Chapter 37:
Echoes of the Forgotten
Dreambound: The Veil Between Worlds
The corridors of the Veil twisted unnaturally, folding back on themselves like the memory of a half-remembered dream. Shadows and silver light collided in irregular patterns along the walls, creating an illusion of infinite depth. My body ached from the last confrontation, veins still tingling with the residual surge of the prism’s forbidden magic. It whispered faintly, a pulse beneath my skin, reminding me of the cost of choice.
Elarin glided beside me, her silver threads of magic leaving faint trails in the air. “The Veil remembers those lost… but it does not forgive,” she whispered, voice trembling slightly despite her composed demeanor. Her eyes darted to the faint disturbances in the corridor, reflections twisting unnaturally in the silver light.
I shivered, sensing the echoes of the forgotten before I even saw them. Faces erased from reality flickered in the mist, like shadows of smoke forming memories half-remembered. Whispers curled along the walls, soft but insistent, brushing against my mind like a cold, intangible breeze.
“They’re… echoes?” I asked, raising a hand as dreamlight sparked at my fingertips. They felt different from anything I had encountered—no heartbeat, no warmth, yet their presence pressed against me, probing the edges of my consciousness.
“Yes,” Elarin said, voice tight. “Not Mirrorborn, not fully alive. These are remnants of those the Veil has forgotten—the lost memories that never returned. Their forms… they are incomplete, but their intent is real.”
A soft sound, like the sigh of a thousand forgotten souls, grew into a chorus of whispers. Shapes began to coalesce, humanoid yet fragmented: mirrored eyes, limbs fading into mist, faces blurred into nothingness. Some tilted curiously as if observing me, others reached hungrily for substance, moving with unnatural precision, bending reality around them like liquid shadows.
“Be ready,” Elarin warned. “They respond to thought and feeling. Fear, doubt, hesitation… they will exploit it.”
I clenched my fists, recalling the prism’s lesson. Magic alone was not enough; clarity, intent, and resolve were essential. “Then I won’t hesitate,” I muttered, letting my dreamlight flare brighter, weaving itself into a small cocoon around me.
---
The first echo lunged, dissolving into silver mist that shimmered like broken glass in sunlight, then reformed a dozen feet away. Its motion was jagged, unnatural, as though guided by fragmented memories. It struck again, and I reacted instinctively. “Lumae verin!”
Silver shards erupted from my palms, slicing the mist into fragments that drifted like ash. The echo screamed, a sound like glass shattering in infinite echoing halls, dissolving temporarily into nothing.
Elarin moved in tandem, weaving threads of light that snared multiple echoes midair. “Ithrel suven!” she chanted, binding them into lattices of silver light that constricted and splintered them, scattering glittering fragments across the corridor.
But the echoes kept coming, multiplying unpredictably, almost sentient. I realized the Veil was testing me—each echo was an extension of its will, probing whether I could command what had been forbidden.
One particularly large echo surged forward, towering over the rest. Its mirrored eyes reflected not only my image but fragments of my deepest fears—faces I had lost, names I could barely remember, moments of failure I had tried to bury. The shadowed hand it lifted pressed into the air itself, thickening it like a living weight, forcing my lungs to struggle.
I focused on intent, letting my resolve anchor my magic. “Veyra lumeth!”
Silver fire erupted, colliding with the mirrored gaze of the echo. Its scream split into multiple smaller echoes, writhing and splintering like shards of fractured glass. My muscles trembled with exertion, yet clarity emerged: these were not separate threats—they were fragments of a single, fractured consciousness.
Elarin’s voice cut sharply. “Combine your spells! Bind them as one!”
I drew a shuddering breath and let dreamlight coalesce at my hands. Threads of silver and shards of flame twisted together in intricate patterns, merging into a singular, radiant force. “Seran velith… Ithrel veran… Lumae verin!” I spoke with conviction. The words were no longer just spells—they were declarations of intent, a resonance of my will with the Veil itself.
The echoes faltered, writhing violently under the combined force of magic and intent. Streams of silver mist dissolved into the corridor, leaving only the largest, most complete echo hovering above the center. Its mirrored eyes reflected my doubts, regrets, and hidden memories with eerie precision.
“You must face it,” Elarin whispered, stepping close. “This one… holds the truth of the forgotten. Only you can resolve it.”
The echoes pressed against me, tugging at my memories, testing my resolve. Fragments of my past threatened to collapse under the pressure. But I remembered the prism’s lesson: magic follows intent. Clarity and courage were my anchors.
“Seran velith… Ithrel veran… Lumae verin…” I chanted again, letting the words resonate through every fiber of my being.
The largest echo screamed—a sound like shattering glass and broken voices. Its mirrored eyes fractured, revealing a single, familiar face—someone I had once known, someone erased from memory. The figure reached toward me. I hesitated only for a heartbeat, then extended my hand, letting magic and intent flow together.
Light surged through the chamber, binding memory and dream. The echo’s form stabilized, fragile but whole—a reminder of what had been lost. I felt its gratitude, a whisper of a forgotten name brushing past my mind, fleeting yet warm.
The corridor quieted. Other echoes dissolved into strands of silver mist, drifting upward like smoke. My body sagged against the wall, trembling, but clarity settled in my chest: the Veil was calm, for now, though the threads remained fragile.
Elarin knelt beside me, silver hair catching the pale light. “You’ve done more than survive, Lucen. You’ve begun to restore what the Veil tried to erase. But the threads are fragile. Every memory, every echo… is now your responsibility.”
I nodded weakly. “I… I understand.”
Deep within the Veil, a pulse of silver light flared, acknowledging my effort. Beneath it, subtle currents shifted—a thread I had not yet touched, a hidden secret ready to pull me toward the next challenge.
And I knew, with a chill, that the echoes of the forgotten were only the beginning.
---
To be continued…
--
Elarin glided beside me, her silver threads of magic leaving faint trails in the air. “The Veil remembers those lost… but it does not forgive,” she whispered, voice trembling slightly despite her composed demeanor. Her eyes darted to the faint disturbances in the corridor, reflections twisting unnaturally in the silver light.
I shivered, sensing the echoes of the forgotten before I even saw them. Faces erased from reality flickered in the mist, like shadows of smoke forming memories half-remembered. Whispers curled along the walls, soft but insistent, brushing against my mind like a cold, intangible breeze.
“They’re… echoes?” I asked, raising a hand as dreamlight sparked at my fingertips. They felt different from anything I had encountered—no heartbeat, no warmth, yet their presence pressed against me, probing the edges of my consciousness.
“Yes,” Elarin said, voice tight. “Not Mirrorborn, not fully alive. These are remnants of those the Veil has forgotten—the lost memories that never returned. Their forms… they are incomplete, but their intent is real.”
A soft sound, like the sigh of a thousand forgotten souls, grew into a chorus of whispers. Shapes began to coalesce, humanoid yet fragmented: mirrored eyes, limbs fading into mist, faces blurred into nothingness. Some tilted curiously as if observing me, others reached hungrily for substance, moving with unnatural precision, bending reality around them like liquid shadows.
“Be ready,” Elarin warned. “They respond to thought and feeling. Fear, doubt, hesitation… they will exploit it.”
I clenched my fists, recalling the prism’s lesson. Magic alone was not enough; clarity, intent, and resolve were essential. “Then I won’t hesitate,” I muttered, letting my dreamlight flare brighter, weaving itself into a small cocoon around me.
---
The first echo lunged, dissolving into silver mist that shimmered like broken glass in sunlight, then reformed a dozen feet away. Its motion was jagged, unnatural, as though guided by fragmented memories. It struck again, and I reacted instinctively. “Lumae verin!”
Silver shards erupted from my palms, slicing the mist into fragments that drifted like ash. The echo screamed, a sound like glass shattering in infinite echoing halls, dissolving temporarily into nothing.
Elarin moved in tandem, weaving threads of light that snared multiple echoes midair. “Ithrel suven!” she chanted, binding them into lattices of silver light that constricted and splintered them, scattering glittering fragments across the corridor.
But the echoes kept coming, multiplying unpredictably, almost sentient. I realized the Veil was testing me—each echo was an extension of its will, probing whether I could command what had been forbidden.
One particularly large echo surged forward, towering over the rest. Its mirrored eyes reflected not only my image but fragments of my deepest fears—faces I had lost, names I could barely remember, moments of failure I had tried to bury. The shadowed hand it lifted pressed into the air itself, thickening it like a living weight, forcing my lungs to struggle.
I focused on intent, letting my resolve anchor my magic. “Veyra lumeth!”
Silver fire erupted, colliding with the mirrored gaze of the echo. Its scream split into multiple smaller echoes, writhing and splintering like shards of fractured glass. My muscles trembled with exertion, yet clarity emerged: these were not separate threats—they were fragments of a single, fractured consciousness.
Elarin’s voice cut sharply. “Combine your spells! Bind them as one!”
I drew a shuddering breath and let dreamlight coalesce at my hands. Threads of silver and shards of flame twisted together in intricate patterns, merging into a singular, radiant force. “Seran velith… Ithrel veran… Lumae verin!” I spoke with conviction. The words were no longer just spells—they were declarations of intent, a resonance of my will with the Veil itself.
The echoes faltered, writhing violently under the combined force of magic and intent. Streams of silver mist dissolved into the corridor, leaving only the largest, most complete echo hovering above the center. Its mirrored eyes reflected my doubts, regrets, and hidden memories with eerie precision.
“You must face it,” Elarin whispered, stepping close. “This one… holds the truth of the forgotten. Only you can resolve it.”
The echoes pressed against me, tugging at my memories, testing my resolve. Fragments of my past threatened to collapse under the pressure. But I remembered the prism’s lesson: magic follows intent. Clarity and courage were my anchors.
“Seran velith… Ithrel veran… Lumae verin…” I chanted again, letting the words resonate through every fiber of my being.
The largest echo screamed—a sound like shattering glass and broken voices. Its mirrored eyes fractured, revealing a single, familiar face—someone I had once known, someone erased from memory. The figure reached toward me. I hesitated only for a heartbeat, then extended my hand, letting magic and intent flow together.
Light surged through the chamber, binding memory and dream. The echo’s form stabilized, fragile but whole—a reminder of what had been lost. I felt its gratitude, a whisper of a forgotten name brushing past my mind, fleeting yet warm.
The corridor quieted. Other echoes dissolved into strands of silver mist, drifting upward like smoke. My body sagged against the wall, trembling, but clarity settled in my chest: the Veil was calm, for now, though the threads remained fragile.
Elarin knelt beside me, silver hair catching the pale light. “You’ve done more than survive, Lucen. You’ve begun to restore what the Veil tried to erase. But the threads are fragile. Every memory, every echo… is now your responsibility.”
I nodded weakly. “I… I understand.”
Deep within the Veil, a pulse of silver light flared, acknowledging my effort. Beneath it, subtle currents shifted—a thread I had not yet touched, a hidden secret ready to pull me toward the next challenge.
And I knew, with a chill, that the echoes of the forgotten were only the beginning.
---
To be continued…
--
Author’s Note
Lucen confronts the lost memories of the Veil, testing intent and resolve. Magic reflects will, not just strength. Restoring the forgotten carries responsibility and the consequences ripple forward.
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