Twelve hours into the trial, Dan Bass had learned one thing about the Tidebound Echo.
It never stopped.
It didn’t tire. It didn’t slow. It didn’t even seem to understand the concept of exhaustion.
Every time Dan managed to put some distance between them, the creature simply reformed and continued the chase. It squeezed through gaps in the stone barely wide enough for a hand, flowed down sheer rock faces like rainwater, and somehow always found him again.
By the fourth hour, Dan had abandoned any hope of actually losing it.
Now, survival was all that mattered.
He searched for narrow passages where the Echo’s shapeless body was forced to compress, using the terrain to slow it down. Every chokepoint bought him a few precious minutes. Every minute mattered.
Ten hours had passed, his body had begun to protest violently.
His muscles burned. His lungs felt raw. Even his legs, already strengthened by years of swimming and hunting, trembled beneath him. Worse, the air inside the mountain was painfully thin compared to the open waters he was accustomed to.
Dan dragged himself through another narrow gap and collapsed against the opposite wall for barely a second.
’Seventy-two hours.’
He forced himself upright.
’Sixty more.’
Behind him came the familiar sound of water shifting against stone.
It was coming.
Dan clenched his teeth and kept moving.
The cave he stumbled into sometime after the twelfth hour was different from the others.
The tunnels he’d crossed so far were nothing more than natural formations. Jagged rock, narrow passages, uneven floors. They reminded him of the caves where his tribe had lived for years.
This place had been made.
The walls were smooth, almost polished, with faint grooves carved into the stone. Strange patterns twisted across them in deliberate shapes, curling into symbols that reminded Dan of the pictographs Fish Leader had once scattered throughout their old home.
He slowed.
At the center of the chamber sat a shallow basin carved directly into the floor.
It was filled with water.
Yet there was no source feeding it.
The water simply rested there, glowing with a faint blue light.
Dan’s eyes widened.
He knew that color.
It was almost identical to the glow produced by Koi’s first spell on the night the flood had taken him.
At the center of the basin rested a smooth, dark stone.
It was roughly the size of a clenched fist, its surface strangely polished despite appearing ancient.
Dan stared at it.
Something about the relic drew him forward.
Not fear.
Not curiosity.
Hunger.
A deep, instinctive pull that reminded him of the feeling he experienced when his stomach was empty and he knew food was nearby.
Behind him, the distant sound of rushing water grew louder.
The Echo was getting closer.
Dan approached the basin anyway.
He crouched and slowly reached out.
His finger touched the stone.
Pain exploded through his body.
Dan’s eyes widened.
It wasn’t the dull ache of exhaustion. It was sharp, absolute, and overwhelming, shooting outward from his chest as though something had reached inside him and seized his very bones.
He tried to scream.
Nothing came out.
His vision turned completely blue.
Then, just as suddenly, the pain vanished.
Dan dropped onto one hand, breathing heavily.
For several seconds, he simply remained there.
Then he noticed something.
His arm looked different.
Thicker.
Not dramatically so, but enough that he could tell immediately.
The muscles beneath his skin sat differently against his bones, more compact and defined than before. When he flexed his fingers, a faint sheen appeared across his skin.
Blue-green.
Almost like scales.
Dan stared.
His entire body felt heavier, but not in the way exhaustion made him heavy.
This was different.
He felt denser.
Stronger.
As though every part of him had been quietly reforged while he wasn’t looking.
Then the shadows moved.
Dan immediately turned.
Three figures stepped out from the darkness surrounding the chamber.
They resembled Murlocs only vaguely. Their bodies were humanoid, but their forms remained translucent and unstable, constantly shifting like water struggling to maintain a shape.
They didn’t speak.
Yet Dan understood them.
The words appeared directly inside his mind.
Wanderer.
You now carry the Fragment.
What it has given you is raw. Unshaped. Untested.
Before you can strike, you must learn to carry what you have become. Before you can defend yourself, you must possess the strength to endure your own power.
Even the sharpest blade is useless in hands too weak to wield it.
Dan swallowed.
His body still hurt, but he forced himself upright.
"How much time do I have?"
The nearest spirit tilted its head.
Less than you would like.
A pause.
But enough, if you stop wasting it by asking questions.
Dan stared at it.
Then he nodded.
"Fine. Teach me."
They started with his legs.
Dan thought that was cruel.
He’d already spent twelve hours running for his life, and now these spirits expected him to exercise.
But this wasn’t running.
They made him move slowly.
Painfully slowly.
Long, controlled lunges across the chamber floor.
He had to lower himself until his thighs were nearly parallel with the ground, hold the position, then rise and repeat the movement.
Again.
Again.
Again.
His legs began trembling within minutes.
Then they gave out.
Dan hit the floor.
He pushed himself back up.
They made him do it again.
And again.
And again.
Speed is worthless without a foundation.
One of the spirits watched impassively as Dan collapsed for what felt like the tenth time.
You ran for twelve hours on legs that were never built for such movement.
Now we build the legs first.
Dan gritted his teeth.
"Then build them."
The spirits continued.
They had him brace both palms against the chamber wall and hold his body at an angle until his arms shook violently.
When he collapsed, they made him start again.
Then came the basin.
Dan crouched beside it, gripped the stone edge, and hauled himself over.
Once.
Twice.
Ten times.
Twenty.
The sharp edge scraped against his forearms until the skin broke.
Dan hissed through his teeth.
He kept going.
The Fragment’s power worked silently beneath his skin, repairing the damage almost as quickly as it appeared. Each repetition made him a little stronger. Each failure gave his body another chance to adapt.
There was nothing graceful about the process.
No elegant martial forms.
No spectacular displays of power.
Just repetition.
Fail.
Fall.
Breathe.
Rise.
Try again.
At some point during the third hour, Dan realized something.
He had stopped failing as quickly.
His legs held for another second.
Then another.
His arms lasted several repetitions longer before giving out.
The movements were becoming easier.
Barely.
But they were improving.
Good.
For the first time, the spirit’s voice carried something resembling approval.
You feel it.
Dan wiped sweat from his brow.
’Feel what?’
Not power.
Foundation.
Power without foundation is nothing.
Dan looked down at his hands.
The faint blue-green sheen across his skin seemed slightly brighter now.
He understood.
This wasn’t about becoming stronger overnight.
It was about creating a body capable of holding whatever strength came later.
The lesson was simple.
The execution was brutal.
Eventually, even the Fragment’s strange reinforcement couldn’t keep up with his exhaustion.
Dan collapsed onto his back.
He couldn’t move.
His entire body felt like it had been hammered into shape.
Yet strangely, the pain felt good.
Not the desperate pain he’d experienced while running from the Echo.
This was different.
Satisfying.
Earned.
He could feel the change in himself without needing any strange display or notification to confirm it.
His bones felt sturdier.
His muscles responded faster.
His breathing was steadier.
His entire body seemed more tightly connected, as though something that had always been loose inside him had finally been fitted into place.
The frame he’d carried into the trial had been rebuilt.
Not completely.
But enough.
The chamber’s blue light gradually dimmed, casting long shadows across the ancient walls.
Rest.
The spirits turned away.
Tomorrow, you learn to strike.
Dan closed his eyes.
For the first time since the flood had torn him away from his home, he allowed himself to relax.
He might actually survive this.
He might even come out stronger than he had ever imagined.
Then, somewhere beyond the chamber walls, came the sound of water.
Soft.
Patient.
Searching.
The Tidebound Echo was still hunting him.