He couldn't sleep.
Not after that.
Not after the flames.
Not after the beast's final breath had faded into the dark, leaving a silence that pressed against his bones like a tombstone.
Aelric sat cross-legged in the abandoned maintenance quarters beneath the Academy's West Wing, the place where the forgotten were sent to rot—Nullborns, the unclean, the misfit scribes who hadn't earned a place among the gifted. His breathing was shallow. His body ached. Dried blood still crusted over his tunic where the creature had struck him.
And in the centre of his chest, where his heart should've just beaten—something pulsed with heat. Faint. Rhythmic. Like the heartbeat of another thing… another presence.
The Codex.
It no longer hid in the satchel.
It no longer needed to be read.
Now it spoke.
The first words came like a ripple through still water—calm, patient, ancient.
"You lived."
Aelric stiffened. "You're… awake."
"I was always awake. But now, you are."
He blinked. "You're in my head."
"We are bound. By blood, by breath, by battle. You struck first. You remembered. You killed. And so now… You listen."
The voice wasn't human.
It wasn't mechanical either.
It was layered—multiple voices in harmony and conflict, like a choir torn between worship and rebellion. Male and female. Young and ancient. Light and shadow. It shifted with every sentence, never the same twice.
Aelric swallowed, staring at the floor. "Why me?"
"Because you were born unbound. Because they wrote you out of history. Because the ley-lines themselves denied you… and because you did not die when the gate opened."
A pause.
Then:
"You broke the first seal. And now the world remembers."
Aelric's hands trembled.
He looked at his palm—the mark was still there. The Null sigil burned faintly with violet light, a symbol of the impossible. Not a curse. Not a scar.
A key.
"What did I awaken?"
"Something they tried to bury. A story older than bloodlines and crowns. A truth older than magic."
"You awakened me."
"You awakened choice."
The Codex's voice shifted—calmer now. Reflective.
"Long before the Six Dominions ruled, there was only the Echo.""Magic was not hoarded in towers or gifted to blood. It was shared. It responded to memory, to will, to grief and love and rage.""And then they cut it. Severed the Source. Bottled it in blood. Crowned themselves as gods. Called the rest of you 'Nullborn.'"
Aelric clenched his jaw. "I've seen glimpses… in the slab. In the Warden's eyes. But it doesn't make sense. If this was known… why doesn't anyone remember?"
"Because they made you forget. Not just in books. In your bloodline. In your lineage."
"You are not the first Sovereign. But you may be the last."
Aelric leaned back against the stone wall.
His ribs ached.
The silence pressed harder than the voice.
"Then what now?" he asked. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Survive. Learn. Remember. And when the time comes, choose."
"I offer you a path. Not power gifted. Power earned."
"You are no longer bound by the laws of mana. You walk the system of Echo."
A new glyph flared behind Aelric's eyes—visible only to him, burned into the fabric of his mind.
[Eclipse Codex: Sovereign Protocol — Version 0.1 Initiated]
Active Echoes: 1
Awakened Gate Anchors: 1 of 3
Mimic Slots: 1/3 filled
Codex Sync: 16%
Threat Level: Ascending
Next Protocol: Infiltration
Aelric exhaled shakily. "I'm not ready."
"No Sovereign ever was."
"But you have done what few dared. You listened."
"You survived your first kill. And with it, you inherited the consequence."
"You are being watched."
That made him freeze.
"By who?"
The Codex was silent for a moment.
Then the voice came again, softer now. Wary.
"Inquisitors. Dreambinders. The Chainborn.""But one walks within the Academy already. Unseen. Ancient. Cloaked in rites that even I struggle to track."
"They will not recognise you immediately. But when you use your Echo again, they will."
Aelric's blood turned cold. "Then I'll hide."
"No. You'll learn to wear a mask."
He pushed himself to his feet, pacing the narrow room. Every nerve in his body itched. Every shadow felt like it had eyes.
He didn't ask for this.
He never wanted to be more than what he was—a scholar, maybe. A quiet boy with forgotten dreams. Not a myth. Not a weapon. Not some Sovereign echo of a fallen age.
But now…He couldn't go back.
"You said I could choose."
"Yes."
"What if I choose not to fight?"
Silence.
Then:
"Then others will die for you. Others will burn. And you will watch."
"Power is not a crown. It is a knife. You may sheath it or use it. But you cannot pretend it does not exist."
Aelric closed his eyes.
He saw the Nullborn boy he had found, burned from within.
He saw the beast—the Warden—its final breath released in peace.
He saw the slab, the gate, the truth sealed in divine symbols.
And he made a choice.
"I won't let them write us out again."
The Codex purred, almost fondly.
"Then rise, Aelric. Rise not as a boy forgotten… but as a Sovereign remembered."
A knock echoed against the door.
Aelric tensed.
It was still early. Before sunrise.
Too early for students.
Too late for the staff.
He opened the door.
No one was there.
But a piece of parchment had been pinned to the wall with a black nail.
On it—no words.
Only a symbol.
The same broken circle he had seen at the Nullborn murder site.
Except this one was bleeding.
The Codex whispered one last time before silence returned:
"The Hunt has begun."