A silence settled over the battlefield, thick and suffocating. The entity's words hung in the air like an unbroken echo, reverberating inside Echo's skull.
Elliot.
The name felt foreign like a distant whisper from a life that wasn't his. Yet, the way it rolled off the entity's tongue, so certain, so absolute, made his stomach churn.
Everyone was staring. The soldiers, the summoned undead, even the wraiths that hovered in the distance.
Who was this man?
And more importantly why did he know a name that Echo himself did not?
The entity stepped forward, its movements eerily graceful. With every step, the ground beneath it cracked, unable to withstand its mere presence.
Echo forced himself to stand his ground, but his body screamed at him to run. His instincts, honed through battle and hardship, told him this wasn't a foe he could simply fight.
But that wasn't what scared him.
What terrified him down to his very core was the way the entity looked at him.
