ECHO

Twelve hours from now, someone would decide whether the last six months of my life had been enough.

I’d been repeating that sentence to myself ever since the plane landed. It was easier than thinking about the alternative.

I only had one shot.

No second attempt.

I stepped through the arrival gate of Evan Ross International Airport, Aeryn’s largest, wearing such a stern expression that passersby couldn’t help but stare.

The sign found me before I even had to look for it.

A black card. Silver lettering. My full name, spelled correctly. It shouldn’t have surprised me, and somehow it did.

ELIAS OSA.

“Elias Osa?”

The man holding the sign looked to be in his forties, his suit pressed sharply enough to cut glass. Standing beside him was a woman dressed almost identically, wearing the same immaculate uniform and carrying herself with the same practiced posture, as though they’d rolled off the same assembly line. Neither of them smiled the way people do when they’re genuinely happy to see you. They smiled because smiling was simply part of the job.

“That’s me.”

I shifted the strap of my duffel bag higher onto my shoulder, suddenly aware of how little I’d packed compared to whatever they’d been expecting.

“Wonderful. Right this way.”

Before I’d even decided whether to hand it over, the woman had already reached for my bag.

“It’s your first time in Concord, right?” the man asked as his colleague loaded my luggage into the trunk.

I nodded and climbed into the back seat.

“Yeah. My family never really took many vacations, so I spent most of my life in Asnau, my hometown. On the rare occasions we did travel, we usually stayed up north.”

“Would you like a guided tour, sir?” he asked as he started the engine. “All applicants are required to arrive at the Aurelian by ten o’clock tonight, so you still have about forty minutes. We’re at your disposal until then.”

Ten times out of ten, I would’ve said yes.

This was my first time in Concord—the capital of Aeryn, a city I’d dreamed of visiting for as long as I could remember.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t managed to get a minute of sleep during the five-hour flight from Sourne. Every ounce of excitement I felt was outweighed by exhaustion. Right then, all I wanted was to collapse into a bed and get as much rest as I could before tomorrow.

“Maybe another time,” I said with an apologetic smile. “I really need the sleep before tomorrow, but thank you.”

“No trouble at all, sir.”

For the rest of the twenty-minute drive from the airport, I found myself glued to the window.

Concord was unlike anything I’d ever seen.

The streets pulsed with traffic beneath towering glass skyscrapers that stretched endlessly into the night, their countless lights reflecting off one another like stars trapped between steel and concrete. The city felt impossibly alive, as though every building, every street, every passing train was moving to the same invisible rhythm.

Two buildings dominated the skyline above all the rest.

The first sprawled across several city blocks, a colossal complex of gleaming glass and white stone whose sheer size dwarfed everything around it. It wasn’t the tallest building in the city, but it was unquestionably the largest.

The second was impossible to ignore.

A solitary black tower pierced the skyline, impossibly slender and so tall its peak disappeared into the darkness above. Near its summit, illuminated in stark white letters, were two words.

THE AUTHORITY.

Even from miles away, the tower carried an unsettling presence, looming over Concord like a silent reminder of who truly held power.

“We’ve arrived, sir. I hope you enjoy your stay, and best of luck in the trials,” the driver said as the car rolled to a stop.

I looked out the window.

The sprawling skyline had given way to the most extravagant hotel I’d ever laid eyes on. It was the kind of place that looked far too luxurious for ordinary people to simply walk in and book a room—the kind where the price of a single night probably exceeded what most families earned in months. Marble columns framed the grand entrance, while towering glass windows bathed the lobby in a warm golden glow.

My gaze slowly climbed the façade until it reached an enormous sign mounted high above the entrance.

THE AURELIAN.

The bellhop opened the car door before I had the chance to reach for the handle.

“Welcome to the Aurelian, Mr. Osa.”

“Thanks.”

As I stepped out, he handed me a polished silver tray. Resting neatly beside my room key was a small paper bag filled with sun-shaped gummies.

I froze.

They were the exact ones I’d loved as a kid.

I hadn’t bought them in years. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d mentioned them to anyone.

And I definitely hadn’t mentioned them to anyone I’d met tonight.

I picked up the bag and turned it over in my hands, searching for something. A brand. A manufacturer. An expiry date.

Nothing.

It was completely blank.

It looked less like something that had come from a factory and more like something that had simply appeared.

“Everything alright, sir?” the woman asked. She was already halfway back to the car.

I looked up.

“Who put these here?”

“They came with your reservation, sir.”

“From who?”

She hesitated.

Just for a fraction of a second.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have that information.”

Before I could ask another question, she had already turned and walked away.

I stood there for another moment, the bag still in my hand, before making my way inside.

The lobby looked as though it had been designed specifically to make people feel underdressed.

Polished marble reflected the warm golden light pouring down from a ceiling so high it almost disappeared from sight. Hotel staff glided across the floor in perfect silence, silver gloves catching the light as they moved without ever colliding with one another or a guest. It felt rehearsed—as though every step had been choreographed long before I’d arrived, and I was the only one who hadn’t learned the routine.

Near the entrance, a group of Authority officers crossed the lobby.

Almost instantly, three different conversations around me dropped to whispers.

Ever since Anacrusis awakened, crowds had never really surprised me.

There was always a quiet hum somewhere at the edge of my awareness a constant sense of where people were, how they moved, what they carried into a room before they ever opened their mouths.

Without thinking, I reached for that feeling.

Nothing unusual.

Just nerves.

Everyone here already seemed to understand rules I hadn’t even learned yet.

The receptionist greeted me by name before I had the chance to introduce myself.

Check-in was over almost before it began.

By the time I stepped into the elevator, my thoughts had narrowed to two things.

A hotel full of strangers who somehow already knew who I was

and a bag of gummies that had no business being here.

let myself into the room, the door clicking shut behind me with a soft thud. For the first time since landing in Concord, I heard silence.

The trial suit was waiting for me on the bed.

All black. No trim. No crest.

When the admissions office had asked for any preferences, I hadn’t known what to put. Apparently, that meant I’d get exactly nothing extra.

I left it folded where it was and collapsed onto a bed that felt like it had never once been slept in by someone who actually needed the rest.

Without thinking, my hand slipped into my jacket pocket.

The gummies were still there.

Still unexplained.

My phone buzzed.

The same two names it had been my whole life.

Imani: checked in yet??

Mom: LOOK AT THAT HOTEL. Elias baby send a picture

Me: it’s insane here. marble floors. i think the ceiling has its own weather system

Mom: are you eating enough

Me: mom

Imani: he’s fine mom he’s probably already found the minibar

Me: i haven’t touched the minibar i’m serious about tomorrow

Mom: you’ll be great baby. you always are

Me: feeling good about it

I put my phone down before either of them could ask something I’d have to answer honestly.

Feeling good about it was true.

It just wasn’t the whole truth.

I decided to explore the hotel for a bit. Maybe I’d stumble across something that hinted at tomorrow’s trials.

Instead, I found myself on the second floor, where a man built like he’d been designed to walk through walls was pulling a stumbling stranger back onto his feet.

I felt it before I understood what I was looking at.

A sharp pull behind my sternum.

Aggressive.

Wrong.

My body reacted before my brain did. My hand shot toward the man’s wrist, some old instinct six months of training was supposed to have beaten out of me.

Then I actually looked.

He wasn’t grabbing the stranger.

He was steadying him.

The man laughed, patted his shoulder in thanks, and continued on his way without a problem.

The big man noticed my half-raised hand and looked from it to my face.

Calm.

Almost amused.

A few nearby guests glanced over.

Not enough to make a scene.

Just enough to make my ears burn.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah. Sorry. I thought…”

The explanation died before I could finish it.

He’d already moved on.

As he passed me, he offered one last smile—the kind you give someone who’s just done something mildly embarrassing.

I smiled back anyway.

Mostly because it was less embarrassing than standing there looking like an idiot.

Mostly because I was trying very hard not to think about what had just happened.

Anacrusis had been wrong.

Completely.

For the first time since it awakened it had misread someone.

I couldn’t stop wondering how many mistakes like that tomorrow would stop being funny.

The answer was probably one.

I decided to keep exploring the hotel. If tomorrow’s trials were anything like I’d imagined, there was no way I was going to sleep anytime soon anyway.

Following a few signs through the corridors, I eventually found myself back at the elevators, curious to see what was happening on the rooftop.

The elevator was empty.

Then it wasn’t.

One second I was alone.

The next, a girl was standing beside me.

She couldn’t have been much taller than 165. Dark hair. Clothes so painfully ordinary they almost drew attention by trying not to.

I hadn’t heard the doors open.

More importantly…

I hadn’t felt her.

For six months, Anacrusis had warned me about every person who entered my space. Every handshake. Every argument. Every sparring partner. It had become so natural that I’d stopped noticing it.

Until now.

Nothing.

Not a flicker.

Not even the faint awareness that someone else was standing beside me.

It felt like discovering I’d gone blind in one eye without realizing it.

“Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

I stared.

She smiled politely, as though nothing about this was unusual.

The elevator came to a stop.

The doors slid open.

She stepped out without another word.

Only after they closed again did I realize I’d been holding my breath.

I eventually stepped out on the top floor and followed the staircase leading to the rooftop.

The rooftop was loud in the particular way a crowd of nervous applicants trying to look relaxed is loud.

Small groups were scattered across the terrace beneath strings of warm lights, conversations overlapping as they admired Concord’s skyline. Some people laughed louder than they probably felt. Others leaned against the railings in silence, pretending tomorrow wasn’t on their minds. Nearly everyone wore the same black trial suit, their numbered badges the only thing setting them apart.

Without really thinking about it, I drifted toward the quieter edge of the rooftop.

Someone had already claimed the spot.

A girl with long cyan hair that fell past the middle of her back. A football rested beneath one foot as she looked out over the city.

A pale flicker raced along her leg, and for the briefest instant, her cyan hair glowed with a brilliant light.

Then the ball was already flying toward me.

High.

Fast.

Thinking would’ve been too slow.

My body moved before my mind did.

My hand shot out.

The ball stopped dead against my palm.

“Nice reflexes,” she said, sounding more pleased than surprised, like she’d been testing something and gotten exactly the answer she expected. “I’m Sora.”

“Elias.”

My voice came out steadier than I felt.

Her eyes flicked to the badge clipped to my chest.

“Number forty?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She looked back up with a smile, as though the word hadn’t meant anything at all.

“You nervous? For tomorrow?”

“A little more than I was an hour ago.”

“I can’t say I am.”

She shrugged.

“You’ll see tomorrow. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

I let out a quiet laugh.

“Feels like everyone here already knows something I don’t.”

Something shifted behind her eyes.

Gone before I could make sense of it.

“Get some sleep, Elias.”

Before I could ask what she meant, she turned her attention back to the skyline, gently rolling the football beneath her foot as though our conversation had naturally reached its end.

I glanced toward the gathering near the bar, where the hotel had organized an informal meet-and-greet for the applicants.

I skipped it.

I told myself it was because I wanted to be sharp tomorrow.

By the time I made it back to my room, the hotel had grown noticeably quieter.

The muffled conversations in the hall had faded, replaced by the distant hum of elevators and the occasional click of a closing door. One by one, the other applicants were calling it a night.

I slipped my keycard into the lock and stepped inside.

The room was exactly as I’d left it.

Almost.

A cream-colored envelope rested neatly on top of the folded trial suit.

My name was written across the front in clean black lettering.

ELIAS OSA

No room number.

No stamp.

Just my name.

I slipped a finger beneath the seal and unfolded the single sheet inside.

THE NATIONAL HARMONIC INSTITUTE OF CONCORDOffice of Admissions

Congratulations, budding flowers.

If you are reading this, it means you have been selected to take part in this year’s Harmonic Trials, a privilege extended to only forty applicants worldwide from the many thousands who applied. Whatever tomorrow holds, know that simply arriving here tonight already sets you apart.

Please review the following before you rest.

Tomorrow’s Schedule

8:30 — Lobby Assembly 8:40 — Departure via Harmonic Courier 8:50 — Arrival at the National Harmonic Institute of Concord

Please arrive in the lobby no later than 8:30, dressed in your trial suit with your trial badge visibly worn. Failure to appear by this time will be considered a voluntary withdrawal from this year’s Trials.

What to Bring

Your trial badge, worn visibly at all times from this point forward.

Nothing else is required, and nothing else will be permitted. Your trial suit has been prepared to meet every requirement of Phase One. Personal belongings, including electronic devices, should remain in your room. You will find them where you left them following the conclusion of the Trials.

A Note on Phase One

You will not need a weapon.

You will not need a plan.

Phase One asks only one thing of every applicant:

Show us, clearly and honestly, what your Echo can already do.

We look forward to meeting you.

— Dr. Halvad ReyesOffice of Admissions

I read the letter again.

Then a third time.

Not because I’d missed anything.

Because one sentence refused to leave my mind.

Show us, clearly and honestly, what your Echo can already do.

I let the letter fall onto the bed.

Forty applicants.

By tomorrow evening…

…there would be fewer.

I picked up my trial badge.

40.

I turned it over once between my fingers before clipping it back onto the folded suit.