Amara stood beneath the cold spray of the infirmary shower, steam curling around her as she let the water cleanse the last of the night's pain. Her legs were weak, her soul raw, but she was free—or so they thought.
The chapel still trembled, like a living thing haunted by memory. It had taken everything to kill the god, to sever the link between them. Yet something inside her didn't feel... empty. It felt watched.
Wrapped in a white robe, she returned to the common room where Elara sat with a steaming mug of tea. She looked up and smiled when she saw Amara, but that smile was strained.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
"No nightmares this time," Amara replied. "But I still hear something. Not words—just… breathing."
Elara stiffened. "What kind of breathing?"
"Like someone watching me sleep."
Nyla entered, holding a scroll with frayed edges and ancient ink. Her expression was troubled.
"I need to show you both something," she said, unrolling the parchment on the table. "I went back into the crypt this morning. The god's essence was gone, yes. The vessel—the echo—it was broken. But this… this was carved into the altar stone."
Elara leaned in. Her eyes widened. "This is Celestial script."
Amara frowned. "What does it say?"
Nyla looked her straight in the eyes. "It says, 'The Echo Survives.'"
A silence fell between them like a veil.
Amara clenched her fists. "I destroyed her. I saw her scream. I felt it."
Nyla shook her head. "You destroyed the locket—the tether. You severed the god's anchor in this world. But the echo was more than just a shadow. It was made from you. It might still exist… in another form."
Elara stepped closer to Amara, her voice low. "You said it looked like you. Exactly like you?"
Amara nodded. "Same eyes. Same scar on the chin. Same everything."
"Then it is you. A version that remembers the god. That still holds a piece of it."
Nyla's voice was grave. "If that echo survives, it will find a way back. It could be a threat worse than the god itself. Because this time… it has free will."
Amara's breath caught.
Suddenly, the idea of freedom felt like a lie.
Later that evening, a cold wind swept through the school halls. The candles flickered. The shadows stretched longer than they should. Elara and Amara walked through the corridors, speaking in whispers, making plans to locate the echo. They had to be ready.
Then, they saw her.
Down the hall, near the old library window—a girl.
Slim frame.
Long black hair.
Wearing Amara's uniform.
Back turned to them.
"Elara," Amara said, voice trembling. "Do you see her?"
"Yes."
The girl turned her head slowly.
Her face was identical to Amara's—but her eyes glowed white.
Then she vanished.
Gone like smoke.
They ran to the spot, but there was no sign.
No footprints.
No scent.
Just chill.
"She's already here," Amara whispered. "Watching us."
Nyla joined them, out of breath. "The wards have weakened. I sensed something breach them."
"She knows where I sleep," Amara said. "She is me. She remembers everything."
That night, Elara stayed with her in her dorm, dagger close, hand holding Amara's tight.
But across the campus, near the garden fountain, the echo stood in the moonlight, humming a lullaby Amara hadn't sung since she was six.
And behind her, in the reflection of the water—
A second figure appeared.
Smiling.
Waiting.
The god may be gone.
But its children were just beginning to wake.