Kael slid from the wind serpent’s back as it coiled protectively around the edge of the second isle. The grass here was dry and crackled beneath her boots. The air was still, unnaturally so — even the wind seemed afraid to breathe.

And then there was the figure.

Tall, unmoving. Cloaked in shadow despite the soft violet light of the fractured moon above. No face visible beneath the hood. Only stillness. Presence. Power.

The compass in Kael’s hand pulsed erratically — not in warning, but anticipation. The runes on her palm warmed.

She took a slow step forward.

“Are you… the guardian?”

The figure didn’t respond. Instead, it raised an arm, and the ground between them split open. Roots writhed upward, curling into the shape of a gate — two halves of a circle, carved with runes. They pulsed a dull, sickly red.

“Before you reach the stone, you must face the silence within,” the guardian finally spoke, its voice neither male nor female — and not from its mouth, but directly into her mind.

“All Stonebearers must confront their echoes. Here, in the Hollow Circle, there is no lie you can wear, no truth you can outrun.”

Kael’s breath hitched. “I don’t understand—”

But before she could finish, the guardian raised a second hand.

The roots uncoiled, and the gate opened.

A blast of cold air rushed out — thick with fog and something else. Memory.

Kael’s legs trembled. Part of her wanted to run. But her feet moved forward.

Inside the circle, there was no sound.

No wind. No birds. No breath. Just silence.

And then…

She saw herself.

A younger version — maybe ten years old — standing barefoot in the ash of the Western Woods, staring at the sky. That day. The day of the first moonfall. The day she found the compass.

“You think you’re chosen,” the younger Kael said, not moving her lips. “You think there’s something special about the pain you carry.”

Kael tried to respond, but no sound came from her mouth. In the Hollow Circle, only truth could speak.

“You left them,” the echo said. “You let Mira raise you, but you never forgave her for not being your mother. You dream of destiny because you’re terrified of being… ordinary.”

Kael’s fists clenched. Her knees shook.

The compass floated from her hand and hovered between them, glowing brighter.

The circle grew darker. The runes surrounding it began to hum.

“You want to save the world?” the echo asked. “You haven’t even tried to save yourself.”

The runes on Kael’s palm burned hot now. Her mind swirled.

But then she whispered — not from her lips, but her soul:

“I am afraid. But I’m not running.”

The echo paused. Then smiled.

The compass flared. Light erupted around her, blinding, pure.

When it faded, the echo was gone.

The roots of the circle curled back into the earth, and at the center of the clearing, the second stone rose from the ground.

This one was taller than the first — split down the middle, like the moon itself. The runes across its surface pulsed faint blue.

Kael stepped forward and laid her hand on it.

It was cold. Then warm. Then everything.

Her mind filled with images — six keepers, standing in a ring… a battle on a bridge made of stars… and a name she didn’t recognize echoing in her thoughts:

“Thirien.”

She gasped. The mark on her palm changed — another ring of runes layered over the first.

The second stone had accepted her.

Behind her, the guardian lowered its hood. For the first time, Kael saw its face — not flesh, but a constellation of stars held in human form.

“You have passed,” it said. “But the next isle will not welcome you.”

The wind serpent coiled beside her once again.

Kael looked to the horizon.

Only four stones remained. But the fractures were spreading. She could feel it in the sky.