Echo walked down the cobbled street, heading back to Ronald's house after sensing that strange pressure. His steps were steady, but his eyes constantly shifted, always observing.
Birds chirped high in the trees, their melodies dancing between the buildings. From an open window nearby, he overheard a couple arguing — sharp voices muffled behind thin wooden walls.
The scent of smoke drifted through the air — wood burning, perhaps from a nearby chimney or a bakery starting up early.
A noblewoman passed by with a tall hound at her side.
She wore pristine white gloves and a subtle frown, head held high. Echo could almost smell the perfume clinging to her and the quiet arrogance in her steps. No wonder the dog walked so proudly beside her — loyalty came naturally to those treated like royalty.
Echo wandered deeper into the city, eyes wandering from shopfronts to street performers, soaking in the sights. But his casual stroll came to a screeching halt when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Hey, you! Give me back my coins!"
Echo turned and froze.
"Ah, crap..."
It was the magician he'd tricked earlier, now red-faced and pointing an accusing finger. Without hesitation, Echo spun on his heel and bolted.
The magician gave chase, yelling curses as he shoved past confused bystanders. Echo weaved through the crowd, darted between market stalls and fruit stands — until his foot landed directly on something soft and yelping.
He had stepped on the tail of a large hound.
The same hound that belonged to the noblewoman from before.
The dog roared with fury, jerking its leash so violently that the woman nearly lost her balance.
"After him!" she shouted, pointing dramatically. The hound didn't need permission — it tore after Echo, snarling, leash dragging behind it.
Now Echo had two angry pursuers: a scammed magician and a furious dog.
He sprinted down the cobbled road, breath ragged, dodging pedestrians. As he crossed an intersection, a carriage came roaring into view. The horse neighed and reared in panic at the sudden figure darting across its path.
Echo narrowly avoided being trampled.
The driver yanked hard on the reins, but it was too late.The frightened horse bucked wildly, breaking into a rampage. The carriage veered out of control, knocking over a stall and sending barrels rolling through the street. People screamed and scattered.
Echo didn't dare look back.
"I can't catch a single break."
Nearby, two city guards — halfheartedly directing traffic and lazily inspecting vendor permits — looked up at the sudden commotion. They blinked at the sight of a furious magician sprinting down the road, flailing his arms, followed by a massive dog with bared teeth.Up ahead, a young boy was clearly the target.
One guard raised an eyebrow.
"You seein' this?"
Without hesitation, both guards broke into a run — after the magician.
Echo, lungs burning and heart pounding, pushed through the crowded plaza ahead. He slipped into a bustling open-air café shaded by awnings, ducking behind a row of seated customers as waiters rushed past with trays of tea and pastries, unaware of the chase he'd barely escaped.
The magician stormed into the café, shoving past a waiter, his eyes scanning wildly through the sea of customers. Outside, the hound sniffed along the entrance, growling as it struggled against its leash. Inside, Echo could barely move — shoulder to shoulder with strangers, the smell of baked bread and perfume thick in the air. He couldn't spot the magician anymore, only the blur of movement and chatter masking any sense of direction.
Carefully, he squeezed through the crowd, inch by inch, using trays and passing waiters as cover. After what felt like minutes, he finally slipped out through the café's side door.
Meanwhile, the crowd outside had grown louder. People pressed in from all sides, confusing the guards. In the chaos, they ended up grabbing the magician instead, thinking he was the troublemaker. As for the dog — it got kicked out of the café by a sharp-eyed waiter with a broom, barking in protest as it was forced back onto the street.
Echo slipped into a narrow alleyway, the shadows swallowing him as he leaned against the wall, panting hard. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, heart still hammering.
"That was a way too close..."
The alley reeked of damp stone and rotting wood. Trash bins lined the sides, some tipped over, spilling scraps and soggy paper. He tried to catch his breath, letting the adrenaline settle.
As he looked deeper into the alley, the light behind him faded. Ahead — nothing but pitch black. The kind of darkness that swallowed sound and light whole.
A shrill scream pierced the silence from somewhere deep inside.
"... Not dealing with that."
He turned on his heel and sprinted back toward the open street, chasing the safety of sunlight without looking back.
Echo stepped into the new neighborhood, feeling the sudden drop in noise. The usual hustle of the city faded, replaced by a calm hush that settled over the quiet streets. People passed by, moving with slow, deliberate steps, their voices barely above a whisper — or silent altogether. Even the usual clatter of footsteps seemed softened, absorbed by the thick carpet of fallen leaves lining the sidewalks.
The only sounds breaking the silence were the occasional chirping of birds nesting in the nearby trees and the rhythmic whir of a paperboy pedaling down the narrow street. With practiced ease, the boy tossed newspapers onto doorsteps, the rustling of the papers the softest noise in the tranquil morning.
Echo's eyes wandered across the scene — tidy houses with neatly trimmed hedges, flowerpots resting on windowsills, and an old streetlamp casting long shadows over the cobblestone path. It was a peaceful neighborhood, a stark contrast to the chaos he had just escaped.
"Where the hell am I?"
Echo scanned his surroundings and noticed a man standing quietly nearby, gently scattering crumbs to feed a small flock of pigeons. The man's calm demeanor and poised posture gave off an air of quiet wisdom.
"Maybe he can help."
Echo approached him cautiously.
"Excuse me. Could you tell me where the southern part of Calandria is?"
Tha man turns to face him, his expression warm, though his eyes held the weight of a hundred unread books.
"Ah, indeed! Thy inquiry strikes a resonant chord in the harp of my memory. The southern quarter — a realm modest in bustle yet rich in rustic splendor — lies yonder, past the cobbled arteries that weave like fate through this ancient heart of the city. Venture hence through the plaza adorned with statues of forgotten kings, and let the scent of iron and spice guide thee like a silent compass."
"Can someone translate that?"
Echo blinked, brain locking up mid-translation.
The man continued, gesturing grandly as pigeons fluttered around his boots.
"Should thine feet remain uncertain, fear not, for the compass of curiosity oft leads truer than any map inked by man's hand."
"This is worse than being chased by a magician and a dog..."
Echo nodded awkwardly, then slowly backed away, pretending he understood every word.
He backed away from the pigeon-feeding philosopher, muttering under his breath.
"That guy spoke like a walking dictionary..."
He turned down a quieter side street, hoping to find a familiar landmark. Instead, he wandered deeper into unfamiliar territory, the buildings taller, the stone roads smoother. The smell of fresh pastries had long faded behind him.
"Hey, you! Hold it right there!"
Echo froze. He turned slowly, hands in the air like a guilty pickpocket.
Two city guards approached. One held a battered lantern that flickered weakly, the other tapped a wooden baton against his palm with casual menace. Both wore navy uniforms with bronze shoulder plates, a crest of a lion stamped on their breastplates.
The lantern-holder squinted at Echo.
"Smart kid. Hands up already. Must've done this before."
"Quit the jokes." Said the other.
"You lost or just really bad at sneaking, kid?"
Echo looks between them.
"I... uh, I'm trying to get to the south side."
"South? You're going north. You're three streets from pissing off the nobles."
"I am?"
"Yes. And unless you're planning to marry a noble's daughter, you've got no business strolling around here. This is high-class property." Said by the banton-wielder, who also wears his cap backward.
"Yea, kid. They charge taxes just for breathing around here."
Echo glanced around. Marble statues, polished fences, trimmed hedges. He definitely didn't belong here.
Suddenly, the lantern's flame sputtered and died. The guard holding it groaned and gave it a whack.
"Seriously?"
"Don't look at me like that! It's the only one left in the locker! Budget cuts, remember?"
"You always bring the broken gear. Next time I'm getting the fancy ones from storage."
While they argued, Echo stood awkwardly between them.
Eventually, the baton-guard sighed and looked back at Echo.
"Alright, whatever. We'll walk you to the southern ward. You got someone down there? Relative?"
"Kind of. He's the guy who saved my life..."
The guards exchanged a glace at each other.
"You remember his name?" Asked the baton-wielder.
"I think.... It's Ronald..."
The lantern guy's face lit up.
"Ronald the Baker from the Greenstone Street! Man keeps half the guardhouse fed. His sourdough's a crime against hunger. We raid his shop more than we patrol.His wallnut roles? Divine. And his apple tarts-"
"-have no business being that good."
Cap-backward Guard finished.
"Alright, bread boy. We'll get you back before your guardian turns your hide into toast."
"Ronald's a baker? New to me..."
Echo sighed with relief and walked between them, the city slowly returning to its familiar rhythm as the guards led him away from the gilded maze of the north.
They walked across the bustling heart of Calandria, weaving through crowds thick with energy. The city pulsed with life — street vendors hollered about fresh pears and copperware, a man wheeled a heavy barrel uphill, grunting with effort while another shouted at a stubborn mule refusing to move. Children darted between market stalls in wild games of tag.
"Wait... don't they have school?"
Echo glanced at a group of boys pretending to sword fight with sticks.
"Must be a holiday or something..."
The scent of smoke floated on the breeze again. Someone nearby was either cooking too hard or burning something they shouldn't. The wind carried bits of paper and the occasional dry leaf along the cobblestones, swirling them at Echo's feet.
He looked up. The guards chatted casually ahead of him. Something about meat pies and a broken clocktower. He didn't catch the details.
Eventually, they turned down a narrow side street Echo hadn't seen before. It sloped downhill, lined with moss-covered stone walls and rows of ivy-draped buildings. A crooked iron sign swung from the wind.
"Greenstone Street"
"This is Greenstone Street? Looks green enough... guess the name checks out. The street must be jealous of a garden."
They passed under the sign. The shortcut was quiet, and peaceful.
The lantern-holding guard stopped and gave his lower back a lazy scratch, squinting down the street.
"Alright, kid. We'll drop you off here. Just keep walking straight, past the well and the blue shutters. You'll see the house on the corner. Smells like heaven, looks like bricks. Can't miss it."
He gave Echo a playful salute.
"Alright, see you around, Bread Boy."
"Wait—uh, 'sir'... what are your names?"
The guard with the lantern grinned and jabbed a thumb at his chest.
"Us? I'm Crack. Don't laugh."
"Yes, you are. I'm Niles."
Crack elbowed his partner.
"Come on, it's a proud name. Short, sharp, memorable. Like lightning!"
"More like a dropped plate."
"Alright, we'll be seeing you next time, Bread Boy!" Crack said, flashing a two-fingered salute.
"Try not to get chased by dogs next time. Come on, Captain Cool, time to patrol."
"Don't start with that again. And for the last time, you're not getting a bonus for making terrible nicknames."
"Aww, come on, boss! I'm building morale!"
They wandered off, still tossing barbs back and forth, their laughter echoing down the street.
Echo stood watching them go, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. For all the chaos he'd stumbled into since arriving here, moments like this made it feel fun.
He turned and stepped onto the narrow street ahead.
"I blinked and the sun packed its bag."
Echo finally reached the house — Ronald's house. At least, he hoped it was. It stood quiet and still, the afternoon light casting long shadows across the front steps. No smell of fresh bread. No warmth in the air. Just silence.
He stepped up and grabbed the handle.
Creak...
Darkness greeted him. The warm scent of bread was gone, replaced by cold air and silence. Shadows clung to the corners of the walls as cobwebs. He barely had time to process it when the door slammed shut behind him with a heavy BANG!
He startled, spun around. Tugging at the handle.Locked, not even a rattle.
He swallowed hard.
"Ah oh..."
A woman's voice whispered against his ear, as soft and cold as mist.
"Come upstairs…"
"Ah, hell no.."
He spun around, looking for a way out. The living room lay just ahead, still and silent. He tiptoed inside, eyes darting over every shadow. His gaze landed on the shelf.
Family photos, he hadn't gotten a proper look at them before.
Serik was much younger, smiling in a way Echk hadn't seen before.
He picked one up — Serik and Ronald stood beside a woman. She wore a simple dress, and her hand rested gently on Serik's shoulder.
"Must be Serik's mother.... Shiny forehead, though…"
He carefully set the frame back in place and took a step back, then froze.
"Why am I here again? Oh yea..."
Panic started to creep up his spine.
He looked around the room, eyes darting for options. In the corner — a broom. He lunged for it, hand halfway to the handle — until he spotted something better, a window.
"Wait. What am I doing? I can just jump out."
He rushed to it and pushed hard, nothing.He pushed again, harder. Not even a crack.
"Whar is this? Did they glue it shut?!"
Trapped, With no better options, he backed away from the window and picked up the broom. It felt pathetically light in his hand.
With a deep breath, Echo turned toward the stairs. The second floor loomed above like the mouth of a cave.
Step by step, he climbed.
Each footfall creaked louder than the last.
Each shadow seemed to shift when he wasn't looking.And still, that voice echoed in his ears...
"Come upstairs…"
"Alright.... If something jumps out, I'm swinging first..."
Echo reached the top of the stairs, each step creaking beneath his weight. He paused in front of Ronald's door, his hand hovering over the handle.
The air here felt heavier, colder — as if the room beyond held its breath, waiting for him.
He tightened his grip on the broom and took a long breath.
"Alright... no turning back.."
He twisted the handle and pushed the door open.
The room is pitch black.He stepped inside, squinting — unable to see more than vague outlines.Behind him, the door began to close on its own, groaning slowly until Click...
"Of course, it happened again..."
A rotten, foul stench hit him like a wave. Instinctively, he lifted his jacket and pressed it over his nose and mouth, struggling to breathe through the thick, nauseating smell.
Suddenly, a flicker of light burst from a candle mounted on the far wall, casting shaky shadows across the room.
Something cold pressed against the back of his head, a voice followed.
"Welcome home…"
Echo froze. He recognized that voice, Serik.
The broom slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. His hands rose instinctively.
"Whoa — wait. Serik?"
Serik began to circle Echo, slow and deliberate, the cold barrel of the pistol never leaving the space near Echo's head. Blood streaked his face — dried and flaking in places, fresh in others. His clothes were stained, stiff from whatever he'd been through.
The light flared brighter, Ronald's body lay crumpled on the floor as a discarded puppet, limbs twisted unnaturally. Blood pooled beneath him, thick and glistening — slowly creeping across the wooden floorboards. Echo's eyes widened, but he couldn't move. The blood slid across the room, tendrils of red reaching for him — until it touched his shoes, soaking into the fabric.
A chilling lullaby drifted through the house once more. The woman's voice, soft and haunting, echoed off the walls like it came from the walls themselves.
"Sleep tight, my baby. Oh the big cat will bite you..."
"Do you feel it? That cold knot behind your eyes? That weight in your chest?"
"Because deep down you know... in a moment... this will all turn to mist. And you'll wake up to find.... It was nothing but a dream.. that's what i really hoped..."
Serik lowered the gun from Echo's head, spinning it in his hand.
"Let's play a game… I'll count to ten. If you're still here when i'm done... well, I'll have to change th rules."
"Ready? I hope you are."