The girl—her name was Lira—slept soundly for the first time in days.
They had taken her to an abandoned safehouse deep in the underlevels of the city, beneath the eyes of the Enforcers and away from Aether scanners. Caleb sat nearby, watching the steady rhythm of her breathing, the way flickers of flame still danced faintly across her skin even in rest.
Jarek leaned against the doorway. "We'll have to move her soon. Before someone else senses her energy signature."
"You mean the Wardens?"
Jarek shook his head. "Worse."
Before Caleb could respond, a ripple passed through the air. Not physical—but something deeper. Like the Aether itself had gone cold for a moment.
Then the lights flickered.
Jarek straightened. "They found us."
"Who?" Caleb asked, standing.
Jarek's eyes hardened. "The Black Sigil."
The name meant nothing to Caleb—until it did.
They didn't knock.
The front wall of the safehouse imploded inward, shredded by invisible force. In the dust and chaos, three figures stepped into view, cloaked in sleek armor traced with red runes. Their faces were hidden behind mirrored masks shaped like snarling wolves.
The one in the center spoke with a voice like silk dipped in venom. "New Aether activity. Echo signature. Unmarked child. Very messy."
Jarek moved between them and Lira in a blink. "You're not taking her."
The masked figure tilted its head. "I'm not here for her."
His gaze shifted—straight to Caleb.
"You're the one the old prophecies warned about. The resonant anomaly."
Caleb's pulse spiked. "The what now?"
"An Echo whose core reacts to the world around it. You'll cause disruption. Collapse. Rebirth. We can't allow that."
Another of the masked assassins raised a hand.
Before Caleb could react, Jarek was already in motion, intercepting the blast with a wall of Umbra energy. The explosion rocked the room, flames bursting from the floor. Lira screamed in the back, huddled behind a counter.
Caleb lunged forward, his hand crackling with Aether energy. "You want me? Come get me."
He thrust his hand forward, unleashing a raw blast of Echo Aether. The air shimmered—and the masked assassin was thrown through the wall.
But the leader didn't flinch. He moved faster than Caleb could track, appearing behind him in a blink.
A dagger kissed his throat—then stopped.
Jarek had his blade at the assassin's side. A deadlock.
"You think you're ready for this, boy?" the masked figure whispered. "You've barely woken. You're a ripple in a storm. And soon… the Eye will open."
With a pulse of force, he vanished—along with his allies. No trace. No exit.
Just a black sigil left burning into the floor: a mark shaped like an eye, split down the middle.
Later, Caleb sat outside, his breathing uneven.
"What the hell was that?" he asked.
Jarek stared at the sigil. "That was your first real warning."
"They knew me. They knew about me."
"They've been watching. The Black Sigil doesn't show up for just anyone. They're elite Aether enforcers—rogue agents. Cultists. Assassins. They believe the Aether should be controlled… and anyone who can break that control is a threat."
"So I'm their threat."
"No," Jarek said. "You're their enemy."
Caleb clenched his fists. The Aether inside him pulsed harder now—not wild, but not calm either.
Something was changing.
And soon, the world would too.