Echoed Lands

Jerry sighed, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight as he looked at Colm. "We got word about the undead attack on the caravan you encountered. It didn't sit right with me. That sort of thing doesn't happen, not that far north. Not unless something bigger is stirring." He paused, jaw tightening. "And... well, Lira's the only one reckless and powerful enough to pull something like that off." He trailed off, letting the name hang in the air like a curse.

Colm's brow furrowed. "Okay, but seriously, who the fuck is Lira?" he asked, stepping forward. "She said her name was Lira Lorn." His voice dropped, sharpened. "And when she looked at me... it was like she was familiar with me."

Jerry's lips parted as if to respond, but instead, he exhaled, a long, tired breath, and lowered his gaze, the silence between them growing heavier. Whatever words he wanted to say were buried too deep.

It was Dorian who finally spoke, his tone quiet but resolute. "That's... a hard topic," he said. Colm turned to face him as he continued. "Lira was one of us. And I don't just mean some acquaintance, I mean one of us." He motioned to himself, Ves, and Jerry. "Back when the Shift happened, when the system appeared, we were all there. Changed by it. Fighting to survive. And Lira?" A wistful smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. "By the gods, she was incredible."

He chuckled softly and jabbed an elbow into Jerry's ribs. "And, somehow, she saw something in this brooding bastard here before everything went down and they were married long before I met them."

Jerry huffed, eyes still fixed on the fire as stillness reigned, the weight of the words echoing in Colm's head.

Jerry's voice finally broke the stillness. "She was my wife. Once upon a time," he said, the words heavy with grief. "Whatever she is now... that's not the Lira I knew."

A somber quiet passed through the group.

"I've lost track of how long it's been," Dorian added, shaking his head. "Maybe... one hundred and fifty-five years?"

"One hundred sixty-two years, eight months, and thirteen days," Jerry cut in bitterly, his voice rough.

Dorian nodded, unfazed. "Right. That day still feels fresh in a way. We thought we were unstoppable. We had a town behind us, dozens of others just as strong, well, almost as strong," he added with a small grin. "We set out to clear the isle of the undead. And gods... we nearly did."

His voice dropped low, somber. "But then he came. Like a blur of death. Everything changed at that moment."

He wiped out most of us in an instant," Dorian said, his voice low, haunted. "Only the four of us could stand against him. And when I say stand, I mean it took everything, every ounce of coordination, every ability working in perfect sync, just to match him. We didn't overpower him. We survived him. Bit by bit, we whittled him down."

Colm frowned, the weight of the story pressing on him. "Wait. Who's him?"

Dorian inhaled slowly, nodding as if expecting the question. "To explain that... you need to understand something first. Sometimes, when someone turns, if they're strong enough, they keep their mind. But it's not really them. It's twisted, warped by death and whatever dark force binds them."

He paused, eyes distant. "Lira... she was one of those. One of the strongest I've ever seen."

He looked up at Colm again. "There's a handful of these sentient undead scattered across each isle. Each powerful in their own right. But there's always one above the rest. We call them the Paragon. The Paragon is the strongest undead presence on the isle. And he was the Paragon."

"We killed him," Dorian continued. "Barely. Fighting a Paragon is like fighting other undead. One mistake, one cut, and it's over, but the scary thing is they're smart, strong and fast. They always have the advantage. Despite that, we managed it."

He looked toward the fire. "Lira dealt the final blow... but it cost her everything. A great sacrifice."

"She didn't sacrifice herself!" Jerry snapped, voice suddenly sharp. His body tensed, fists clenched at his sides. "She was reckless. I told her not to. I begged her. And she still did it."

His voice broke slightly before he exhaled, the anger fading into something colder: sorrow. Silence followed.

Dorian nodded slowly, unshaken. "Aye. That you did," he said quietly, continuing without pause. "Jerry took a nasty hit. Would've been dead if not for his shadows protecting him. Just as the Paragon was about to end him... we pulled him out."

He turned to Colm again. "We were retreating. We knew we couldn't win. But Lira... she saw something, a moment, a chance. She stepped in. Became the bait. Drew that bastard in close. And just as he lunged, she cut his head clean off."

A pause.

"But it came with a cost," Dorian said, eyes narrowing. "One we still carry to this day."

He crouched, poking at the fire absently. "The thing about the Paragon undead, Colm... their infection isn't like the others. It's as if it's pure. Unfiltered. If they cut you, just once, it takes hold immediately. No chance to resist. No delay."

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His voice dropped. "Lira couldn't dodge his last strike. The Paragon had a final trick up his sleeve. Caught her off guard, caught all of us off guard. So when she killed him..." Dorian looked up, his expression grim. "She became the next Paragon of the isle."

He stood and gestured outward, as if the world itself would answer for it. "And that," he said, voice heavy, "is the truth behind the woman who attacked."

The fire crackled softly.

Jerry stared into it, unmoving. Under his breath, barely audible, he whispered, "That's not my Lira... not anymore."

Silence settled over the group like a shroud as Colm tried to process the weight of the story. "Undead Paragons," he thought. "One on every isle... and other sentient undead too, not as strong, but still deadly. If they're even half of Lira's level, I'm already dead ten times over."

He exhaled slowly, the sheer scale of it all pressing against his chest like a weight. Looking up at Dorian, he asked, "How many isles are there in the Echoed Lands? How many Paragons?"

Dorian let out a breath, shaking his head. "Too many. Too many to count. We still don't even know how many isles exist. The world expanded with the Shift, grew vast, fragmented, chaotic. Most of us are just trying to survive, maybe thrive if we're lucky, in this gods-forsaken world."

"Lira," Colm said quietly, his gaze drifting to Jerry, catching the man's reaction at the mention of her name. His eyes flicked up, just briefly.

"She said something," Colm continued. "Something disturbing."

Ves cut in with a dry tone. "Yeah—that she brought you here?"

Colm's eyes widened. "Wait—how did you—?"

Ves smirked faintly. "You yelled it out earlier, remember? Whole dramatic scream thing?"

Colm rubbed the back of his neck, flustered. "Right… yeah. Sorry."

After a pause, his voice grew serious again. "Do you know why? Why me? She said it was pure luck but that's hard to believe."

The fire crackled.

It was Jerry who finally answered, his voice devoid of emotion, flat, as if he were working through a formula. "We don't know, kid. She was quiet for a long time. Too long. We should've known she was planning something. Plotting."

He sighed, eyes still locked on the flames. "We don't even understand how she did it, reached across the veil, used magic to pull someone from another world. But somehow, she managed it. Even in undeath, she's still a step ahead of us. Hell, we didn't even know there were other worlds before you."

He paused, then added with unsettling clarity, "What we do know is this: she needs you. We don't know why, and we don't know for what, but the fact that she weakened herself to bring you here and even further to retrieve you? That's the only reason we were able to fight her at all."

Jerry's eyes finally met Colm's. "Whatever her reasons... we can use that. You're the variable now. Maybe even the key."

"Here's the thing, Colm," Jerry began, his tone turning more serious, "for the undead, especially the powerful ones, they rely on the death energy built up in the cursed zones around each isle. It fuels them, sustains them. If they leave that zone, they weaken. Their connection to that energy fades the farther they move from it."

He paused, glancing toward the edge of the campfire's light. "So for Lira to come after you here? That took a lot out of her. The strain must've been immense. But because the location is close to the edge of her cursed zone, she was able to come herself. Not just send her lesser thralls or husks, those things don't require as much energy to operate outside the zone.

Jerry leaned in, eyes serious. "Here's the terrifying part. Given enough time, a strong undead can create a new cursed zone, build it from scratch. It's rare, though. Doing it weakens them badly. Leaves them vulnerable. That's why they usually stay rooted, protect the one they've already got."

He exhaled through his nose. "But back to the point. She needs you. That much is clear. Which means you need to stay the hell away from her cursed zone. As far as possible."

Jerry stood up, brushing off his hands. "So, once we're out of here, we're heading straight back to Brimhope. And from there, I'm personally guiding you to the best spots to grow stronger, fast. We'll get you ready. Got it?"

Colm nodded quickly, gulping. "Got it."

Jerry raised an eyebrow and looked around. "Speaking of... where the hell are we?"

Dorian chuckled. "Honestly, I've been meaning to ask that too, but it didn't really feel like the right time."

Colm muttered, "Ah, right, sorry." He scratched the back of his head, searching for a place to start. "So, uh... remember the sentient Echo I mentioned, Jerry?"

Jerry let out a long, dramatic sigh and slowly facepalmed. "I remember. And..." He paused, glancing around with growing realization as the environment began to register. "No. No, you did not just bring us into a sentient Echo."

Dorian burst into laughter, clapping Jerry on the back as the grumbling man muttered something under his breath, while Ves chuckled from where he sat. "The balls on this kid!" Dorian exclaimed as Jerry groaned, rolling onto the ground with an exasperated shake of his head.

"You remember what I told you about these things, right?" Jerry said, lifting a brow at Colm. "If it wanted to, it could squash us like a damn bug."

Colm chuckled nervously. "I know, I know, but we didn't have much of a choice. You said it yourself, we wouldn't have made it if we stayed. So this..." He shrugged. "It was the best option I had. And besides, the Will of the Grove seemed... pretty chill, honestly."

"The Will of the Grove?" Ves raised an eyebrow.

Colm nodded. "Yeah. When I was finishing the challenges it laid out, it appeared to me in a kind of humanoid form. It talked, actually talked, told me what it wanted. Said it just wanted to see the land thrive. Life. Balance. It even gave me a way to come and go freely after one final test."

Jerry groaned louder, slumping further down onto the grass. "Of course it has a humanoid form too..."

Dorian cackled at that, clearly enjoying the show.

"Well," Ves said thoughtfully, "that's... particular. A sentient Echo that just wants growth and harmony? That's a new one."

"I'll be damned," Jerry muttered. "Kid, you got really fucking lucky."

Colm rubbed the back of his head again, a habit that was starting to feel a little too natural. "Yeah... I can open the way out whenever you all are ready. Only catch is, it'll drop us right where we left. So, your call."

Jerry pushed himself up with a grunt. "Yeah, I think we've stayed long enough. Time to move."

Dorian and Ves stood and nodded in agreement, both turning to Colm.

"Ready when you are, kid," Jerry said. "We've been here long enough. With luck, Lira's gone by now."

Colm nodded, centering himself. He focused on his Portal to the Lucent Grove, and as he did, the familiar drain of energy rushed through his body like a current preparing to carry them all back.