The forest was alive with night sounds—the chirp of glowing beetles, the wind brushing the silver leaves, the quiet crunch of twigs under cautious feet. Althea, Keal, Lyssa, and the younger omegas moved quickly but carefully, weaving between towering roots and moonlit rocks.

  They didn’t speak.

  The memory of the scout’s unconscious body still echoed in their minds, and Althea couldn’t shake a heavy feeling sitting in her chest.

  “Are we almost at the ridge?” Althea whispered.

  Keal nodded. “Just past those trees. The cave is hidden between two cliffs. No one will find us.”

  No one.

  Althea wanted to believe that.

  They continued forward until the trees suddenly thinned into open space. A long valley stretched ahead, with the ridge glowing faintly under the night sky. The path felt too quiet… too still.

  Lyssa tugged on Althea’s sleeve.

  “Something’s wrong.”

  Althea looked around. “What do you sense?”

  Lyssa’s silver hair flickered in the moonlight, her brows tightening. “A presence… It’s been watching us since the forest.”

  Keal stiffened. “Another scout?”

  “No,” Lyssa replied. “Something else.”

  They froze as the sound of rustling came from behind them—slow, deliberate, and coming closer.

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  Althea felt her pulse rise. She stepped forward, grounding her feet the way Lyssa taught her, hands ready, even though her barrier training had been… inconsistent.

  The rustling stopped.

  Silence.

  Then—

  Crunch.

  A figure emerged from the trees.

  Tall. Hooded. Moving with unnatural grace.

  “Stay behind me,” Althea whispered, even though her throat was tight.

  The figure lifted their hands slowly, palms open.

  “I’m not here to harm you,” a voice called out—calm, smooth, but echoing faintly, as if layered with something… not human.

  Keal hissed. “Who are you? Show your face!”

  The figure pulled back the hood.

  A young man, silver-skinned, eyes glowing faint purple—neither omega nor anything Althea recognized. His expression was unreadable, almost sad.

  “I’ve been following you,” he said, “because someone else is following me—and you are not safe.”

  Althea narrowed her eyes. “Who sent you?”

  “No one,” the stranger replied. “I was escaping just like you. I was held by the same people who took your friend.” His gaze flicked to Althea. “The one you call the scout… He wasn’t your enemy.”

  A cold heaviness hit her stomach.

  “Then why did he attack us?” Keal demanded.

  “He didn’t,” the stranger answered softly. “He was running from the same hunters chasing me. You interrupted… and they marked you too.”

  Lyssa stepped closer. “Marked?”

  The stranger nodded, lifting the sleeve of his cloak. A faint, glowing symbol pulsed on his arm—shifting shapes, like smoke trapped under glass.

  Althea felt her breath catch.

  She had seen that symbol before.

  Once.

  Just once.

  The moment before she was sucked into the console.

  Her throat tightened. “What… what do you want with us?”

  “To help you escape,” the stranger said, voice low. “Because the ones chasing you are not guards or creatures or Threshold scouts…”

  He looked each of them in the eye.

  “They’re Lords.”

  Keal staggered back. “The Lords? From the Great Council?”

  “Yes,” the stranger replied. “Malachor. Roland. Galaxia. Netheron… and their allies from the other Threshold Realms.”

  Althea’s heart dropped.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  The stranger’s purple eyes burned brighter.

  “Because you aren’t supposed to exist here.”

  A wind tore through the valley then—violent and cold. The trees bent, the ground vibrated, and the sky dimmed as if something enormous passed overhead.

  Lyssa grabbed Althea’s arm. “They’re here!”

  The stranger raised his hands. “You must move—now. The ridge isn’t safe anymore. They know you’re heading there.”

  “Then where do we go?” Althea asked, fear mingling with determination.

  The stranger pointed to the distant mountains—dark, stormy, crowned with blue lightning.

  “To the Citadel of Echoes,” he said. “It’s the only place where their sight cannot reach you.”

  Althea swallowed.

  She didn’t know who he was.

  She didn’t know why the Lords wanted her.

  And she didn’t know what she was becoming.

  But the wind behind them roared again, and she made a choice.

  “Fine,” she said, steadying her breathing. “Lead the way.”

  The stranger nodded, eyes glowing brighter as he turned.

  Then, softly—as if it truly mattered—he added:

  “My name is Kaelen. And if you want to survive… trust me.”

  They ran.