Mist rises from the ground at Clearwater's edge, thin wisps at first, then thicker coils that twist between pine trunks. Ava, Liam, and Sophie stand in loose formation, their breath visible in the cooling evening air. The town lies behind them, its lights distant and insignificant against the encroaching darkness. They've been practicing for an hour, and exhaustion pulls at their limbs, but determination keeps them in place, keeps them focused. After last night's visitations, none of them could bear to be alone with their thoughts.
"Again," Ava whispers to herself, palms facing upward. Light gathers beneath her skin, pooling like liquid gold between her fingers. She concentrates, brow furrowed, and separates her hands slowly. The light stretches, resisting at first, then splitting into a perfect sphere that hovers above her palm. She smiles, a quick flash of pride before refocusing. Two more spheres form beside the first, smaller but stable, casting her face in warm illumination.
"You're getting better at that," Liam says. He sits cross-legged on a flat rock nearby, hands cupped before him. Shadows gather in the bowl of his palms, darker than the gathering dusk, moving with liquid grace as he passes them from one hand to the other. The darkness responds more readily now, though it still pulls against his control like a living thing testing its boundaries.
Ava's spheres bob gently in the air, following the motion of her fingertips. "It's easier when I'm not afraid of it," she admits. "When I stop fighting myself."
The phrase hangs between them, heavier than intended. Liam's jaw tightens, a barely perceptible flinch that Ava immediately regrets causing. The memory of her bandaged arm lingers between them, though the wound itself has nearly healed.
"Sorry, I didn't mean—"
"I know," he interrupts, shadow rippling between his fingers. "You're right anyway."
Sophie sits apart from them, eyes closed, back straight as a ruler. Her glasses rest beside her, making her look younger, more vulnerable. Her lips move in silent rhythm, counting or sorting the invisible sounds only she can hear. The past week has been hardest on her—the echoes growing stronger, more invasive, harder to filter without overwhelming her senses.
"Anything?" Ava asks softly.
Sophie raises one finger, requesting silence without opening her eyes. Her focus is absolute, face tight with concentration. After a moment, she nods.
"I can separate them now," she says, voice slightly hoarse. "The echoes from different time periods. It's like... tuning a radio. I just have to find the right frequency." Her eyes open, tired but triumphant. "I heard someone talking about the community center being built. 1922. The mayor arguing with the architect about costs."
Liam's shadow coils into a tight spiral above his palm. "That's progress."
"Not enough," Sophie says, reaching for her glasses. "Not fast enough."
The mist thickens around their ankles, curling upward with unnatural intent. Ava's light spheres flicker, casting strange shadows that stretch and contract against the white backdrop. None of them speak, but all notice the change—temperature dropping further, air pressure shifting, the fog no longer behaving as it should.
"Guys," Ava says, voice tight. Her spheres drift closer to her body, protective instinct pulling her light inward.
Liam stands, shadows gathering around his hands like gauntlets. "We should head back."
"Wait." Sophie remains seated, head tilted as if listening. "Something's wrong. The echoes are... changing."
The mist condenses, pulling together into a denser form. Darkness bleeds into the white vapor, staining it like ink dropped in water. The shape lacks definition, constantly shifting, but something about it suggests a vaguely human silhouette stretched and distorted beyond recognition.
Silver eyes open within the churning mass, tarnished coins gleaming with cold intelligence.
"The children remember," it says, voice like paper tearing, like whispers overlapping, like a hundred forgotten conversations playing simultaneously. "How... inconvenient."
Ava's light spheres pulse brighter, pushing against the encroaching darkness. "Stay back," she warns, trying to sound braver than she feels.
The Shadow Demon glides closer, its form rippling as it moves. Tendrils of darkness reach from its amorphous body, testing the air, tasting it.
"Little light-bearer," it says, focusing those silver eyes on Ava. "So determined to be seen. But who would want to see you as you truly are?"
The words strike with precision, finding insecurities she hasn't voiced to anyone. Her spheres waver, dimming as doubt seeps into her concentration.
"Weak," the demon continues, voice slithering into her mind. "Unworthy. You'll fail them as you've failed yourself."
"Don't listen to it," Liam shouts, stepping between Ava and the demon. He raises his hands, shadows extending from his fingers in whip-like tendrils. They lash toward the creature, but upon contact, they don't strike—they merge, absorbed into the demon's greater darkness.
Horror dawns on Liam's face as his own shadows writhe backward, turning against him. Dark coils wrap around his wrists, slithering up his arms with constricting force. Another tendril circles his throat, tightening until his breath comes in strangled gasps.
"Control is an illusion," the demon tells him, silver eyes gleaming with amusement. "The darkness was never yours to command."
Sophie scrambles to her feet, hands pressed to her temples. "Stop it!" she demands, but her voice wavers as the air fills with whispering echoes—her own voice at six years old, crying out in fear; her mother's voice, distant and clinical, discussing sacrifice; voices she's never heard before, drowning her in fragments of terror and loss.
She collapses to her knees, overwhelmed by the assault on her senses. "Too much," she gasps. "Can't filter—can't—"
The demon flows around them now, encircling the trio in a tightening ring of shadow and mist. Ava tries to intensify her light, but the spheres flicker and die one by one, leaving only a faint glow beneath her skin that seems to retreat inward with each passing second. Liam struggles against his own rebellious shadows, face purpling as the tendril around his neck constricts.
"Such potential," the demon muses, its form expanding, engulfing more of the mist. "Wasted on children who can't even save themselves."
It surges forward simultaneously from all sides, a crushing wave of darkness. Ava reaches for her friends, fingers stretching toward them as her light gutters like a candle in wind. Sophie curls into herself, hands clamped over her ears against the deafening echoes. Liam's eyes widen in panic as darkness climbs higher around his throat.
The Shadow Demon draws back for a final strike, silver eyes fixing on each of them in turn, savoring their fear.
"Mine," it hisses, voice thick with anticipation. "As you were always meant to be."
The darkness rushes inward—and shatters against a sudden blaze of silver fire that cuts through the night like a blade. The demon recoils with a hiss of pain or surprise, its form momentarily destabilizing, pieces of darkness scattering before pulling back together at a safer distance.
Ava blinks against the sudden brightness, spots dancing in her vision. Through them, she sees a familiar silhouette approaching from the tree line.
Lucian stands at the edge of the clearing, hands extended, silver flames dancing between his fingers.
Lucian's silver flames cast hard shadows across the clearing, illuminating the terror on the teens' faces and the fluid darkness of the Shadow Demon as it retreats. His movements are precise, controlled, not a gesture wasted as he positions himself between the teens and the creature. The flames don't radiate heat like normal fire—instead, they pull warmth from the air, creating a pocket of intense cold that makes the mist crystallize where it touches.
"Stay behind me," Lucian commands, voice sharp with authority. The teens huddle together, a tangle of limbs and relief and lingering fear. Liam massages his throat where shadow marks still darken his skin. Ava's light has disappeared entirely, leaving her hands ordinary and pale in the silver glow. Sophie's eyes remain unfocused, her mind still processing the barrage of echoes forced upon her.
The Shadow Demon doesn't flee completely. It recedes to the tree line, its form dispersing among the natural shadows, silver eyes still visible through gaps in the foliage. Watching. Waiting.
"It's stronger than before," Lucian says, maintaining his defensive stance. "And it's fixated on you three specifically."
Ava tries to summon her light again, but only the faintest glow appears beneath her skin before fading. "Why can't I—" Her voice cracks with frustration and exhaustion.
Lucian's attention shifts to her while his flames continue to hold the demon at bay. He reaches into his coat pocket with his free hand and withdraws a small silver pendant on a fine chain. "Here," he says, passing it to her. "This will help stabilize your energy."
The pendant is cool against her palm, its surface etched with symbols similar to those in her Almanac. When her fingers close around it, warmth spreads up her arm, and light rekindles beneath her skin, steady and controlled.
"What is it?" she asks, slipping the chain over her head.
"Silver from the shadow lands, forged in light," Lucian explains. "It creates a barrier between your power and external influence." His eyes flick toward the tree line. "Temporary protection, but useful."
Liam stands hunched, hands clenched into fists as his shadows writhe around him, disorganized and resistant. "I can't control them," he says through gritted teeth. "They're not listening."
Lucian moves to him, silver flames diminishing slightly as the immediate threat recedes. "The demon accessed your connection to shadow and poisoned it with doubt." He places a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Ground yourself. Remember that darkness isn't inherently malevolent—it's a tool, an extension of your will, not a separate entity."
He guides Liam's hands downward. "Touch the earth. Feel its solidity. Shadows need anchors, just as you do."
Liam kneels, pressing his palms against the damp grass. His breathing steadies as the shadows gradually calm, flowing around his fingers like water finding its proper channel. The darkness collects beneath his hands, no longer fighting his control.
"Better," Lucian says, satisfaction evident in his voice.
Sophie remains curled in on herself, hands still pressed to her temples. Whispers escape her lips, fragments of echoes she can't silence. Her glasses lie forgotten in the grass beside her.
Lucian approaches her with careful steps. "May I?" he asks, hands hovering near her head.
She manages a tight nod. Lucian places his fingers gently against her temples. Silver light—cooler and more subdued than the flames—seeps from his fingertips into her skin. Sophie gasps, then exhales slowly as the chaos in her mind recedes.
"I've temporarily dampened your echo sense," Lucian explains, retrieving her glasses and offering them to her. "It will return gradually as you recover your strength."
"Thank you," Sophie whispers, voice hoarse. She accepts the glasses with shaking hands.
The three teens gather closer, instinctively seeking comfort in proximity. Ava's hand finds Liam's, squeezing gently. Her other arm wraps around Sophie's shoulders, supporting her as she sways slightly on her feet.
Lucian watches them, silver eyes reflecting the last of his fading flames. His expression softens momentarily, then shifts to one of urgency.
"You're not ready," he says, the blunt assessment hitting them like physical blows. "Individually, your powers are impressive but unrefined. Against the Shadow Demon, that's dangerous not just to yourselves but to everything around you."
"We were practicing," Ava protests weakly, the pendant warm against her sternum.
"Not together," Lucian counters. "That's the key you're missing. The prophecy isn't about three separate individuals with distinct powers. It's about a union of forces designed to work in concert."
The air grows colder as night settles fully around them. The Shadow Demon's presence has faded, but a sense of watchfulness remains, as if the forest itself has eyes.
"What prophecy?" Liam asks, shadows gathering close around his feet, more controlled now but still alert, defensive.
Lucian's posture changes, becoming almost formal. His voice takes on a rhythmic quality as he recites words clearly memorized long ago:
"Three born as one, light to reveal, shadow to protect, echo to restore—only together can the Forgotten Ones defeat what feeds on memory."
The words hang in the space between them, heavy with implication.
"The Forgotten Ones?" Sophie asks, analytical mind engaging despite her exhaustion.
"You," Lucian says simply. "Those whose existence has been erased from memory. Those who stand outside the normal flow of reality." His gaze moves from one teen to the next. "What you experienced tonight was just a taste of what the demon can do. It targets vulnerabilities, yes, but more specifically, it targets connections—the tether between power and wielder, between present and past, between certainty and doubt."
Liam frowns, pieces clicking into place. "That's why it went after our families first. Our connections to them."
"And why it tried to turn our powers against us," Ava adds, fingers touching the pendant. "Breaking our connection to the one thing that makes us... visible."
"Precisely," Lucian confirms. "Your greatest strength isn't in your individual abilities—impressive as they are—but in how they function together. Light reveals what shadow conceals. Shadow protects what light exposes. Echoes restore what both have forgotten."
Sophie's eyes narrow slightly behind her glasses. "You make it sound like we're parts of a machine."
"Parts of a whole," Lucian corrects. "A balance the demon cannot comprehend or corrupt." He glances toward the darkened forest. "But we shouldn't linger here. The demon is weakened but not defeated. It will return with new strategies, new methods to isolate you."
As they gather their belongings, Sophie watches Lucian help Ava adjust her pendant. Something in his manner catches her attention—a fleeting expression as he observes Liam steadying Ava with a supportive hand, as he notes the protective way Ava checks on both her friends. For just a moment, triumph flashes across Lucian's features, quickly masked by concern. It's gone so quickly that Sophie almost believes she imagined it, but the analytical part of her mind—the part that catalogues details others miss—files it away for further consideration.
They begin the walk back toward town, following the dirt path that leads from forest to civilization. Lucian positions himself behind them, ostensibly to guard their retreat, but Sophie can't shake the uneasy feeling of being herded rather than protected. She glances back once to find his silver eyes fixed on them, moonlight catching in his gaze and reflecting back something ancient and calculating—something that doesn't match the careful concern in his voice when he urges them to hurry home.