Mira's light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, plunging the ruined subway car back into shadow.
No one moved. The silence was thick—the kind of silence that tastes like something ending.
Kael stared at the place where the vision had shimmered against the walls. The throne of bone. The ash crown. The Hollow Prince.
Him.
Veyra was the first to break it. She exhaled sharply, then looked away, her hand brushing the dried blood from her face. "Well… that's one hell of a future."
Lyss didn't say anything. Her hand was still clenched around her recorder—a reflex, maybe, or a defense. She hadn't looked at Kael since the image faded.
"It's not real," Kael said. "It's just a vision. A warning."
The Ticker's clockwork mask let out a long, ticking whirr.
"Prophecies are like bones, Kael Serrin. Brittle things. But they still break when you step on them."
Kael turned toward him slowly.
"You knew."
"I suspected," the Ticker replied. "Ever since the Rift refused to kill you. Echoes feed on potential. So do Hollowborn. And so does the Prince."
Kael's jaw clenched. "So what does that make me?"
"Food. Or firewood. Depending on who wins first."
Before Kael could answer, Lyss finally stood.
"You should've told us."
Her voice was sharp—sharper than Kael had ever heard it.
"You brought us here to see him. Not just the Hollow Prince, but Kael as him. You planned this. You knew Mira would show us."
The Ticker said nothing.
"And you—" she turned to Kael. "You saw it too. Felt it. That wasn't just a vision. You were there. Weren't you?"
Kael opened his mouth—and hesitated.
Because she was right.
When Mira's eyes opened and light spilled through the car, Kael hadn't just seen the vision. He'd felt it. The weight of the crown, the hunger twisting in his chest, the voices murmuring from beneath his skin like the whisper, but louder. Closer.
And the worst part?
He hadn't wanted to turn away.
He'd felt safe.
"I don't know what it was," he said finally. "But I'm still me."
Veyra grunted. "That's not how Echoes work. You don't get to decide what they take."
She was sitting up now, cradling her wounded arm. Her expression was unreadable.
"We need a plan," Kael said, forcing himself upright. "Mira showed us what's coming—but not when. Not where. If we stay down here, we're waiting to die. If we move, we might find the Syndicate. Or someone who knows how to stop this."
The stranger—the boy who had spoken before—finally stepped forward again. He hadn't said a word since Mira's revelation. Now he glanced between them with a sort of wary detachment.
"Name's Iri. I know a way out of the ruins. But you're not gonna like it."
Kael raised a brow. "Why?"
"Because we have to go through the Husk Field."
Veyra groaned.
Lyss just looked confused.
"What's the Husk Field?"
Iri shrugged. "Graveyard. For Hollowborn that got too big to kill. The Duskbound couldn't destroy them—so they buried them. Half-dead. Still dreaming. The field's quiet, mostly. Unless they wake up."
"And that's safer than staying?" Kael asked.
"Right now? It's the only road that leads beyond the city. The rest is sealed by nests or patrols. You want out? That's the path."
Kael looked at the others. Veyra nodded once. Lyss didn't.
"He's not wrong," the Ticker said. "You've seen what they're building. Cities inside nests. Farms. You're not just prey anymore. You're property. And property doesn't escape."
Kael turned back to Mira. She hadn't moved. Her face was blank, childlike. Whatever she'd shown them had taken something out of her.
He knelt beside her and placed one hand on the cage.
"Thank you."
The girl didn't answer. But one of the light threads in her sockets flickered faintly—almost like a nod.
They left an hour later.
Iri led them through the collapse, past ruptured tunnels and broken rail lines. The deeper they went, the more the air changed—less rot, more static. Kael felt it in his teeth: a tension, like the world was holding its breath.
When they emerged into the open, the sky was still dark with ash, but faint light filtered through—a false dawn, maybe. Enough to cast long, sharp shadows across a landscape that didn't look like it belonged in the real world.
The Husk Field.
It stretched for miles. Endless mounds of twisted flesh and bone, half-buried in dirt and rust. Limbs as big as trees. Empty, staring skulls the size of trucks. Veins fossilized into the cracked soil.
The group fell silent.
Veyra finally whispered, "They're still breathing."
She was right. Every now and then, a hill would shudder, subtly, like something was dreaming just beneath the surface.
"What happens if they wake up?" Lyss asked.
Iri didn't look back.
"We don't let them."