The mist had not lifted by morning.
It clung to the trees like spider silk, curled around the broken ramparts of the Soul Watch Tower, and drifted through every crack and window like a living thing. Asher stood on the upper ledge of the tower, staring out into the dense fog that blanketed the forest. The sunrise could not pierce it.
"This mist isn't natural," Elira said, appearing beside him in a wavering shimmer. "It's whispering."
"I know," Asher said, gripping the hilt of his sword.
Below, Liaen poured soul-salt along the inner threshold. Emilia was awake too, sitting by the cold hearth, sketching symbols into the stone floor with charcoal from the fire they hadn't lit.
Asher descended the stairs slowly. "What are you drawing?"
Emilia looked up, startled. "I don't know."
She held up the crude lines: concentric rings with broken triangles spiraling inward. The pattern tugged at something in Asher's memory—a seal he had seen once on the battlefield, etched into the forehead of a monster that had once been human.
Elira floated over, narrowing her eyes.
"That's cult work."
"I saw it in a dream," Emilia whispered. "There was a voice. It said, 'We remember the names carved from silence.' Then I woke up and just... started drawing."
Liaen stepped forward, pale. "That phrase is a rite. The Cult of Shattered Names uses it to awaken soul-bound memories in children born of marked bloodlines."
Asher's jaw clenched. "They're trying to awaken her."
The mist pressed tighter by the hour. No birds. No insects. No wind.
Then came the knock.
Three soft taps on the tower door.
No one moved.
The knock came again.
Asher motioned for Liaen to stay with Emilia. He descended to the lower level and approached the door with his blade drawn. Elira floated ahead of him, already flickering defensively.
The third knock didn't come.
Instead, a child's voice echoed from beyond the stone. "Open the door, Asher. You left me behind."
Elira froze mid-air.
Asher didn't move.
"You remember me," the voice said. "I died in the ruins. I called your name as the beasts tore into me."
The memory struck like a dagger.
"No," Asher said softly. "You're not him. You're just echoing his soul."
"Does it matter?" the voice whispered. "You still let me die."
Elira's glow flared, and she slammed her presence into the door—forcing a spiritual backlash that sent the illusion screaming into the woods.
Silence followed.
Then Elira turned to Asher, voice tight. "They're not just using the mist. They're using echoes."
They moved before noon. The mist would only deepen, and staying would invite something worse.
As they trekked through the half-lit forest, the echoes came.
Whispers from the trees. Faces forming in the fog. Memories twisted into mockery.
Emilia heard her mother's voice pleading from the shadows.
Liaen saw his brother, lost to the Blight Wars, accusing him of survival.
And Asher… Asher saw Elira.
Not the one beside him. Another version. Bloody. Screaming. Her final moment relived over and over again in every tree and every shadow.
Elira tried to reach him, but even she was shaken. "This… this isn't illusion. It's soul-deep."
"They're dragging pieces of our guilt into reality," Asher muttered.
"That means they're close," Liaen said, notching an arrow. "A Soul Weaver is near."
They broke through the mist just before dusk, emerging onto the ridge above a black valley.
Down below, hidden behind ancient stones and veils of fog, was a shrine.
Half-buried. Cracked. But still humming with soul power.
Emilia sank to her knees, breath stolen. "I know this place."
Asher stared down at it. "What is it?"
"My mother brought me here once. When I was little. She said… it was where my soul was first marked."
Elira floated over the edge. "It's an ancient Soul Vault. The Cult uses these to awaken latent bloodlines."
Asher gritted his teeth. "Then we burn it to the ground."
"No," Emilia said. "We go inside."
Everyone turned to her.
"I need to know what's inside. What they put inside me."
That night, they stood at the shrine's edge, the moon high and red above them.
The doors were etched with the same concentric runes Emilia had drawn.
Asher looked at her one last time. "Are you ready?"
"No," she admitted. "But I'm going anyway."
He nodded. "Then we go together."
Elira hovered behind them, her glow pulsing.
Liaen knocked an arrow.
And the doors of the shrine groaned open, releasing a single, pale echo that whispered:
"Welcome home, Emilia Gray."