The Echohold Awakens

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I had seen wonders before.

But never like this. The Glasswood stretched around us like a living cathedral, its branches latticed with light and roots pulsing with the hum of ancient things. Each step deeper into the wood felt like crossing a veil.

Even the guards behind us had gone quiet, their boots muffled on the moss-covered path. I had long since stopped looking back at them. Their necessary presence clashed too loudly with the reverence in this place.

Benraseth led us with his usual gentle stride, his weathered face lit by joy rather than orb light.

“Many of these trees,” he said, “stood when time itself was still learning to walk. Some believe they were around when Veya shaped the first 12 Veyari. The Firstbloods sang here. They walked among the presence of Veya and the Lunari. Can you imagine?”

His voice had dropped into near-awe.

“I have visited these woods many times, and still, I feel no less small each time I return. If these trees could speak, what stories they would tell…”

I very nearly remarked on his height contributing to that feeling, but Elijah chuckled behind me before I could. I smiled at the sound I hadn’t heard for some time.

“Benraseth, I must commend you! I do not believe I have ever seen Azura so quiet! She looks positively dumbfounded!”

I rolled my eyes for him to see. “What a simple thing for you to say, mister Prince of Kavareth, you have had the luxury of seeing this place before now. I have scarcely seen outside the walls of the castle since my mother became your father’s religious advisor.”

He didn’t argue, but his eyes lingered on me longer than expected. Soft and unreadable.

Benraseth veered left onto a more worn path, one seemingly hidden by the way the light refracted. It was nearly blinding at times, and yet somehow never overwhelming, as though the forest itself knew when to dim for your comfort.

The energy radiating through fractaled shadows sent my skin buzzing with energy. I felt restless in beside the transluscebt boughs. The desire to run headlong through the trees nearly consumed me

So I did.

I turned once to catch Elijah’s gaze—his golden eyes already tracking me—and winked before bolting into the light between trees.

My shoes were gone by the second step, abandoned to the forest floor.

Grass and soil and shimmering energy sparked up my legs like livewire.

I laughed, overcome with radiant light and what felt like essence filling my lungs with each inhale.

“Azura!” Elijah called out behind me, sounding closer than I had anticipated. Like prey in pursuit, I pushed harder—legs burning and lungs raw— as I tore through the trees. Glasswood and oak whipped past, the world narrowing to light and motion, until suddenly, it opened.

I stumbled into a clearing, breath caught in my chest.

Before me, carved into the side of a mountain, rose the Veymount Echohold.

Twelve massive columns of white stone veined with golden essence stretched toward the sky. A stairway led up into the arched interior, where a soft mist glowed from within. I could feel it in my bones, a deep and resonant vibration like a memory awakening.

I stepped forward, drawn to the presence of something Other.

Then a hand gripped my wrist, pulling me back into the surrounding oak trees.

I nearly crashed into Elijah’s chest as he covered my mouth with one hand and pointed with the other.

Two figures in evergreen cloaks stood 20 paces from the entrance to the columns. They chanted in felscrit, each syllable low and curling in the air.

“What are they saying?” Elijah whispered

“They are asking Lureth to grant them access to the Echohold.”

His breath caught, ”That…That is an Echohold? I have never seen one quite like this. We cannot let them interfere.” He moved to reach his blade as I turned and placed my hand over his in warning.

“The Everfire will never allow it. Mage worship fallen gods as though their reverence can repair the curse lunafel reaped from rebellion. They’ve been trying for centuries, Elijah. All is well.” I stated it as whispered fact, catching his gaze in my own. He froze for a moment, expression shifting to surprise before stepping further backward into the oak tree foliage.

He gestured for me to follow silently and we slipped away from the path unseen and caught up with guards we had somehow managed to elude. Elijah muttered to them about mage activity, and our party shifted course south in an effort to avoid unnecessary disputes over a disrupted spell.

“Benraseth did you know of the Echohold in this wood?” Elijah’s tone became clinical in his questioning. “It looks abandoned. Are there others who still practice worship of the Veil?”

“Some Veilborn still practice, yes, though they face difficulties with acceptance. Your father does not condemn it, but having a mage as his religious advisor certainly sends a specific message.”

I didn’t need to turn to see Benraseth’s gaze to know he was very much aware of the Echohold’s location. Elijah switched tactics, attempting to tread more lightly in the presence of so many others.

“Most people I have communicated with tend toward Lotsworn or Symmetrian modes of thinking. With the prominence of logic driving much of Kavareth’s progress forward, why do the mage still possess such a strong foothold?”

Benraseth turned to Elijah, diving into lecture mode. “Great question my boy! Most Veyari simply want to believe in themselves, if you really want to look at logic. Believing that everything around us is left up to the flip of a coin or the principles of likelihood is a lot like planting a flag in the fog and calling it your homeland. They don’t believe in the idea. Not truly.

They believe they believe the idea.

Which is to say—they have placed their faith not in the truth of the thing, but in their own capacity to believe anything at all.”

“What of the mage? They claim to worship lunafel. That is different from a Symmetrian who denies the existence of beings in this realm that we cannot see, that possess power nonetheless. Is that not belief in something other than oneself?”

I smiled, listening to Elijah’s mind out loud was such a rarity. I remained silent as we continued trudging further south, more toward a cluster of oak trees where the Glasswood were sparse.

“Would a mage still worship lunafel if their gods did not give them power?” The old man answered simply.

Samara came to mind immediately. I knew for a fact that she would never cling so desperately to a force that did not serve her purposes.

“So the mage do not need the lunafel to be real, just… useful?” Elijah asked thoughtfully.

“Precisely my boy! Mage faith is not built on truth, but on the feeling of belief itself They are not worshiping a god or an origin so much as worshiping their own ability to imagine power, claim it, and bend it to their will. Their power is self referential.”

I nearly snorted. “Teacher, have you read my mother’s journal?”

We reached camp not long after, the royal guard already setting to work. Tents rose in practiced rhythm, the soft clink of stakes and murmured orders filling the clearing.

Low conversations sparked around the fire, some still circling Benraseth’s lesson, others scoffing at it like drunken folklore.

Belief, as always, made people louder.

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I slipped into the thickness of night, leaving the whispered debates of the royal guard in my wake.

Benraseth’s philosophy had struck a chord in some, others dismissed them with laughter, mocking belief as weakness, reducing faith as something only the unloved cling to.

None of it surprised me.

But the dismissiveness burned, how easily they could reject the Everfire.

I moved swiftly through the glasswoods, brightly illuminated by the noctorb high in the night sky. Somehow the trees felt just as alive as they had in the daylight, teaming with breath and life. These wood moved with Veya’s very presence. I could feel it.

But I wasn’t alone.

My senses sharpened, someone was following me.

I surged forward, veering toward a collection of oak treees and scaled to a low bough with skilled precision. I crouched, low and focused.

Footsteps closed in and a flash of copper hair in fractured light. Was that…

Elijah.

I dropped, knocking him to the ground, blade drawn and poised at the flesh of his neck.

“Azura?” He chuckled in disbelief beneath me.

“You are very lucky that I like you. I almost knicked you as a souvenir for my troubles.”

Elijah grinned, breathless. “You tackled me. You really climbed a tree and tackled me!” He shook his head in disbelief.

I shrugged. “You snuck up on me. What were you expecting to happen?” I rose from the ground, offering a hand to my breathless victim.

He swatted my hand away playfully. “I was making sure that whatever feral creatures live in your imagination did not decide to eat you.” He stood before me, golden eyes bright in the noctorb light. “I should have know you’d be the most fearsome feral creature in these woods.” His cheeks flushed aster. Something about his energy made me feel shy, far too exposed and aware. Aware of the lack of distance between us. Alarm bells rang in my mind once more.

We were exposed.

Breaking whatever spell cast between us, I broke out into a rhythmic jog toward the Echohold.

He sighed and caught up with my pace. Regret flooded my senses. What had I done? Whatever that moment was, for the first time in a long while, he hadn’t been the first to break our gaze. To cut the conversation short or shut down in silence.

“When are you going to admit that you want to see the Echohold half as badly as I do. You broke camp with the same agenda, you just knew I would beat you to it.” It was a half hearted attempt to bring lightness back to the mood.

He said nothing in response, silently agreeing that the spell had been broken.

We reached the clearing from earlier in the day and slowed to investigate our surroundings. Elijah drew his blade, circling the outskirts of the half orb shaped clearing before nodding to me it was safe to proceed.

We approached in silence, awestruck by the gold-veined pillars shimmering in the light of the noctorb as though it were breathing. It was no longer silent stone but a symphony of light. The golden essence pulsed faintly, as though the light itself traveled through them like blood.

Inside, the air vibrated with something too holy to name. The same pure white stone was chiseled to perfection in circular patterns across the floor, Veilish flame patterns etched into Veilstone itself.

Gold veined floors gave way to an imposing mountainside chamber. 12 more of the pillar columns lined the outskirts of a long corridor, sweeping arched columns between them leading to a spherical hollow. another two ribbed vaults that curved upward to reach the center in a dome and cut across to the other side of the room, forming a perpendicular meeting point.

Elijah walked beside me, a similar dumbfounded look on his face as mine, I was certain.

“They say the Lunari used to hum when worship rose to the Avarin,” I whispered, stepping ahead into the dome chamber

I began to sing, soft at first. I could scarcely remember the words Benraseth had shown us in an old Veilish Echo, so I hummed much of it.

Light from the golden veins began to dance through the corridor, creating a rhythm and cadence in its firework display. My voice grew louder, more confident as the words seemed to come to me from a memory I did not recognize. Suddenly my voice was not alone, deep and resonant hums rose to match my Echoes, layer upon layer unfurling as if Lunari were rousing from a long sleep. Their harmonies spiraled upward, filling the domed chamber with otherworldly light, each note stitched with memory and reverence.

Elijah gazed on in estonishment, golden embers transfixed on me as he approached, caressing my cheek as I sang with a newfound boldness. My tone soared, meeting the Lunari, mine and the unseen, in a breathtaking collision of sound, a thousand tones striking as one.

Our voices crescendoed, each note folding into the next like waves collapsing into light before collapsing. The echo of a final, solitary note hung suspended, haunting and beautiful.

Elijah held my gaze for a moment, grasping both of my cheeks in his palms as he rested his head on mine.

“That was breathtaking. You sang and the Lunari rose to praise with you.” He shook his head as he pulled back, just enough to peer into my eyes once more. “You. You are breathtaking.” Golden embers burst into flames, stealing the air from my lungs. Had he ever looked so, what’s the word he used? Breathtaking.

And then, like breath in morning light, he kissed me. No hesitation or warning. Just the press of longing in its purest form. My hands caught up in his copper locks, pulling toward him in silent confirmation.

Months of angst, of silence and almosts, had led to this—this moment. Locked in his embrace, his lips moving against mine as if they’d always known how. Nothing had ever made more sense.

The questions fell away.

His kiss answered them all.

His gentle urgency answered what words never could.

What I wouldn’t give for this moment to endure.

But all too quickly, he pulled away.

“Elijah.” I breathed. He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes once more.

“Shall I apologize for being forward now?”

I shoved against him half heartedly. “Don’t you dare. If you regret this moment, I think I shall perish.” He grinned once more and placed a chaste kiss on my nose.

“I will never let you perish, Azura of the Grasslands.”

I wanted to ask him what all of this meant. It was easy to be free in a moment of privacy, but did this change anything about us? Who we were to one another? I feared I would never be the same if this moment were reduced to mere boyhood exploration.

“Azura.” He took a half step back, seemingly to gauge my reaction. “Have you considered what it is to be King? Have you ever considered what it would mean to walk that path, to carry what I carry?” I received my answer far too quickly, his tone too soft for the implications he bore.

I felt the air leave my lungs like a blunt force to the chest. Here it is. The truth. He’s finally admitting that I haven’t imagined all of the distance and coldness he’s afforded me in recent times. I have the answer I’ve been searching for, and yet I’d give anything for him to take it back. To never speak a word and keep me in a delusional darkness.

Have I considered what it would mean to walk that path? Like I’m not keenly aware of my status in this realm. My name would not bring him glory, standing beside him would bring only shame. He was simply too kind to say it plainly.

Of course. Of course this was what it all came down to.

He wasn’t rejecting me because he didn’t want me.

He was rejecting me because he did.

Because he knew what wanting me would cost.

I took a step back. Then another. Calculating my temper, contemplating running from these woods back the Castle Kevar.

“Yes. My Prince.” I said softly. “I have considered exactly what it would mean. I am not in need of reminders of where I stand in the Stratarch.” I met his gaze with steel. “I wouldn’t dare forget my place. The soil tends to leave stains.”

It almost felt unfair, accusing him this way. Elijah had never treated me as less than. It was everyone around us that felt a persistent need to remind him that he was to wed for the wealth of a nation, and I was to become whatever most convenienced my mother. I was the soilborn rat the courtroom tolerated because the king commanded it for his royal vizier. Perhaps it was why this betrayal cut deeper.

“Azura.” His eyes widened in disbelief. “No. That is not what I…” he trailed off.

A low and nearly unnatural hum echoed through the halls.

“Mage.” I whispered, stepping closer to him unconsciously. He nodded, jaw tight, and pulled me into his arms. “Stay close.”

“The Everfire will never allow it.” I echoed my words from this very morning. “We can wait them out.” But he pulled me toward the columns edge, peering past the threshold.

“We cannot wait. They know we’ve awakened Lunari.” He turned to face me once more. “Azura they are going to kill us.”

Tears welled as I nodded.

“I know.”

And then the smoke filled the air.

Thank you, reader, for your support!

This is only Part I.

Next week’s drop will unveil the plot to kill the Veilborn who dared awaken sleeping Lunari, a desperate attempt to save the would-be king’s life, and perhaps—just perhaps—the first stirring of something far more dangerous: the return of true magic.

Paid subscribers will receive a deeper look into the awakening of the Veilborn gift, along with an exclusive excerpt from Elijah’s private journal—written the night after the Echohold. His words hint at a new kind of power, one he barely understands… but cannot ignore.

Until we meet again,

Veilborn