The forest thinned as the path descended from the cliffs.
Kael spotted rooftops through the trees—small, wooden structures dusted in snow, wrapped in the scent of pine and incense. Lanterns flickered from iron hooks, and a thin ribbon of smoke curled upward from a central shrine that sat hunched at the edge of the treeline.
The village had no signs. No guards. Just stillness.
Echo stepped beside him, head lowered, but not from fear. From… reverence.
"What is this place?" Kael asked aloud.
"A boundary," Echo said, her voice brushing his thoughts. "Once, it was a place of protection. Now, it's forgotten."
Kael walked cautiously into the heart of the village. A few people looked up—elderly, wrapped in furs and layers—but no one approached him. No one smiled. No one frowned either. They simply… watched.
It was as if they didn't recognize him. Or anyone.
Echo brushed her tail against his leg.
"They do not remember," she said. "That's what keeps them safe."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Safe from what?"
She didn't answer.
At the far end of the village stood an ancient shrine, its frame blackened from time and weather. Vines crept along its surface, and the doors were cracked open, revealing a small interior chamber lined with offerings.
He stepped inside. The scent of cedar and dust greeted him.
And so did the symbol.
Carved into the altar wood—faint, almost forgotten—was the crescent eye.
Again.
This one was fractured, though. Incomplete. The lines were faded, interrupted by cracks in the grain.
he ran his hand across it, brushing away dust.
From behind him, a voice spoke.
"You shouldn't be here."
He turned.
An old woman stood in the doorway, leaning on a cane carved from yew wood. Her hair was long, silver-streaked and tangled, and her eyes… they were sharp. Unlike the others in the village.
"I'm looking for answers," He said. "About this symbol. About a man named Galen who passed through here years ago."
The woman stepped into the shrine slowly. "Many have passed. Few are remembered."
Kael pulled his father's journal from his bag. "He was researching ancient energy—what he called Amaranth."
The woman flinched at the name. Just slightly. But enough.
"You do remember," He said quietly.
The woman sat on the stone bench near the altar, motioning for him to do the same.
"When I was a girl, the monks of this mountain taught us the Old Ways. We were keepers, not of power—but of balance. They said there was a shadow beneath all things. Not evil, not good. Just hungry."
She looked to Echo. "And they said it would return… when silver walked beside memory."
Kael's chest tightened.
"Echo," he said. "You've seen this place before, haven't you?"
"I remember pieces," she whispered. "A warmth. A voice that tried to seal the shadow with words. But the words broke."
The old woman stood and ran her hand across the altar. "This symbol used to be whole. It was a key—not to open, but to close."
"What happened?" Kael asked.
"We forgot the story," she said. "We let it fade. And when no one remembers a warning, it becomes a door."
Outside, snow had begun to fall.
Kael stood in the center of the village, holding his father's journal, Echo at his side.
"She said this village was once a boundary," he murmured. "A seal."
Echo nodded. "And now it's just a pause. The storm is still coming."
Kael looked toward the mountain again.
"I think this was my father's first stop before he climbed Mt. Silver. He must've come here to ask about the seal."
He flipped open the journal again, scanning the notes. In the margins near the crescent eye were three names.
Alph. Ecruteak. Yukari.
All places Kael had now seen.
Below them was a fourth word—written in smudged ink.
"Threshold."
He tapped the page. "This is where he figured out what Amaranth was. Not a monster. Not even a ghost. A threshold. Something you cross."
Echo tilted her head. "Or something that crosses you."
Kael stared into the falling snow.
"So what's on the other side?"
Echo didn't speak for a long time.
Then: "Us."
That night, Kael stayed in an old guest room near the shrine. The room was spare but warm, and the silence outside was unnerving. No wild Pokémon. No wind.
He sat by candlelight, rereading the final journal entries, trying to match the symbols to places they'd seen.
Echo slept by the window, but her tail flicked as if she were dreaming.
Then she sat up suddenly.
Kael looked up. "What is it?"
"A presence," she said.
And then he heard it too.
Faint. Muffled. Like someone speaking through snowfall.
A voice from the dark.
"Kael…"
He stepped to the window.
In the woods beyond the village, a light flickered once.
Then vanished.
Kael's heart raced. "That was him. I know it."
"No," Echo whispered. "It was what wants you to think it's him."