The Thorne crypt was too quiet after the chaos.
Not peaceful—never that—but hollow. Like a battlefield after the bodies were cleared, leaving only scorch marks and ghosts. The air still crackled with leftover magic, ozone biting at Elara's lungs every time she breathed in. Stone walls hummed faintly, ancient wards struggling to settle after being torn open and stitched back together by sheer force.
By Kaelen's force.
Elara stood where the Dark Echo had vanished, staring at the empty space as if her will alone could drag it back. Her heart hadn't slowed yet. Her pulse thudded loud in her ears, each beat whispering the same truth.
It escaped.
Kaelen was here. Solid. Breathing. Alive.
That miracle should have been enough.
But it wasn't.
"They just… slipped away," Elara said quietly, the words scraping out of her throat. "With the Dark Echo."
Saying it out loud made it worse. Final.
Kaelen's presence loomed behind her, heat and gravity and restrained fury wrapped in human skin. She didn't need to look at him to know his jaw was locked tight, that dangerous stillness settling over him—the one that meant violence was being carefully leashed.
"A calculated retreat," he said. His voice was controlled, but she heard the anger underneath, sharp and precise. "The Collective anticipated our focus would be on severing the King's hold. They used that moment."
Elara turned then, meeting his eyes. Silver-gray. Storm-heavy. Alive in a way she hadn't dared hope for hours ago.
"And now?" she asked.
His gaze darkened. "Now they still possess a conduit tied directly to the King's essence. And worse—" His eyes flicked briefly to the locket beneath her collarbone before returning to her face. "—they know you felt it."
A chill slid down her spine.
Lyra cursed under her breath as she shrugged out of the remnants of her werewolf form. Golden eyes still burned with fight, hair wild, knuckles scraped raw. "So let me get this straight. We win the battle, nearly lose Kaelen forever, crack the damn crypt open—and they walk away with the most dangerous artifact we've ever seen."
She laughed, sharp and humorless. "Fantastic. Love that for us."
Oberon, maddeningly unbothered, paced the chamber with his hands clasped behind his back. Emerald eyes glinted as they traced the scorched sigils carved into the floor, the fractured wards still flickering weakly.
"The outcome is… incomplete," he said thoughtfully. "But not without opportunity."
Kaelen's head snapped toward him. "Explain."
Oberon stopped near the center of the crypt. "That breach you tore open to return—" His gaze sharpened. "—it was not a natural crossing."
"No," Kaelen said. "It was forced."
Elara swallowed.
Oberon smiled, slow and knowing. "I thought so."
Kaelen exhaled through his nose. "It was unstable. I anchored it through the crypt's ancient wards—burned through centuries of enchantments to hold it long enough." His mouth twisted. "It nearly collapsed on me."
"But it didn't," Oberon said brightly. "Which means—"
"There's a residual thread," Lyra finished, eyes narrowing. "Isn't there?"
Oberon clapped once, delighted. "Precisely!"
Elara's hand moved instinctively to the locket beneath her shirt. The Echo Stone pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat answering another far away.
"I felt it," she said softly. "When the Dark Echo left. Not clearly—just… a pull. Like something missing that wasn't supposed to be."
Kaelen's expression changed.
Not fear. Not doubt.
Recognition.
"You sensed it when I couldn't," he said. "Your connection runs deeper than mine."
Elara forced a crooked smile. "Lucky me."
Oberon stepped closer, voice dropping into something almost reverent. "The Dark Echo resonates with the King's essence. When it fled through the breach, it left behind a signature. A trail across the veil itself."
Lyra crossed her arms. "You're saying she can track it."
"Yes," Oberon said. "Across realms."
Silence fell heavy.
Elara blinked. "So… what? I just follow the spooky magical breadcrumbs and hope I don't die?"
Lyra snorted. "You're not dying. You're just becoming our interdimensional tracking device."
Kaelen shot her a look.
"What?" Lyra shrugged. "I'm supportive."
Despite herself, Elara huffed a weak laugh. It helped. A little.
Until Kaelen spoke again.
"They will anticipate this," he said. "The Collective thrives in obscured spaces. If they know Elara can sense the Dark Echo, they will try to corrupt that connection."
Oberon nodded. "Or sever it entirely."
Elara's fingers tightened around the locket. "By damaging this?"
"Or by harming you," Oberon said gently.
The words settled like a weight on her chest.
Fear stirred—but it didn't root.
It sharpened.
I've already heard the King whisper my name. I've already stood at the edge and didn't fall.
She lifted her chin. "Then we don't wait."
Kaelen studied her, searching. "Elara—"
"If I can track it," she interrupted, voice steady despite the storm inside her, "then we go after it. Before they finish whatever ritual they're planning. Before Havenwood pays the price."
A long beat passed.
Then Kaelen nodded.
"We regroup at the shop," he said. "We inform Morwen. We reinforce the wards. And we prepare."
His gaze locked onto hers, unspoken promise blazing there.
"You will not do this alone."
As they moved through the collapsing corridors of the crypt, Elara felt it again.
That pull.
Stronger this time.
Her steps slowed.
The air shifted—cooler, humming with unfamiliar energy.
"Wait," she said suddenly, grabbing Kaelen's arm.
He stopped instantly. "What is it?"
She turned toward a side chamber they hadn't entered before. A faint light shimmered behind the cracked stone doorway—soft, silvery, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
The Echo Stone burned against her skin.
That's not the Dark Echo.
Her breath caught.
That's something else… responding to me.
Kaelen followed her gaze, expression hardening. "That chamber wasn't active before."
Oberon's eyes gleamed with dangerous curiosity. "Ah."
Lyra swore. "I hate it when you say that."
The light flared—brighter, hungrier.
And Elara felt it then.
A presence.
Waiting.
Calling her name without sound.
She took one step forward.
The locket grew ice-cold.
The chamber door began to open on its own.
And somewhere beyond the veil, something answered back.
Kaelen froze.
Not out of hesitation—out of instinct.
"That wasn't there before."
His voice dropped into that dangerous calm Elara had come to recognize. The one that meant every sense was awake, every muscle primed. He shifted in front of her without thinking, body angling just enough to shield her as his gaze locked onto the narrow side chamber.
Lyra and Oberon flanked them instantly.
Inside, the chamber was wrong.
Bones lay scattered across the floor—old, brittle, half-sunk into dust—yet the space itself felt untouched by time. The stone walls hadn't crumbled the way the rest of the crypt had. The air was cooler. Still. As if it had been sealed away from decay itself.
At the center stood a chest.
Not stone.
Not iron.
Wood.
Exquisitely carved, every inch etched with spiraling runes that shimmered faintly in ethereal green light. The glow pulsed slowly, rhythmically—like it was breathing.
Elara's skin prickled.
"Well," Oberon murmured, his lips curling into a grin despite the tension, "now this is a delightful mystery. A hidden chamber, preserved through chaos, humming with power." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "Fae-wood, if I'm not mistaken. Ancient. Rare."
Kaelen took one step forward.
The Echo Stone burned.
"Wait."
Elara's voice came out sharper than she intended. Her hand shot out, gripping Kaelen's wrist. The contact grounded her—but the unease didn't fade.
"I feel something else," she said slowly. "Not just power. Not just age." Her brow furrowed. "It's… familiar. But twisted. Like someone copied a spell and corrupted it on purpose."
The locket pulsed harder, heat flaring against her skin in warning.
Her stomach dropped.
"It's a trap," she breathed. "They left it for us."
Kaelen stopped instantly.
"They knew we'd come back," Elara continued, pulse racing now. "They knew you'd sense the residue from the breach. And they knew I wouldn't be able to ignore it."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Then Kaelen turned to her.
Not with doubt.
With something sharper.
Pride.
"Clever bastards," he muttered. His gaze flicked back to the chest, then returned to Elara, studying her like he was seeing her for the first time. "You felt it before I did."
His thumb brushed her knuckles, grounding, steady. "You're adapting fast, Elara Thorne. Faster than they expected."
Lyra growled low in her throat. "So what? We smash it and move on."
Oberon didn't answer.
He was staring at the chest now—really staring.
"That frequency," he murmured. "I know it."
Kaelen's shoulders tensed. "Oberon."
The fae prince lifted a finger absently. "This isn't just bait. This is… ingenious." His smile faded into something awed. "They laced it with temporal resonance. Old Fae magic. Forbidden, actually."
Elara's blood ran cold.
"Temporal," she echoed. "As in—"
"Time," Oberon finished softly.
The ground lurched.
Not an explosion.
Not an attack.
Reality itself buckled.
The chamber shook violently as emerald light exploded behind them. Elara spun just in time to see the entrance seal itself—stone melting into shimmering energy, twisting into a vortex of green and silver that roared like a living thing.
Lyra swore. Loudly.
"That's not your breach," she snapped at Kaelen.
"No," he said grimly. "It isn't."
The chest flared brighter.
Runes ignited, spiraling faster and faster.
Elara felt the Echo Stone scream.
This wasn't meant to kill us.
Her heart pounded.
It was meant to move us.
"Oberon!" Kaelen barked. "Can you stop it?"
Oberon's expression had gone pale. "Not without triggering it fully."
The vortex surged.
The air bent.
Time folded.
Kaelen grabbed Elara, pulling her against his chest as the chamber began to dissolve around them. Lyra braced herself, claws digging into stone that no longer felt solid. Oberon shouted something ancient and sharp—but the words were torn apart by the roar of displaced reality.
Elara clutched the locket, terror and awe crashing through her.
Where are you taking us?
The light consumed them.
And Havenwood vanished.
—
When the world snapped back into place, the silence was deafening.
The crypt was gone.
The air was wrong.
And somewhere far away—across time, across realms—the Dark Echo pulsed in answer.
Waiting.