Seven days had passed since the harrowing battle in Oasis Cavern, a battle that left scars on both the land and its people. The aftermath had been swift and decisive—Oasis Cavern was no more, forcing its citizens to seek refuge among their nearest kin in Waterfall Cavern, the Mal’ak community of Enn’ary. The towering caverns, carved by time and cascading streams, stood as a sanctuary, offering not just shelter but a semblance of hope amid the devastation.
For now, the people of Oasis Cavern would share their lives with those of Waterfall Cavern. It was a temporary arrangement, but the bonds forged in these days of shared hardship and cooperation promised to last far beyond the time it would take to rebuild a new home.
On this morning, sunlight danced through the spray of the massive waterfall that gave the cavern its name. The crashing water’s thunderous cadence was oddly soothing, a constant reminder of resilience in the face of unrelenting force. Near the waterfall, on a lush, moss-covered outcrop surrounded by the vibrant greenery that thrived in the cavern’s misty air, a gathering took place.
Jazz, Leeland, Keilee, Gabe, and Kenzie stood shoulder to shoulder, forming part of the solemn circle. Completing it were the Mal’ak leaders—S’jarre, Enn’ary, Zar’iel, D’raen, Ith’iel, and Syl’arn—each standing in quiet reverence. At the center of the circle lay a marble pedestal draped in flowing white fabric, upon which rested the preserved body of Professor Mackenzie.
“I am deeply grateful that, despite the chaos and hardship, you arranged to bring my father’s body here during the escape,” Kenzie told D’raen.
D’raen nodded and said, “We are sorry that we could not find Kellan. If what we believe is true—that he passed away during the battle—the important thing is that Al’aric redeemed him before his passing.”
“We are sorry for any trouble we may have caused in Eternal Resonance,” Jazz said, and the other humans nodded in agreement, echoing his apology.
“We Mal’aks believe that everything happens for a reason,” Syl’arn replied.
Zar’iel reached into his pocket and withdrew the Resonance Key, its surface glinting faintly in the morning light. He held it up, catching the gaze of everyone gathered.
“This time, we are going to keep the Resonance Key,” he said. “May you all find peace as you return to your world. Thank you for standing with us Mal’aks in the battle.”
With deliberate precision, Zar’iel struck the Resonance Key against the edge of his gauntlet. The moment the key made contact, a low, harmonious sound resonated through the air, growing in intensity as the key vibrated with energy. The sound swelled, intertwining with the faint hum of the waterfall behind them, and a shimmering portal began to form.
Before they could step forward, the group exchanged their last farewells. With a final, lingering look at the gathered Mal’aks, they gently lifted the body of Professor Mackenzie. Together, they entered the shimmering portal, the glowing gateway offering a passage back to their world, while the Mal’aks watched quietly.
* * *
The morning light filtered softly through the canopy of palm trees, casting dappled patterns on the ground. Gentle ripples spread across the crystal-clear ponds, their surfaces mirroring the lush greenery that surrounded them. The air was warm, carrying the faint, earthy scent of damp soil and fresh leaves. Oasis Cavern was alive with serenity, its beauty undisturbed, as if untouched by the chaos of battle.
Jazz walked slowly, his footsteps light against the soft grass beneath him. He paused, taking in the scene with a growing sense of unease. The vibrant greenery and the tranquil ponds were exactly as he remembered them, as if the destruction that had befallen the cavern had never happened.
A frown crept onto his face. “Why am I here?” he murmured to himself. “And… how is this place still standing?” The question lingered in his mind, tugging at the edges of his awareness. Then, like a flash of clarity, it struck him—this wasn’t real. It was a dream.
As the realization settled in, Jazz turned his gaze toward the cavern’s far walls. There, amid the shadows and sunlight, a figure emerged—a familiar one. His heart gave a sudden, unsteady jolt. It was Lyra.
But something was wrong. Her usual warmth, the charm that always seemed to radiate from her, was gone. Instead, her expression was solemn, her movements slow and deliberate. She stood there, almost ethereal in the surreal landscape of the cavern, her eyes distant as if she wasn’t entirely herself.
As a resonant, Jazz had grown accustomed to lucid dreaming—it was part of his initial training. Over time, he had learned to recognize the signs of a dream and assert control over them. Realizing this was no different, he steadied himself, ready to force himself awake.
But before he could act, the world around him shifted abruptly. The bright, serene morning in Oasis Cavern dissolved into darkness, like ink spreading through water. The palms, ponds, and greenery wilted, replaced by the charred remnants of the cavern as it had been left after the battle. The air grew heavy with the acrid smell of smoke and ash, and the faint sounds of dripping water turned into a haunting silence.
His gaze darted to the spot where Lyra had been, but his heart lurched as he froze in place. She was gone. In her place stood a corrupted Mal’ak, its towering figure wreathed in dark, pulsing energy. Its fiery green eyes burned with an intensity that made Jazz’s breath catch, and an unnatural aura seemed to radiate from its armored frame. Jazz felt his stomach twist. He didn’t recognize this creature, but every instinct in his body screamed danger.
A sudden voice broke through the suffocating tension. “Fallback, Enn’avy!” someone shouted, the voice sharp and desperate. Jazz turned his head quickly and saw Enn’ary, his familiar countenance grim and urgent as he gestured wildly toward the tunnels.
“Why is he calling me Enn’avy?” Jazz muttered, bewildered, but the urgency in Enn’ary’s voice left no room for hesitation.
“Fallback, Enn’avy!” Enn’ary repeated, his voice now a desperate plea.
Jazz hesitated for only a moment longer, his confusion giving way to instinct. He turned and sprinted toward the tunnels alongside Enn’ary. The echoes of their hurried footsteps and the faint roar of the corrupted Mal’ak behind them filled the air, but Jazz didn’t dare look back.
As they ran deeper into the tunnel, the surroundings began to change again. The oppressive darkness lifted, replaced by a faint, glistening light ahead. The sound of rushing water grew louder with every step until they emerged, not into the cavern’s depths as Jazz had expected, but into the open expanse of Waterfall Cavern.
As Jazz steadied himself, his gaze was drawn to a mesmerizing sight ahead. Six female Mal’aks stood in a perfect circle, their elegant forms illuminated by an otherworldly glow. Each of them had hair that shimmered with a distinct hue—yellow, blue, green, brown, red, and white.
Their hands hovered above the stones, graceful and deliberate, as if performing an intricate ritual. Streams of light in the same color as the stones arced upward, connecting the glowing orbs to their hands. The Mal’aks moved their hands in synchronized, weaving motions, as though they were crafting something unseen yet profoundly important.
From behind Jazz, the soft sound of footsteps broke the stillness. He turned his head to see someone approaching—a figure radiant with light, his presence commanding and otherworldly. It was Al’aric, his former glory fully restored. The glow that surrounded him seemed almost alive, shifting and shimmering with an intensity.
“They are weaving the most powerful Echo,” Al’aric said, his voice calm yet filled with purpose as he came to stand beside Jazz. Without another word, Al’aric began to walk toward the circle of weaving Mal’aks.
Jazz watched in silence as the light emanating from the six stones grew brighter, their individual hues beginning to converge at the center of the circle. The air vibrated with the energy of their combined resonance, and Jazz could feel the power gathering like a storm ready to break.
Al’aric stepped into the center where the streams of light collided, their intensity almost blinding. He raised his hand and hovered a single finger over the swirling mass of energy. A thread of brilliant light emerged from his fingertip, merging with the vortex at the center.
In an instant, the collected energy exploded outward in a flash of blinding light, forcing Jazz to shield his eyes. When the light began to fade, the cavern was quiet once more, save for the lingering hum of energy in the air.
Al’aric turned to look at Jazz, his glowing form still radiating with power. “You still have a mission on earth, Jazz,” he said, his tone resolute.
Jazz’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice cautious.
Al’aric’s gaze sharpened, his expression somber. “At’tar is coming.”
Jazz woke with a jolt, Al’aric’s words still echoing in his mind. Turning his head, he glanced at his watch—it read 8:00 p.m.
It had been a week since their return to Earth. His heart skipped a beat as panic set in; tonight was the funeral service for Professor Mackenzie, and he was already late.
* * *
After about an hour, Jazz arrived at the memorial chapel. A few people were leaving as he stepped inside, their subdued murmurs adding to the somber atmosphere.
The room was quieter now, with only a handful of people remaining. Jazz spotted familiar faces among them—Marvin and Lilly Rosco speaking softly near the entrance, and a few others gathered around Mrs. Leafmir, Professor Mackenzie’s grieving wife.
As Jazz took a step forward, he saw Kenzie approaching him, his expression warm despite the circumstances.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the service,” Jazz said apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure if I forgot to set my alarm or just slept too deeply.”
“It’s okay, Jazz,” Kenzie replied with a small, understanding smile.
“How was the service?” Jazz asked, glancing around the room. “Do people believe the story? You having amnesia and getting lost, and the Professor’s accident?”
Kenzie let out a soft sigh. “I think people are buying it,” he said. “But honestly, I wish we could tell the truth. I want people to know how my father really tried to save me.”
Jazz nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I get it. But our made-up story is a lot more plausible than the truth. I mean... who would believe all the things that happened to us?”
“Did Leeland, Keilee, and Gabe make it to the service?” Jazz asked.
Kenzie nodded. “Yeah, they were here. But they left about fifteen minutes ago, right before you arrived.”
As Kenzie spoke, his attention shifted to the door. He spotted a few familiar faces walking into the memorial chapel. “Excuse me for a moment,” Kenzie said, his voice a little distant as he turned toward the newcomers. “These are some of my professors from the College of Music.”
Jazz gave a slight nod, offering a casual, “Sure thing.” He watched Kenzie move off and then turned his attention to the people arriving. That’s when he spotted someone he hadn’t noticed earlier—a familiar face sitting near the back corner. It was Lyra.
Her eyes met his, and she gave a small wave, a subtle smile playing at the corners of her lips. He waved back and started making his way toward her.
Jazz sat down beside Lyra, offering a gentle smile. “It’s been a while.”
Lyra looked at him, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. “Was it a month ago?” she replied thoughtfully. “The last time we saw each other?”
Jazz chuckled lightly. “I think I’ve lost track of time, to be honest.”
Lyra’s expression shifted slightly, her curiosity piqued. “The story that was told…” She hesitated, then added, “I’m one of those people who aren’t buying it.”
Jazz froze, caught off guard. He didn’t know how to respond at first.
“I told you before,” Lyra continued, her voice low, “I know something’s odd with all of you.” She paused, searching his face for a hint of the truth. “I’m trying to tie up the story. Most of the people involved here are musicians, and what connects them is that they all have perfect pitch.”
Jazz felt a tightness in his chest as her words sank in. Lyra’s brow furrowed as she pressed on. “Wait... do you have perfect pitch?”
“I do, actually,” Jazz answered, almost reluctantly. “After an accident.”
Lyra’s eyes widened slightly, then softened in understanding. “So I’m right. Even my dad has perfect pitch, though his is half a step lower now.” She met his gaze. “Do you still not want to tell me the whole story?”
Jazz sighed, his voice heavy with regret. “Honestly, I wish I could,” he said quietly. “But the fact that your parents don’t want to tell you... that tells me I shouldn’t.”
Lyra let out a soft sigh, her gaze drifting for a moment. Then, she gave a light-hearted smile, trying to ease the tension. “Yeah…” she said with a shrug. “For all I know, I could actually really join your team.” She grinned teasingly. “I do have perfect pitch too, if you didn’t know.”
As Lyra spoke, Jazz suddenly remembered his dream—the image of Lyra standing in the Oasis Cavern, her solemn expression haunting him. His heart pounded in his chest, the connection between the dream and the present moment unsettling.
* * *
Ka’reth walked through the desolate caverns of the fallen Oasis. A faint smile tugged at his twisted lips, a quiet satisfaction in his every movement.
Soon, he entered a dimly lit room where At’tar stood, his presence commanding and ominous. Ka’reth dropped to one knee, his head bowed in reverence. “My lord, I bring good news.”
At’tar’s gaze shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What is it?”
Ka’reth opened his right hand slowly, revealing a glowing brown stone resting within his palm.
At’tar stood quickly, his eyes locking onto the stone with recognition. “An Echo Stone?”
Ka’reth’s smile deepened. “Yes, my lord.” He rose to his feet and extended the stone to At’tar.
A smile began to stretch across At’tar’s face, cold and triumphant. “Bring me a weaver at once.”
As Ka’reth turned to leave, At’tar’s voice dropped to a whisper, dark and filled with malice. “Al’aric, I will make the humans you love suffer…”
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