The walk through the forest was quiet—too quiet. Aria could hear the distant rustle of leaves and the crunch of their footsteps, but no birdsong, no wind. The silence made the hairs on her neck stand on end. She followed closely behind Lysander and Elara, her fingers curled protectively around the moonstone pendant at her neck.
It pulsed faintly—like a heartbeat not her own.
"Where are we going?" she finally asked.
"To the Lunar Nexus," Lysander replied without turning. "It's where your path truly begins."
Aria didn't like the sound of that. The weight of the moment settled on her shoulders, heavier than before. Each step toward the Nexus felt like a step deeper into a world she hadn't asked to be reborn into.
---
They entered a clearing surrounded by tall, silverwood trees. In the center stood an ancient stone altar, covered in glowing runes that curled and spiraled like moonlight frozen in motion. The air shimmered faintly, filled with invisible energy that made Aria's skin prickle.
"This place..." she whispered. "It feels… alive."
"It is," Elara said softly. "The Nexus is a conduit. It remembers every soul who's ever touched it. Including yours."
Lysander stepped aside and gestured toward the stone. "Place your hands on it. Let the Nexus read you."
Aria hesitated. "What if it rejects me?"
"Then you were never truly chosen," he said simply.
Aria swallowed her fear and stepped forward. Her fingers hovered over the stone for a moment—then made contact.
---
A surge of cold, then heat.
Her breath caught as light exploded behind her eyes. She was no longer in the clearing.
She stood on a battlefield beneath a blood-red moon. Fires burned in the distance. Screams echoed from all directions. And there—at the center of it all—stood a woman.
White-haired. Clad in silver and shadows. Her hands raised in defiance against a horde of dark figures.
Aria's heart seized.
It was her.
She saw the final moments of the woman's stand—her magic flaring bright like the moon itself before being consumed by darkness.
A voice echoed across the vision:
"To be reborn… is to remember."
---
With a gasp, Aria was ripped back into her body. The altar exploded with light, and a force threw her backward.
She landed hard on the ground, wind knocked from her lungs.
Elara rushed to her side. "Aria!"
"I… saw her," Aria said, voice shaking. "She looked like me—but she died. She sacrificed herself."
Lysander's expression grew grim. "You've seen the Remnant."
Aria struggled to sit up. "The Remnant…?"
Lysander exchanged a glance with Elara, who nodded reluctantly.
"You are her echo," Elara said. "Her soul reborn. We didn't expect your memories to return this quickly."
Aria blinked rapidly, struggling to keep up. "Then that battle… was real?"
"It was the fall of the Moon Line," Lysander said. "The last great stand against the Shadowborn."
The moment he said it, Aria's pulse spiked.
Them again.
Before she could respond, a loud horn blasted through the forest. The birds that had dared to return moments ago scattered into the sky.
Seconds later, a scout sprinted into the clearing, breath ragged. "Master Lysander! The Shadowborn—they've crossed the river. Two hours north."
Lysander's face turned to stone. "They never give us time…"
---
Back at the sanctum, adepts hurried through the halls, preparing wards, stacking supplies, whispering war spells under their breath.
Aria sat alone in the chamber they had given her, staring at her hands. The runes were still glowing faintly. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
Elara entered quietly. "You did well."
"I barely touched it," Aria said. "And it nearly broke me."
"That's because your soul already remembers," Elara replied. "Most don't awaken that fast."
Aria looked up. "You said I'm her echo. Does that mean I'm fated to die the same way?"
"No," Elara said quickly. "You can choose a new path. But echoes… they always attract the same storms."
Aria's stomach twisted at those words.
---
That night, unable to sleep, she sat by the open window. Stars shimmered above the treetops, and the moon hovered low and heavy, watching.
Somewhere in the woods, wolves howled.
As Aria closed her eyes, she heard something faint—voices. Not outside. Below her window, down the hall.
She crept toward the door, pressing her ear against it.
Two voices. One sharp, one low and tired.
"She isn't ready," one said. "You've seen how unstable her magic is."
"She doesn't have time," the other replied. "The Shadowborn are coming. If she fails, it won't be just her who dies."
The voices faded.
Aria's breath caught.
They didn't trust her.
They feared her.
And maybe… they were right.
But that didn't matter. She would prove herself.
Even if it meant unearthing every secret this place tried to hide.