Ethan collapsed on the floor, just before Lyra could reach him, the sound of his body hitting the wooden boards echoed in the room. Outside, a fierce storm roared, the wind rattling the windows like an intruder demanding entry.

“Ethan!” Lyra rushed to his side, her heart racing. Blood stained the floor, dark and thick, gushing out from the wound that throbbed like it had a life of its own.

“I didn’t… want to bring this to you,” he murmured weakly. “But they’ve already found you.”

“Who? Ethan, what do you mean by that?”

He gazed up at her, his eyes growing dim, his lips bringing out words from a distant memory. “The Council… They want to erase us. All of us. The Whisperborn.”

Lyra froze, the word hitting her like a chill, awakening something deep inside her. She pressed her hands against his injury, feeling a warm, silvery light flow from her palms into his wound. Ethan gasped but didn’t move away.

“You’re healing me…” he whispered in amazement.

She wasn’t sure how it was happening; it felt natural, as easy as breathing. Her hands moved confidently, even though she felt uncertain about it just moments before.

“You left the pendant,” she said as the light faded.

“I knew you’d find it.” His breathing became steadier. “And I knew when you touched it, they’d start watching you.”

Lyra sat back, trembling, feeling scared “What am I? What are we?” she asked.

Ethan leaned against the wall, his eyelids heavy but his gaze fixed on hers. “The Whisperborn are more than just stories. We’re the last of a line connected to the ocean, a group of people who can hear things others can’t. The sea remembers everything, and it calls to those willing to listen.”

She swallowed hard, the truth cutting through her denial. “My mother… she was one of them?”

Ethan nodded. “She was the strongest among us. She believed we could live in harmony with the Murkborn, the ones who live in the deep cities. But the Council never forgave her for what she tried to do.” 

“What did she try to do?”

“She sought to close a gateway.”

Lyra frowned. “The gateway from my dream?”

Ethan's voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s not just a dream. That gateway is real. It separates our world from the Hollow Deep. If it opens again… they’ll come.”

“Who will come?”

He looked directly into her eyes. “The Forgotten Ones. The first Whisperborn. They were too powerful, too wild, too brutal. The sea cast them away, sealing them beneath the waves.”

Lyra shivered. “Why would anyone want to bring them back?”

“Because power is tempting. And someone in the Council wants more than control, they want to rule over us. They’ve already sent hunters.”

A sudden knock on the door broke the tension.

They both froze.

“Get up,” Lyra whispered urgently, helping him to his feet. “I have to hide you.”

He winced in pain but nodded, slowly regaining his strength. She led him to a small pantry, covering him with a blanket.

Another knock sounded.

Then a voice called out. “Lyra Raven? This is Officer Tryst from the Vermila Watch. May I speak with you?”

Lyra’s heart raced. She opened the door slowly to find a tall man in a gray coat with unsettling blue eyes.

“Miss Raven,” he said politely, “have you seen a stranger nearby? We’ve had… sightings. Dangerous ones.”

She forced a smile. “I haven’t seen anyone, sir. Is something wrong?”

His gaze briefly scanned the room behind her. “There are reports of illegal sea channelers coming into town. We’re doing our best to manage the situation.”

“Of course.” She nodded quickly. “I’ll notify you if I see anything.”

He handed her a black stone. “Press this if you hear anything unusual. The Watch will come.”

Then he turned and walked away.

Lyra closed the door and locked it tight.

“Ethan,” she hissed, pulling off the blanket. “That was not a regular officer.”

Ethan sat up, his expression serious. “Tryst. He’s one of the Council’s hunters. They’re after me… or maybe us now.”

Lyra clenched her jaw. “Then we need to leave.”

He looked at her, surprised. “You don’t have to do this.”

She met his gaze fiercely. “They hunted my mother and lied to me. If they think I’ll just sit back and let them silence me, they’re mistaken.”

Ethan gave a faint smile. “You’re just like her.”

They waited until nightfall.

The town of Vermila settled into its usual calm—boats docked quietly, lanterns glowing warmly in windows, and the scent of the sea wafting through the air.

Lyra packed a small bag and took her mother’s journal, the pendant, a map, and a dagger that her aunt, had warned her never to use unless it was absolutely necessary.

She left a note for Aunt Renna: I’ll come back. I promise.

Ethan guided her through hidden paths and alleys until they reached the cliff’s edge overlooking the sea.

“There’s a secret inlet,” he said. “A place only the Whisperborn know. We’ll be safe there… for now.”

They carefully descended the cliff using old fishing trails. When they reached the water’s edge, Lyra gasped, a boat crafted from dark driftwood, tied with ropes that sparkled like moonlight.

“It’s called a soul vessel,” Ethan explained. “Made with memories and sealed in silence. The Council can’t track us in it.”

As Vermila disappeared behind them like a fading dream, Lyra sat next to Ethan, feeling the warmth of her pendant against her chest.

“Where are we heading to?” she asked softly.

“To the Isle of Echoes. It’s the last place where the Whisperborn community remains.”

She gazed out at the distant horizon, the wind tousling her hair. Her heart was heavy with fear, yet filled with a newfound determination.

For the first time in her life, she wasn't just hearing the whispers around her.

She was choosing to follow them.