The next morning was far too quiet.
Caleb hadn't slept at all. Every time he closed his eyes, the glowing glyph beneath his skin flickered to life. Each pulse carried with it a faint whisper—an echo of something ancient, something waiting.
He couldn't shake the vision from his mind—the Aether Heart, surrounded by the Spiral, chanting in unison. He still felt the chill of Kael's presence, like a shadow that stretched out, reaching for him. The strange mixture of fire and ice—of his own Aether surging out of control—left him restless, uneasy.
He needed answers.
And that meant going deeper.
"Jarek," Caleb said, his voice hard with resolve. "We need to find the Spiral."
Jarek looked up from his map, eyebrows raised. "And how exactly do you propose we do that? They don't exactly leave breadcrumbs behind."
"I have a way," Caleb muttered, rubbing his wrist. The glyph had become a part of him now, a constant pulse beneath his skin. He could feel the Aether—powerful and chaotic—coursing through it.
Jarek's eyes narrowed, understanding the gravity in Caleb's tone. "You're thinking of using the glyph, aren't you?"
Caleb nodded. "I need to know what they want from me. If they're going to pull me into whatever their plans are, I need to be prepared."
"Caleb, you don't know what they're capable of," Jarek warned. "The Spiral doesn't just talk to people. They shape them. They bind them to their cause."
"I'm not going to let them shape me." Caleb's voice was steely. "I'll control it. I'll control them."
That afternoon, Caleb ventured into the outskirts of the city. Far enough away from prying eyes, but close enough to the remains of the forgotten ruins that lay scattered across the land—places that the Spiral were said to frequent.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the cracked stone and overgrown vegetation. Caleb reached out, brushing his hand against the ancient wall of a crumbled building. His mind was sharp, his senses alert. The glyph on his wrist pulsed once, twice—like a heartbeat.
It was as if the world itself were responding to him.
He closed his eyes, reaching for the Aether inside, trying to focus the raw energy that flowed through him. He had no clear idea what he was doing, but he was determined. Every time the glyph glowed, it pulled at him, like it was beckoning him forward.
Caleb's heart raced as the Aether began to hum, and the air around him shimmered with power. His mind expanded, reaching out, as if to call the Spiral, or at least summon their attention.
A voice—soft, distant—echoed in his mind.
"The Echo calls. But can it truly hear?"
Caleb froze. The voice—was it real? Was it in his mind? He could feel the Aether around him shift, grow heavier.
He opened his eyes.
And there, standing just beyond the ruined stone, was Serah.
Her presence was suffocating, yet serene. The robed figure stood still, as if the very air parted for her. The fire-like patterns on her robe flickered and danced in the dim light, as if alive. Her mask, still the same wooden construct, was fixed in place, its hollow eyes glowing faintly.
"You've called, Echo," Serah said, her voice carrying like a whisper through the wind. "You've begun to hear what the Aether has to say."
Caleb stood tall, his pulse racing. "What do you want with me?"
Serah's head tilted slightly. "Want? It is not about want. It is about purpose. The Aether has chosen you, as it chose others before you. The question is not whether you wish to follow—but whether you can survive the path it offers."
Caleb stepped forward, ignoring the warning in Jarek's eyes. "I don't want to be anyone's puppet. The Spiral doesn't control me."
Serah's laughter was quiet, almost melodic. "You misunderstand, Echo. You are not a puppet. You are a vessel. The Spiral does not control; it awakens. And you, Caleb, are awakening."
Her hands moved, and the air around her shimmered. From the ground beneath her feet, strange symbols began to form—glyphs, but not like the one on Caleb's wrist. These were different, alive. They pulsed in rhythm with the world around them, expanding, shifting, bending in on themselves.
And then, Serah spoke again, her words slow, deliberate.
"Come. The first step of the journey begins with the flame. And the flame will test you. If you wish to survive, you must pass through it. Only then will you understand what it means to be chosen."
Before Caleb could respond, the symbols around Serah exploded outward in a burst of fire—blazing, but controlled. Caleb raised his arm, instinctively forming a barrier of force to shield himself, but the heat still seared through him. The flame wrapped around him, pulling at his Aether, drawing on his energy as it danced in a circular pattern.
The pain was unbearable. But Caleb gritted his teeth and pushed forward, resisting the pull of the fire. The glyph on his wrist flared in response, the heat igniting something inside him, something deep and powerful.
Serah's voice echoed again, even as the flames continued to rage.
"Only the flame can forge what is unbroken. Only in the fire will you find the truth of your path."
And then, as quickly as the flames had appeared, they vanished. The air cooled, the glow of the glyph faded, and Serah was gone.
Caleb stood in the ruins, breath ragged, his skin burned but his spirit untouched. His heart pounded in his chest, but there was a strange feeling—like something had shifted, something had clicked inside of him.
He wasn't sure what Serah had meant, but he knew one thing:
The Spiral wasn't finished with him yet.