The sky above Dravemire wept oil.
Thick clouds loomed over the towers like bruises, and the rain that fell left streaks on Kael's coat that shimmered faintly in hues no natural light should produce. Dream-bleed, some called it. Pollution from the fractures between this world and the echoing realm beyond.
Kael walked through it with quiet purpose.
The silver emblem of the Shrouded Pact rested in his coat's inner pocket, cold against his chest. He hadn't decided whether to trust them—hell, he hadn't even decided if they were real—but he knew one thing for certain:
He needed allies.
If only to better understand the enemy.
---
The city was shifting.
Word spread fast in the underworld, even faster among the Forsaken. Whispers of Echo-bound mercenaries moving through zones usually left to rot. Of scavenger crews disappearing in sealed tunnels. Of a boy with a jagged mark and eyes too steady for his age—who walked into cursed places and walked out untouched.
Kael.
He was becoming a rumor.
Exactly what he needed.
---
He made his way to the Flickerwall District, where abandoned signal towers jutted from rooftops like broken teeth. The place had once connected all of Dravemire—before the first Dreamfall shattered its network, leaving static and silence behind.
Now it was a haven for smugglers, black-casters, and information peddlers.
Kael stepped into a flickering storefront lit by greenish data glyphs. A man sat behind the counter—skeletal-thin, half his skull replaced with Dream-tech mesh.
"Looking for threads?" the man asked, voice buzzing with static.
Kael nodded. "I need a name. Someone who tracks Echo fluctuations. Recent surges. Especially near the Deadveil Line."
The man blinked. His remaining eye swirled with glitching colors. "That's not cheap."
Kael placed the silver emblem of the Pact on the table.
The shopkeeper froze.
Then smiled slowly.
"Oh. You're one of hers."
Kael didn't correct him. Let the assumption work.
The man tapped a console. A hologram appeared—Dravemire's lower sectors mapped in shifting red pulses. One of the pulses surged violently in the Deadveil tunnels.
But another flickered farther east.
"Here," the shopkeeper whispered. "Four Echo surges in under two days. Not normal. Not random. That place was sealed five years ago."
Kael leaned in. "What's there?"
"A research ward. Dream-Containment Unit 17. Government ghosted it. Everyone thinks it collapsed during a rift breach. But someone's been poking around."
The hologram zoomed.
"Last person seen heading in was wearing a mirror-mask," the man added.
Kael's breath caught.
The Pact again.
They weren't just watching him. They were cleaning up something bigger.
---
By nightfall, Kael had made it to the abandoned Dream-Containment Facility 17.
Steel doors twisted from inside. Walls charred. The air reeked of etherburn—evidence of a massive Echo explosion. The kind that only came from containment breaches… or experiments gone wrong.
He stepped inside.
His footsteps echoed.
Silence enveloped him.
Then—
A whisper.
Not a voice, exactly. More like… a memory pretending to be sound.
> "Kael… Kael…"
He froze.
That voice.
It sounded like—
"Renna."
---
His heartbeat quickened.
He moved through the corridor, past shattered viewing rooms and Dream-cages cracked open. The psychic residue here was intense. Every step felt like walking through water laced with grief.
And the voice kept calling.
> "Kael… help me…"
He reached a sealed vault door. Its core glowed faintly—still powered.
The symbol etched into the metal was unmistakable: a six-pointed star wrapped in a spiral.
Pact sigil.
So they were here.
And something inside the vault was calling to him.
His mark pulsed.
Three Echoes stirred.
He could feel it again—that wrongness. A presence behind the door. Familiar. Twisted.
Kael reached for the wheel lock.
> "Don't."
The voice came from behind him.
He turned.
The masked woman from before stood in the hallway, shadowed in crimson light.
"You open that, and you die," she said flatly.
Kael didn't lower his hand.
"She's in there."
The woman stepped forward. "What you hear isn't real. It's an Echo using your memories—pulling threads from your trauma to bait you."
Kael's jaw tightened. "You know who I heard."
"I do. That's why I told you not to come alone."
She reached into her coat—and threw him something.
A small glass vial. Glowing faintly gold.
"What is this?" Kael asked.
"Sanity anchor. Cracked Dreamcore. If you're going to face what's behind that door… you'll need it."
Kael caught it, eyes narrowing.
Then turned to the vault again.
> Click.
He began to open it.
Because he had to know.
Even if it broke him.
---
End of Chapter 7