Chapter 5: Echoes in the Mist

The sun never reached this part of the forest.

Even as morning came, light only filtered through the mist in cold strands, like reluctant threads. The silence was deeper today—so quiet that even Kael seemed more alert, hand never straying far from his blade.

They’d broken camp early. Kael said the Hollowed rarely traveled alone. Aeryn didn’t want to know what their friends looked like.

The mist thickened as they walked. Aeryn kept one eye on the strange symbol burned into his palm after last night—the faint sigil that now pulsed whenever the mist deepened. It didn’t hurt, but it tingled, like something old was reaching for him.

“Is it supposed to do that?” he asked Kael.

Kael glanced back. “The mark?”

Aeryn nodded.

Kael hesitated. “It means it recognizes something ahead. Or someone.”

“That’s... vague.”

“I didn’t say it was helpful.”

They rounded a bend in the broken path—and stopped.

Someone stood in the middle of the trail.

Not Hollowed.

A man, tall and draped in silver-gray robes that shimmered faintly in the mist. His hair was long and ash-white, tied back with woven strands of leather and bone. He had skin like polished copper and eyes that glowed faint gold beneath his hood.

But it was his smile that struck Aeryn most.

It was... familiar.

“Didn’t think I’d find you again so soon,” the man said, voice rich and strange.

Kael stepped in front of Aeryn instantly. “Stay back.”

The man raised his hands. “I come in peace, Warden.”

Kael’s grip on his sword tightened. “Only a handful still call me that. Most of them are dead.”

“Most,” the stranger echoed with a grin. “But not all.”

Aeryn stepped around Kael carefully. “Who are you?”

The man’s golden gaze settled on him, and something flared behind it—affection? Memory?

“I am Lysan,” he said with a small bow. “Archivist of the Forgotten Flame. And once... your closest friend.”

Aeryn blinked. “We knew each other?”

“In your last life,” Lysan said softly. “Before the war consumed everything.”

Kael made a low sound. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Lysan ignored him.

“I’ve followed the signs for days,” he told Aeryn. “The echoes of your soul returning rippled through the Veil. It drew the Hollowed. It drew me too.”

“You knew I’d come back?”

“I hoped,” Lysan said. “The world always needs its savior reborn.”

Aeryn laughed bitterly. “I’m no savior. I didn’t even know how to hold a sword until yesterday.”

“But you remembered the Light,” Lysan said. “That’s no accident. You’ve always been the Key.”

“The key to what?” Aeryn asked.

Lysan hesitated—just long enough to notice.

“To balance,” he said finally. “Or destruction. Depending on the path you choose.”

Kael stepped closer. “Enough riddles. What do you want?”

Lysan’s expression flickered.

Then, he looked at Aeryn with quiet intensity. “To warn him. He’s not the only soul returned.”

The mist thickened again—this time unnaturally.

“Another...?” Aeryn asked.

But Lysan’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not alone.”

---

Without warning, the ground trembled.

A sharp pulse cracked through the silence—then another.

From the treeline, a large figure burst through, hurling aside branches like paper.

It wasn’t Hollowed.

It was armored in rust-red plates, with a face hidden behind a carved wooden mask. Glowing runes spiraled across its arms, and a pair of long, cruel blades extended from gauntlets at its wrists.

“A bounty hunter,” Kael hissed. “Veilforged.”

Lysan stepped back, drawing a curved dagger from his robe. “He’s here for the Reborn.”

The bounty hunter said nothing. But his mask turned toward Aeryn—and the air shivered around him.

Then he charged.

Kael intercepted, sword meeting metal with a shower of sparks.

Aeryn backed up as the ground cracked beneath their clash.

Kael moved like water—smooth, brutal—but the bounty hunter wasn’t like the Hollowed. He anticipated. He learned. After two exchanges, he nearly slipped past Kael’s guard.

Then Lysan joined, his curved dagger dancing with bright green sparks. His movements were elegant, more evasive than offensive. He drew the hunter’s attention just long enough for Kael to land a clean blow to the ribs.

But it wasn’t enough.

The hunter drove Kael back with a blast of raw energy from his gauntlet.

And then Aeryn felt it.

That familiar tug.

Like the world folding.

Time slowed.

The mark on his palm glowed again—hotter now, brighter.

And memories flooded in.

Not just images—feelings. A sword in his hands. Blood on stone. Kael’s face beneath a burning sky. Screams. A name. His name.

“Aris.”

That was his name before.

His real name.

Aeryn stepped forward. The light in his hand twisted upward into a spiral.

The bounty hunter turned—and the moment their eyes locked, something passed between them. Recognition?

No.

Hatred.

Aeryn raised his arm—and a shockwave of light burst forth, striking the bounty hunter square in the chest.

He flew backward into a tree, armor cracking, mask splintering.

Kael didn’t hesitate. He charged forward and drove his sword through the weakened chestplate.

The hunter spasmed once—and collapsed.

Silence returned.

---

Aeryn sank to his knees, breathing hard.

Kael was at his side in seconds. “You alright?”

“I… remembered something.”

Kael held his gaze.

“I was called Aris,” Aeryn said slowly. “And you… you died in my arms. During the last war.”

Kael’s breath hitched. “You remember that?”

“I remember you bleeding,” Aeryn said, voice breaking. “And me screaming.”

Kael’s expression twisted with pain. “I wanted to protect you. I failed.”

“No,” Aeryn whispered. “I failed.”

There was a long pause—then Aeryn reached for his hand.

Kael didn’t pull away.

---

Lysan watched them from a distance, eyes shadowed with something unreadable.

Finally, he spoke. “You’ve barely begun to awaken, Aris. There’s more buried in you than even you know.”

“I figured,” Aeryn said. “People don’t send magic bounty hunters after nobodies.”

Lysan nodded. “He was hired by a group called the Covenant of Hollow Thrones. They fear your return.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Lysan said. “They want to hollow you. Just like the others.”

Aeryn stood slowly. “Then we need to get stronger. Fast.”

Kael gave him a proud look. “You sound like the man I remember.”

Aeryn turned toward the trail ahead.

“I don’t know who I used to be. But I’ll become someone who can end this.”

Kael stepped beside him. “Not alone.”

Lysan followed a moment later. “Then let’s move. They won’t stop hunting you.”

---

That night, their camp was quieter. The fire danced low. Kael sat beside Aeryn as the others rested.

“I remembered the first time I met you,” Aeryn said softly.

Kael looked over, eyes unreadable.

“You were training with the Wardens. I walked into the courtyard wearing stolen armor. You thought I was a recruit.”

Kael laughed. “And you insulted every single one of us before realizing you were in the wrong tower.”

“You still chased me three floors before I could escape.”

Kael smiled. “You were insufferable.”

“You loved it,” Aeryn said, grinning.

“I did.”

A moment passed.

Then Kael leaned closer. “I still do.”

And just like that, the warmth between them deepened—gentle, real.

Not a memory.

A beginning.

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