Chapter 4 THE WEIGHT OF THE ECHO

The cellar beneath the old mill was cold and damp, the air thick with the scent of mildew and earth. Clara sat with her back against the rough stone wall, the glowing orb cradled in her lap. Its faint blue light cast flickering shadows across the small space, illuminating Harrow's furrowed brow as he pored over his leather book. The whispers from the orb had quieted, but their presence lingered in Clara's mind, a constant hum that felt both comforting and unsettling.

Above them, the floorboards groaned under the weight of the shadowy creatures, their guttural growls vibrating through the wood. "They know we're here," Clara whispered, her voice barely audible over the creaking. Her hands tightened around the orb, its warmth a small anchor in the growing storm of fear. Harrow didn't look up from his book, his finger tracing a line of faded text. "They can sense the echo," he said grimly. "It's what they've been after since the fractures started. Whatever's in that orb, it's the only thing keeping them from tearing this village apart." Clara glanced at the orb, its surface rippling like a pond disturbed by a pebble. The vision of Lila Hensley-her great-great-grandmother-still lingered in her mind, the words echoing like a warning: *The fractures feed on fear.* She swallowed hard, trying to push down the panic rising in her chest. "What are they, Harrow? These... things?" Harrow closed his book with a soft thud and met her gaze. "They're the fractures made manifest. The prophecy calls them 'Echoes of the Broken'-pieces of the past that were never laid to rest. A hundred years ago, when Lila faced the last egg, she stopped the fractures, but she couldn't close them completely. Some of the darkness lingered, trapped in the earth, in the river... waiting for the next egg to wake it up." Clara's stomach churned. "So they're... what? Ghosts?" "Not exactly," Harrow said, his voice low. "They're more like memories-memories of pain, fear, destruction. When the fractures open, they take form, feeding on the emotions of the living. That's why they're coming for the echo. It's the only thing that can seal them away again." A loud *crack* echoed from above, and dust rained down from the ceiling as the creatures slammed against the mill's door. Clara flinched, her heart racing. "We can't stay here," she said, standing up and clutching the orb to her chest. "They'll break through eventually." Harrow nodded, his face pale but resolute. "You're right. We need to get to the old shrine at the top of Harrow's Hill. It's where Lila sealed the fractures last time. If the echo is the key, that's where you'll need to use it." Clara hesitated, the weight of the task pressing down on her. Harrow's Hill was a steep climb, and with the river flooding the village and the creatures hunting them, the journey would be dangerous. But the growls above were growing louder, and she knew they had no choice. "Let's go," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. Harrow led the way to a small trapdoor at the back of the cellar, its rusted hinges creaking as he forced it open. A narrow tunnel stretched into the darkness, its walls slick with moisture. "This leads to the edge of the village," Harrow explained. "It's an old escape route from the last fracture. Should get us out without them seeing." They crawled through the tunnel, the orb's faint glow lighting their way. The air was stale, and the sound of dripping water echoed around them, but the growls of the creatures faded as they moved farther from the mill. Clara's knees ached against the rough stone, but she kept going, the orb's warmth urging her forward. The whispers started again, soft and insistent, and she strained to understand them. This time, she caught a single word: *Courage.* When they emerged from the tunnel, they were at the northern edge of Eldermoor, near the base of Harrow's Hill. The village below was a scene of chaos-floodwaters had swallowed half the streets, and the shadowy creatures roamed through the wreckage, their glowing eyes scanning for the orb. Clara's heart clenched as she saw the bakery where Mrs. Tully had stood earlier, now half-submerged, its sign floating in the murky water. "We need to hurry," Harrow said, his cane sinking into the muddy ground as he started up the hill. Clara followed, her boots slipping on the wet grass, the orb tucked safely inside her coat. The climb was grueling, the wind whipping at them as they ascended, but the higher they went, the more the whispers from the orb seemed to guide her, their tone almost urgent now. Halfway up the hill, Clara stopped to catch her breath, glancing back at the village. The creatures had spotted them-three of them were moving up the hill, their watery forms gliding over the terrain with terrifying speed. "Harrow!" she shouted, pointing. He turned, his face hardening. "Keep going, Clara! I'll slow them down!" "What? No-" she started, but Harrow was already pulling a small pouch from his coat. He sprinkled a fine, silvery powder across the ground, muttering words under his breath that Clara couldn't hear. The powder sparked, creating a thin, shimmering barrier that flared to life as the creatures approached. They hissed, their forms recoiling from the light, but Clara knew it wouldn't hold them for long. "Go!" Harrow yelled, his voice firm. "I'll meet you at the shrine!" Clara hesitated for a moment, then turned and ran, the orb's whispers now a steady chant in her mind: *Courage. Courage. Courage.* The path to the shrine was overgrown, thorny bushes snagging at her clothes, but she pushed through, her lungs burning. When she finally reached the top, the shrine came into view-a small, ancient structure of weathered stone, its roof long gone, open to the stormy sky above. She stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. At the center of the shrine was a circular stone altar, its surface etched with symbols that matched the ones in Harrow's book. The orb in her hands pulsed brighter, as if recognizing the place. Clara set it down on the altar, and the whispers stopped abruptly, replaced by a single, clear voice-Lila's voice. *"The echo is your strength,"* Lila said, her words resonating in Clara's mind. *"Use it to face the fractures. But beware-they will test you."* Before Clara could respond, the ground beneath the shrine trembled, and the shadowy creatures broke through Harrow's barrier, their growls echoing up the hill. They were coming for her-and for the echo. Clara's hands shook as she stared at the orb, its light now a brilliant blue, illuminating the shrine like a beacon. She didn't know what to do, but she knew one thing for certain: the fractures wouldn't stop unless she made them. The creatures reached the shrine, their glowing eyes fixed on her, and Clara braced herself, the orb's light flaring brighter as the battle for Eldermoor began.