The Echo Key

Chapter Two: The Vein of Voices

Chapter Two: The Vein of Voices

Tessa wasn’t falling exactly—but the ground had disappeared beneath her, and everything tilted like a boat sliding off a wave. The moment she stepped through the door, the tunnel behind her vanished in a rush of wind and whispers.

She landed on soft earth. Or something like it.

The ground felt like velvet. It hummed faintly beneath her palms, like the low note of a cello held too long. Around her, the air shimmered as if made of breath and memory.

She sat up. The world had changed.

Above her stretched a sky like stained glass, shifting colors slowly as if dreaming. Beneath it sprawled a vast forest of glowing trees, each one lit from within—pale greens, deep blues, and soft golden hues. The trunks looked smooth, almost translucent, and when the wind blew, they didn’t rustle—they sang. Not in melodies, but in fragments of speech. Laughter. Cries. Echoes.

“The Echo Realm,” Snowball said, hopping down beside her. “You’re not dreaming.”

“I didn’t think I was,” Tessa whispered, though part of her still hoped she was wrong. “What is this place?”

Snowball sat, nose twitching. “A realm between reality and memory. A place where forgotten things gather.”

Tessa stood slowly. “Forgotten things like… old toys?”

“Old songs. Broken promises. Voices never heard. Regrets people tried to bury.” He looked up at her. “Also brooms, letters, lost keys, and yes, the occasional toy. But mostly memory.”

She turned in a slow circle. The light wasn’t sunlight, yet everything glowed softly. It felt like being underwater, except warmer. Somehow sadder.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Snowball didn’t answer. He was staring into the trees.

“They’ll come soon.”

“Who?” she asked.

“Guardians of the Vein. They don’t like new sounds. They don’t like change.” He hopped toward a narrow path between trees. “We have to move before they notice you.”

Tessa followed, heart pounding. “Are we in danger?”

“Only if you make a sound they don’t recognize.”

“What does that even mean?”

Snowball stopped. “It means you’re a new voice in an old world. And this place isn’t as peaceful as it looks.”

They walked in silence, save for the whispers around them. Every time a breeze passed, the trees echoed voices like ripples on a pond.

“Do you hear that?” Tessa whispered.

“Every Echo Realm tree holds a memory,” Snowball said. “If you listen too long, you’ll forget your own.”

Tessa blinked. “That… feels like a threat.”

“It’s more like a warning.”

They reached a clearing where a large structure stood: a house made of mirrors and wood, perched on a crooked root. The walls reflected not Tessa’s face, but other people’s—dozens of strangers blinking back at her. Some were crying. Some smiling. One looked just like her, only older.

“What is this place?”

“A Memory House,” Snowball said. “Each one belongs to someone who left something behind.”

“Who does this one belong to?”

“You,” he said simply.

Tessa froze.

“I don’t—what did I leave behind?”

Snowball tilted his head. “Maybe a promise. A person. Maybe a memory you never meant to forget.”

The front door creaked open.

Inside was dust, and silence, and a table with a single object resting on it: a small brass key, shaped like an ear.

Tessa stepped closer, drawn by something deep in her chest.

“This isn’t the Echo Key,” she said softly. “Is it?”

“No,” Snowball said. “It’s a fragment. A reminder. The real Echo Key was stolen weeks ago.”

“Who took it?”

“A group called the Forgetters. They want to erase this realm. And the real world too, in time.”

Tessa picked up the brass key. It felt heavy. Cold. Familiar.

“And I’m supposed to stop them?”

Snowball didn’t answer right away.

“Only someone who can hear the lost and remember the unheard can find the Echo Key again. That person is you.”

Tessa looked at the key, then back at the mirror-walls. The reflection of herself—the older version—was gone.

“But I’m just… me.”

Snowball’s voice was gentler this time. “Yes. You.”

Outside, the wind shifted. The trees stopped singing.

And from the shadows of the forest, shapes began to move—tall, silent figures made of smoke and ash.

“They’ve found us,” Snowball said. “Run.”