command.
And he whispered under his breath:
"I don't know."
Lyra took his hand again.
"But we will."
And the morning—beautiful, bright, peaceful—
felt fragile.
Like a lie waiting to break.