The Echo Gate
The fog rolled over the abandoned harbor like a living thing, swallowing streetlamps, swallowing silence. Few people ever walked there after midnight—except for Elara . Something had been calling to her for weeks, a whisper threading through dreams, a pulse beneath reality. That night, she stepped onto the cracked wooden pier, lantern in hand. A cold voice drifted from behind her. “You heard it too.” Elara didn’t turn. “Simster… I knew it was you.” The djinn materialized from the mist, his form stretched thin like smoke trying to remember it once had bones. “The Echo Gate stirs again.” A second presence rippled the air. Desins appeared beside her, his golden aura dimmer than usual, as if the fog were feeding on its light. “Something is crossing,” he said softly. “Something that should not.” Elara tightened her grip on the lantern. “Why call me? What can I do?” Simster tilted his head, listening to a whisper only he could hear. “Because the world beyond carries your name t...