In a continent where breathtaking magic births both wonders and horrors, Kael, a gifted but low-born mage, receives a terrifying prophecy: the world is dying, but telling anyone brings the apocalypse closer. With only his raw talent and a ragtag band of unlikely allies, he must master forbidden magics and navigate treacherous politics to save Elyndor, all while bearing the crushing weight of a secret he can never share.

**EXT. SALT FLATS - CERULEAN WASTES - DAY**

Sunlight fractures through colossal, humming CRYSTAL SPIRES taller than mountains, casting living rainbows (AURORAS) across blinding white salt. KAEL (17, sharp eyes, worn clothes, an air of watchful exhaustion) carefully chips glowing shards from a smaller crystal formation with a chisel.

KAEL (V.O.)

> Elyndor. Land of impossible light... and impossible shadows. They say magic birthed this place. The crystals singing, the sky-whales migrating in storms... all wonders spun from raw arcana. Trouble is, magic's a double-edged sword. Where it pools thickest... the Gloom follows.

Kael flinches as a distorted SHADOW detaches from the crystal's base – a skittering, multi-legged thing like obsidian glass. He stomps, shattering it. It dissolves into acrid smoke.

KAEL (V.O.)

> Gloomspawn. Parasites. They feed on the magic itself. And they're getting stronger. Worse? Nobody important seems to notice. Or care. Down here... we notice.

He stuffs shards into a worn sack. A harsh VOICE barks.

**BRASK (O.S.)**

> Hey, gutter-spark! That yield better be worth my time!

Brask, a thick-set Overseer, approaches, flanked by two thugs. Kael tenses.

**KAEL**

> (Forcing calm)

> Standard haul, Overseer Brask. Pure cerulean shards.

Brask snatches the sack, peers in dismissively.

**BRASK**

> Barely covers your pit-tax, boy. You owe for the tools, the lease on that hovel you squat in... Tell you what. Work the Deep Vein tomorrow. Double shift. We'll call it square.

**KAEL**

> (Alarmed)

> The Deep Vein? That’s unstable! Last week, a tremor birthed a Shade Swarm that took three men—

**BRASK**

> (Shoves Kael)

> Or I find someone who *can* pay. Maybe your granny loses her cot in the Warrens. Choice is yours, "spark."

Brask tosses a single copper coin at Kael's feet and walks off, laughing. Kael watches him go, fists clenched, raw magic flickering unconsciously around his knuckles – a brief, unstable shimmer of light. He quickly quells it, fear replacing anger. He pockets the coin, shoulders slumped.

**EXT. WHISPERWOOD EDGE - DUSK**

Kael navigates the eerie beauty of the Whisperwood. SILVER-BARKED TREES chime softly. LUMINOUS FOXES dart through undergrowth. He's foraging rare herbs to sell for extra coin. Suddenly, the chime turns discordant. The light dims unnaturally.

**KAEL**

> (Muttering)

> Not good. Not here...

A SHADE DRIFTER oozes from pooled shadows beneath a giant, glowing TOADSTOOL – bruised twilight flesh, three light-eating pits for eyes, whip-like tendrils tipped with bone hooks. It senses Kael and lunges silently.

Kael dodges, scrambling back. He draws a simple knife – useless. He focuses, trying to summon light. Magic sparks erratically around his hands, unstable. The Drifter lashes a tendril, grazing his arm. Pain flares, cold and numbing.

**KAEL**

> (Gritting teeth)

> Come on... focus!

A WHISTLE cuts the air. A FLASH of steel. A SUNSTEEL DAGGER embeds itself in the Drifter's main body. It shrieks silently, recoiling. LYRA (18, agile, practical leathers, sharp eyes) drops from a silver branch, landing lightly.

**LYRA**

> Knife's no good against shadow-flesh, sparky! Sunsteel or fire!

She yanks her dagger free. The Drifter reforms, enraged. Kael, seeing her distraction, channels his fear and frustration. Raw power erupts – not controlled light, but a concussive WAVE OF FORCE. It slams the Drifter back, shattering the giant toadstool. The Drifter shrieks, dissolving into smoke faster than before.

Lyra stares at Kael, wide-eyed, wiping Gloom-slime from her dagger.

**LYRA**

> Whoa. Okay. That was... not subtle. Or sanctioned. You alright?

**KAEL**

> (Breathing heavily, shocked at his own power)

> Yeah... thanks. You saved my hide.

**LYRA**

> Lyra. Relic scout. Or was, until my last patron decided paying was optional. You? Besides being surprisingly explodey?

**KAEL**

> Kael. Miner. Sometimes forager. Mostly... broke.

**LYRA**

> (Nods at his worn clothes)

> Figured. That raw punch... you ever had training?

**KAEL**

> (Shakes head, defensive)

> No. It just... happens. Badly.

**LYRA**

> Badly? You just vaporized a Shade Drifter with pure will. That's not bad, Kael. That's terrifying. And useful. Look, I'm heading to the Petrified Vale. Rumors of a Warden's Cache. Could use someone who can... discourage the local wildlife. Split whatever we find fifty-fifty?

Kael hesitates. The Vale is dangerous, but it's also away from Brask and the mines. He remembers his grandmother's frailness. He needs coin.

**KAEL**

> ...Fifty-fifty. Deal.

**EXT. PETRIFIED VALE - NIGHT**

The Vale is breathtaking – forests turned to luminous crystal, glowing with internal light. But corruption is evident: patches of sticky darkness cling to spires, obsidian barnacles pulse on some formations. High above, a corrupted CRYSTAL DRAKE with fractured, shadow-oozing scales circles a distant spire.

**LYRA**

> (Consulting a worn map)

> Cache should be near the central spire. Stay sharp. Gloomspawn love these energy-dense spots. Especially after dark.

**KAEL**

> (Looking at the Drake)

> How does something like that... happen?

**LYRA**

> Same way the little ones happen. Magic festers. Gets hungry. Corrupts what it touches. The stronger the wonder, the bigger the shadow it can cast. Ley-lines run thick under this whole valley.

They navigate treacherous crystal paths. Kael feels a strange PULL, a resonance deep within him. He sees flashes – not of the Vale, but of CRACKING CONTINENTS, OCEANS BOILING, A SKY SHATTERING LIKE GLASS. He staggers, clutching his head.

**LYRA**

> Kael? What is it?

**KAEL**

> (Voice strained)

> Nothing... just dizzy. The light...

They reach a crevice at the base of the central spire. Lyra points.

**LYRA**

> There! The cache!

Inside a small hollow rests a weathered STONE CASKET etched with ancient Warden symbols. As Kael touches it, the visions return, overwhelming. The world ENDING. A crushing sense of DOOM. A desperate KNOWING floods him: *This will happen. Soon.*

A deep, resonant VOICE echoes *inside* his mind, not his own:

**THE VOICE (V.O.)**

> *The Heart of Elyndor weakens. The Gloom rises to consume all. You are the Echo, the unforeseen resonance. You See the End. But speak of this Knowing, child of shadows, and the threads of fate unravel faster. Silence is your shield... and your burden. Seek the Fonts. Mend the Heart. Or all is dust.*

The vision snaps. Kael gasps, collapsing to his knees. Lyra rushes to him.

**LYRA**

> Kael! Talk to me! What happened?

Kael looks at her, terror in his eyes. He *needs* to tell her. The weight is crushing. He opens his mouth.

**KAEL**

> Lyra... the world... it's—

A searing PAIN lances through his skull, worse than any physical injury. The ground trembles violently. Above them, the corrupted Crystal Drake SCREECHES, a sound of pure agony and rage. A large chunk of the crystal spire SHEARS OFF, crashing dangerously close.

**LYRA**

> (Pulling Kael up)

> Forget talking! RUN!

They scramble away as the Drake dives, breathing a stream of corrosive shadow, not at them, but in blind fury at the spire itself. More crystal shatters. The tremors intensify.

**EXT. PETRIFIED VALE - RIDGE - NIGHT**

Kael and Lyra crouch behind a ridge, watching the Drake wreak havoc below. The tremors subside slightly. Kael is pale, shaking.

**LYRA**

> What in the seven storms was *that*? You touched the casket and... the whole Vale nearly came down! And that Drake went berserk! What did you *do*?

Kael remembers the Voice's warning: *"Speak... and the threads unravel faster."* The tremor, the Drake's fury – triggered when he *almost* spoke. The proof is horrifying.

**KAEL**

> (Voice raw with suppressed terror)

> I... I don't know, Lyra. Something... reacted. Badly. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched it.

He can't meet her eyes. The lie tastes like ash. He clutches the simple WARDEN'S COMPASS he found inside the casket before the vision hit. Its moonlight needle trembles wildly, pointing towards both the Vale's radiant heart and the thickest patches of shadow. Lyra eyes him suspiciously but sees genuine, deep fear.

**LYRA**

> ...Alright. Look, whatever that was... it scared the shadows out of me too. We got the compass. That's something. Let's get out of this death-trap before that Drake spots us.

Kael nods mutely. He looks down at the compass, then out at the magnificent, corrupted Vale – the beauty and the horror intertwined. The crushing weight of his impossible secret settles on his shoulders. He sees Lyra checking her sunsteel daggers, ready to move. She doesn't trust him fully, not after that, but she hasn't abandoned him.

**LYRA**

> You coming, sparky? Or you planning to commune with more angry rocks?

Kael takes a shaky breath. He has no choice. He must bear this alone. But he's not *entirely* alone anymore. He pockets the compass.

**KAEL**

> Coming. And... thanks, Lyra. For before. With the Drifter.

**LYRA**

> (A faint, grim smile)

> Don't mention it. Just try not to blow up the next landmark, yeah? Split's still fifty-fifty, even if you are... weird.

They move off into the treacherous crystal night. Kael glances back at the rampaging Drake, a monstrous symbol of the corruption he must now fight, silently, against time itself. The compass needle pulses in his pocket, a silent guide towards an impossible task.

Kael and Lyra, small figures against the vast, luminous, and shattered landscape, moving towards an uncertain future. The Drake's shadow passes overhead.)

**Next Episode Preview Snippet:** Kael tries to decipher the compass. Brask hunts him for skipping the Deep Vein. They seek refuge in a strange town where magic is strictly controlled, encountering a brilliant but exiled scholar (introducing Ally #2) who notices Kael's unique resonance... and the unnatural attention the Gloomspawn pay to him. The Drake's shadow looms in the distance.

**Logline:** Pursued by Brask and haunted by his apocalyptic vision, Kael struggles to interpret the cryptic Warden's Compass with Lyra's help. Their desperate search for answers leads them to a reclusive scholar whose insights into magic's resonance might be key, forcing Kael to walk a razor's edge between seeking help and triggering doom.

**EXT. WHISPERWOOD - DAWN**

Kael and Lyra move swiftly through the mist-shrouded woods, fatigue etched on their faces. Kael clutches his head, flashes of the shattering sky flickering behind his eyes. The ground trembles faintly underfoot – a lingering echo of the Vale's disturbance.

**LYRA**

> (Glancing back, wary)

> Those tremors following us, or just the Vale settling?

> (Kael doesn't answer, lost in the vision)

> Kael! Snap out of it! Brask’s thugs won't care about your headaches. You skipped his death-shift. He *will* send hunters.

**KAEL**

> (Shaking his head, voice strained)

> I know. Sorry. The... after-effects. It’s fading.

> (He pulls out the Warden’s Compass. Its moonlight needle spins erratically, occasionally pulsing towards the distant sea)

> This thing... it’s pointing everywhere and nowhere. "Seek the Fonts." What Fonts? Where?

**LYRA**

> (Peering at the compass)

> Wardens were ancient. Pre-Cataclysm. Their maps are dust. But their magic... it resonates. Maybe it's pointing to places where the Ley-lines converge? Big magic spots. Like the Vale, but... hopefully less explodey.

**KAEL**

> Big magic means big Gloomspawn. Like that Drake.

> (He shudders)

> How do we find a specific "Font"? How do I..."Mend the Heart"? Without getting torn apart by shadow-beasts or collapsing continents by *thinking* too loud?

The raw frustration and fear in his voice are palpable. Lyra studies him, not with suspicion now, but concern.

**LYRA**

> We need someone who speaks "ancient cryptic." Someone who knows resonance theory backwards. I know a place. **Arcanum's Rest**. It’s a... haven for scholars the Academy exiled. One of them, **Elara**, she was obsessed with pre-Cataclysm harmonics. Bit intense, but brilliant. If anyone can decipher that compass, it’s her.

**KAEL**

> (Eyes wide with hope, then clouded by dread)

> We tell her...?

**LYRA**

> (Shakes head firmly)

> We tell her we found a weird Warden artifact in the Vale, it’s giving off strange readings, and we need it deciphered. Period. Your... episode... stays between us. For now. Agreed?

> (She holds his gaze, offering a pact of silence)

Kael feels a surge of desperate gratitude. This small act of trust, of shared secrecy that *isn't* the world-ending kind, is a lifeline.

**KAEL**

> (Nods solemnly)

> Agreed. Just the artifact.

**EXT. ARCANUM'S REST - DAY**

A ramshackle village built into giant, fossilized mushrooms and ancient tree stumps on the Whisperwood's edge. The air hums faintly with contained magical experiments. Suspicious eyes follow Kael and Lyra as they approach a hut woven from glowing vines and salvaged metal plates. A sign reads: "Elara Vess - Resonance & Ruin."

**INT. ELARA'S HUT - CONTINUOUS**

Controlled chaos. Crystals hum on intricate stands. Scrolls overflow shelves. ELARA (50s, sharp eyes, wild grey-streaked hair, fingers stained with ink and reagents) is calibrating a complex brass device. She barely glances up.

**ELARA**

> Lyra. Back so soon? Did you find the Sky-Singer Shard or just more trouble? And who's the fidgety one? His resonance is... chaotic. Like a storm in a teacup.

**LYRA**

> Trouble found us, Elara. This is Kael. We found *this* in the Petrified Vale.

> (She gestures for Kael to show the compass)

Kael hesitantly places the compass on a clear spot on a cluttered table. The moonlight needle immediately steadies, pointing unerringly towards a specific spot on the far wall... where a complex Ley-line diagram is pinned. Elara freezes, her device forgotten.

**ELARA**

> (Whispering, awestruck)

> A Warden's True Compass... I thought they were myth. Keyed not to direction, but to *resonance signatures*...

> (She snatches it up, peering through a multi-lensed monocle)

> Fascinating! It's not just pointing to magic... it's differentiating. This pulse... pure, deep, foundational. Ancient. And *this* thrum... jagged, hungry. Counter-resonance. Gloom.

**KAEL**

> (Leaning forward, eager despite himself)

> Can it find specific resonances? Like... "Fonts"? And... a "Heart"?

Elara's eyes snap to him, sharp as flint.

**ELARA**

> "Fonts"? "Heart"? Where did you hear those terms, boy? They’re not in common texts. Only deep Warden lore... or dangerous prophecy.

Kael's blood runs cold. *Prophecy.* He feels the familiar pressure build behind his eyes, the warning throb. He clamps his mouth shut, looking desperately at Lyra.

**LYRA**

> (Stepping in smoothly)

> We found some markings near the cache. Crumbling stuff. Those words were there. We figured you'd know what they meant.

Elara scrutinizes them both, clearly not entirely convinced, but the lure of the compass is too strong.

**ELARA**

> Hmph. Likely story. But... the compass *can* be tuned. In theory. It seeks the source resonance it's attuned to. If you knew the *signature* of a Font... or this "Heart"... you could find it. But those signatures are lost. Unless...

> (She taps the compass thoughtfully)

> ...Unless the compass itself holds an echo. A residual signature from its creation, or last activation. But accessing that... requires a delicate harmonic infusion. Risky. Could shatter it. Or... trigger something worse.

**EXT. ARCANUM'S REST - MARKET SQUARE - DAY**

Kael paces near a bubbling geothermal pool used for laundry, trying to quell his rising panic. Elara's words echo: *"dangerous prophecy," "trigger something worse."* Lyra approaches, tossing him a rough oatcake.

**LYRA**

> She's setting up. Needs some rare earth from the hot springs nearby. Says it stabilizes the harmonics. You look like you're about to vibrate apart.

**KAEL**

> (Voice low, tense)

> She *knows*, Lyra. Or suspects. "Dangerous prophecy." If she pushes, if I slip...

**LYRA**

> Then we don't slip. We stick to the script: curious relic hunters. Elara loves a puzzle more than she loves answers. She'll focus on the tech. Just... try to keep the teacup storm inside the cup, alright?

> (She offers a small, encouraging nod)

> We need this. That compass is useless otherwise.

A commotion erupts at the village entrance. BRASK strides in, flanked by four armed miners-turned-thugs. His eyes scan the crowd, landing on Kael with predatory satisfaction.

**BRASK**

> There he is! The thieving little spark! Skipped his debt-shift, stole Academy property!

> (He holds up a fake manifest)

> Hand him over, mushroom-dwellers, or this whole rat's nest burns!

Villagers shrink back. Kael's fists clench, raw magic flickering dangerously. Lyra draws her sunsteel daggers.

**LYRA**

> Academy property? That’s rich coming from a crystal leech! He owes you nothing, Brask!

**BRASK**

> Take them! Smash the place if you have to!

Thugs charge. Kael tries to focus, to push them back like he did the Drifter, but fear of losing control, of triggering the prophecy, makes his magic sputter erratically. He deflects one thug with a weak kinetic shove, staggering himself. Lyra engages two others, her blades flashing.

**INT. ELARA'S HUT - CONTINUOUS**

Elara hears the commotion outside. She looks from her delicate setup to the compass, then to the chaos unfolding through her window. A determined glint enters her eyes.

**ELARA**

> (To herself)

> Barbarians! Interrupting critical resonance alignment!

> (She grabs a vial of glowing earth and a tuning fork made of crystal)

> Desperate times...

She quickly sprinkles the earth around the compass and strikes the fork against a crystal. A pure, high note fills the hut. She holds the vibrating fork near the compass. The moonlight needle flares brilliantly, then spins wildly before locking onto a new direction – **Northwest, towards the coast**. A complex, layered symbol briefly shimmers *above* the compass.

**EXT. MARKET SQUARE - CONTINUOUS**

Kael is grappling with a thug. Brask lunges, a heavy cudgel raised. Suddenly, the ground beneath Brask and his thugs *softens*, turning into sticky, glowing mud. They sink to their knees, shouting in confusion and rage. Elara stands in her doorway, holding a small, smoking earth-bender apparatus.

**ELARA**

> Get off my lawn, you overgrown maggots! And take your pet mud-puppies with you!

Lyra uses the distraction to disarm her opponent. Kael shoves his thug into the mud next to Brask. The villagers cautiously advance, tools raised. Brask snarls, realizing the tide has turned.

**BRASK**

> This isn't over, gutter-spark! You're marked! Come on, you idiots! Extract!

The mud-bound thugs are hauled out by their comrades. Brask casts a final venomous look at Kael before retreating.

**LYRA**

> (Breathing heavily, to Elara)

> Nice trick.

**ELARA**

> (Dusting off her hands, returning to the hut)

> Basic geomancy. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Your compass. It *did* hold an echo. I imprinted the strongest foundational resonance it contained – likely a Font signature. It's pointing Northwest now. Coastline. Near the **Shattered Cliffs**. And it gave me *this*.

> (She quickly sketches the symbol that shimmered above the compass - an intricate knotwork resembling a stylized heart intertwined with Ley-lines)

> This is the resonance signature you need to find. The "Heart"? Perhaps. The compass will now guide you to the nearest source matching *this* foundational resonance.

Kael stares at the symbol. It resonates deep within him, aligning with the terrifying *knowing* from the prophecy. Hope wars with terror. They have a direction.

**KAEL**

> (Humbled, sincere)

> Thank you, Elara. Truly.

**ELARA**

> (Waves a hand dismissively, but her eyes are keen)

> Don't thank me yet. The Cliffs are treacherous. Ley-lines there are frayed, unstable. Gloomspawn gather like flies on carrion. And that signature... it felt old. Powerful. *Hungry*. Be careful what you seek, children. Sometimes the cure is worse than the sickness.

> (Her gaze lingers on Kael, seeing the chaotic resonance swirling around him)

> And you, storm-teacup... learn control. That raw power is a beacon. To things far worse than Brask.

**EXT. WHISPERWOOD EDGE - LATE AFTERNOON**

Kael and Lyra hike towards the setting sun, the compass needle steady in Kael's hand. The weight of Elara's warning hangs in the air.

**LYRA**

> "Be careful what you seek." Cheery, that one. But she came through. Shattered Cliffs... heard stories. Sea caves full of echoes that drive men mad. Perfect place for a world-saving artifact, right?

**KAEL**

> (Manages a weak smile)

> Sounds about right. Lyra... back there, with Brask... thanks. For having my back.

**LYRA**

> Hey, fifty-fifty split on whatever world-saving loot we find, remember? Self-interest.

> (She nudges him playfully, then sobers)

> Seriously though. Elara's right. That power surge when Brask showed... you choked it. Why? You weren't scared of *him*.

Kael looks out at the darkening woods, the compass heavy in his palm. He wants to tell her *everything*. The pressure is immense. He feels the warning throb begin.

**KAEL**

> I... I was scared of what it *might do*. What it might... attract. Or... break.

> (He chooses his words with agonizing care, avoiding the core truth)

> The magic... it feels tied to everything. Like pulling one thread could unravel... a lot. I need control. Badly.

Lyra watches him struggle. She doesn't understand, but she sees the genuine terror and responsibility.

**LYRA**

> Alright. Then we find you a teacher. After the Cliffs. Someone who knows wild magic. For now... one foot in front of the other, sparky. And try not to unravel anything vital before breakfast.

They walk in companionable silence for a moment. Kael feels a flicker of warmth despite the dread. He's not alone.

**KAEL**

> Deal. Breakfast is on me if we survive the maddening echoes.

**LYRA**

> (Grins)

> Now *that's* motivation. Move faster!

They pick up the pace. Kael glances at the compass, then towards the darkening horizon where the sea awaits. The symbol Elara drew burns in his mind – the key, the target, the potential trigger for doom. He grips the compass tighter, the silent burden heavy, but Lyra's presence beside him a steady anchor against the coming storm.

Kael and Lyra, silhouetted against the sunset, heading towards the foreboding coastline. The moonlight needle glows steadily on the compass. High above, unseen, a shadow with tattered wings glides on an updraft – smaller than the Drake, but just as corrupted.)

**Next Episode Preview Snippet:** Perilous journey to the Shattered Cliffs. Navigating echo-mad caves. A terrifying new Gloomspawn born of drowned magic and despair. Kael's unstable power flares, revealing his presence to something ancient beneath the waves. Lyra confronts him about the increasing frequency of his "episodes." Brask's hunters close in from the land. The compass needle dips towards the churning sea.

**Logline:** Guided by the compass to the treacherous Shattered Cliffs, Kael and Lyra face sentient echoes that prey on memories, a corrupted Font of magic, and Brask’s relentless hunters. When Kael’s unstable power erupts to save Lyra, it awakens an ancient terror beneath the waves.

**EXT. SHATTERED CLIFFS - DAY**

Wind howls through jagged sea stacks. Waves CRASH violently into caverns below, creating eerie, resonant BOOMS. Kael holds the compass, its needle pointing toward a massive sea cave.

**LYRA**

>(Shouting over the wind)

>Elara wasn’t kidding about "frayed ley-lines"! This place feels... *wrong*. Like the air itself is screaming.

**KAEL**

>(Eyes haunted, gripping his temples)

>It’s not just the wind... It’s *echoes*. Memories trapped in the stone. Pain. Fear. Drowning...

**LYRA**

>(Notices his pallor)

>Hey. Focus on *my* voice. Not the rocks. What’s the compass say?

**KAEL**

>(Shows her the steady needle)

>Straight into the Maw. That cave’s breathing shadow.

**LYRA**

>Of course it is. Stay close. Watch for crumbling edges and... whatever the Gloom’s cooked up here.

They pick their way down a perilous path. Strange whispers seem to emanate from the cliffs – fragmented voices pleading, laughing, sobbing. Kael flinches as a particularly loud wail hits him.

**KAEL**

>(Staggering)

>"*Don’t leave me here!*"... It’s so loud...

**LYRA**

>(Grabs his arm, steadying him)

>Ground yourself, sparky! Breathe. It’s just noise. Annoying, creepy noise.

**INT. SEA CAVE - THE MAW - CONTINUOUS**

The cave glows faintly with bioluminescent algae, revealing walls covered in swirling, ancient carvings depicting Wardens battling sea monsters. The air thrums with unstable magic. The compass needle GLOWS fiercely, pointing deeper in.

**LYRA**

>(Tracing a carving)

>Look. Wardens. And that symbol Elara drew – the Heart knotwork. We’re close.

Suddenly, the whispers coalesce. Phantom figures – translucent sailors, weeping children – manifest around them, repeating fragmented moments of terror.

**ECHO OF DROWNED SAILOR**

>*"...mast snapped... cold... so cold..."*

**KAEL**

>(Clutching his head)

>They’re not just noise, Lyra! They’re *hungry*. They feed on feeling...

A cluster of echoes swirls around Lyra, replaying the sound of Brask’s thugs attacking her. She grits her teeth, trying to ignore them.

**LYRA**

>Just keep moving! Don’t let them—

A larger echo, a twisted mockery of a Warden made of water and shadow (**A DROWNED ECHO**), rises from a tidal pool. Its wail is a physical force, SLAMMING them against the wall.

**DROWNED ECHO**

>*"...FAILURE... DROWN... ALL..."*

**KAEL**

>(Painfully pushing back)

>Lyra! Sunsteel! It’s solid enough!

Lyra rolls, drawing her daggers. The sunsteel light repels the smaller echoes but only ANNOYS the Drowned Echo. It lashes out with watery tendrils.

**INT. INNER SANCTUM - CONTINUOUS**

They stumble into a vast chamber. In the center, a **FONT** – a pool of pure, liquid light pulsating in time with the ley-lines – is corrupted. Thick veins of black Gloom snake through it, choking its radiance. The compass needle points directly at it, vibrating wildly.

**LYRA**

>(Horrified)

>No... The Font itself is infected?

**KAEL**

>(Staring in despair)

>This is what we need to mend... but it’s *dying*. The Gloom’s suffocating it.

**THE VOICE (V.O.)**

>*The First Font weakens. Its light dims. Heal it, Echo, or its death will ripple through the Heart.*

Kael steps toward the Font, drawn by its fading light. As he nears, the Gloom veins PULSE angrily. The Drowned Echo surges into the chamber, drawn by the conflict.

**LYRA**

>Kael, look out!

The Drowned Echo attacks Kael. He tries to summon his power defensively, but fear of the prophecy and the suffocating Gloom make it sputter. He’s thrown back, hitting the cavern wall hard.

**LYRA**

>(Charging the Echo)

>Leave him alone!

She fights fiercely, but the Echo is relentless, feeding on her frustration and the Font’s corrupted energy. Kael sees Lyra being driven back toward a deep chasm filled with churning, dark water.

**LYRA**

>(Slipping on wet rock)

>Whoa—!

She teeters on the edge. The Drowned Echo rears up for a final strike.

**KAEL**

>(Pure terror cutting through his restraint)

>LYRA! NO!

**UNLEASHED POWER:** Raw, golden energy EXPLODES from Kael – not a focused blast, but a wave of pure force. It **SHATTERS** the Drowned Echo into mist, **SEVERS** the thickest Gloom veins in the Font, and **COLLAPSES** part of the cavern ceiling. Rocks rain down, sealing the entrance tunnel.

**INT. COLLAPSED SANCTUM - CONTINUOUS**

Dust fills the air. The Font flickers weakly, its light slightly brighter without the major Gloom veins, but still corrupted. Kael scrambles to Lyra, pulling her from the chasm’s edge.

**LYRA**

>(Coughing, staring at Kael in shock)

>You... you brought the whole cave down! What *was* that?!

**KAEL**

>(Trembling, energy fading)

>I... I lost control. I couldn’t let it—

**LYRA**

>(Grabbing his shoulders, fierce but not angry)

>You saved my life. But Kael... that power isn't just unstable. It’s *volcanic*. And it’s getting stronger. What aren’t you telling me?

Kael looks at her, the words choking him. The pressure builds behind his eyes. He *wants* to tell her. Suddenly, the ground trembles violently – not from his power, but from **DEEP BELOW**. A guttural, inhuman ROAR echoes through the stone, shaking dust from the ceiling.

**KAEL**

>(Eyes wide with primal terror)

>It heard me... It *felt* me...

**LYRA**

>What did?

**KAEL**

>(Shaking his head violently, clutching his skull)

>Can’t... speak...

The compass vibrates wildly, its needle spinning before pointing **DOWN**, into the chasm’s dark water. The roar comes again, closer.

**LYRA**

>(Pragmatism overriding shock)

>Right. Big, angry, underwater *thing*. Collapsed entrance. We need another way out. Now!

She scans the carvings frantically. Her eyes land on a Warden symbol – a spiral leading upwards.

**LYRA**

>Here! A tunnel! Probably flooded, but—

**BRASK (O.S.)**

>Thought you could hide in a rat hole?

Brask and three hunters (including **MURK**, now covered in Gloom-barnacles, eyes glowing sickly green) emerge from a hidden side tunnel. Murk snarls, shadowy tendrils writhing around his hands.

**BRASK**

>You cost me good men collapsing that tunnel, spark. Now you pay. Take them!

**INT. ESCAPE TUNNEL - CONTINUOUS**

Kael and Lyra sprint up a steep, water-slicked tunnel carved into the cliff. Brash and Gloom-corrupted Murk pursue.

**LYRA**

>(Firing a sunsteel-tipped bolt backward)

>Move, Kael!

**KAEL**

>(Glancing back)

>Murk’s faster... the Gloom’s changing him!

Murk lunges, tendrils lashing. Kael instinctively throws up a weak kinetic shield. It shatters, but slows Murk enough for Lyra to kick him into the wall. Brask fires a crossbow – the bolt grazes Kael’s leg. He stumbles.

**LYRA**

>Kael!

**KAEL**

>Go! I’m right behind!

They burst out onto a windswept ledge high on the cliffs. Below, the sea churns violently. The compass needle points accusingly down into the abyss.

**BRASK**

>(Emerging, aiming crossbow)

>End of the line, gutter-spark!

Suddenly, the ledge SHAKES. A colossal, shadowy **TENTACLE** thicker than a tree trunk erupts from the sea, slamming down near Brask. A second tentacle follows. An eye the size of a wagon wheel, glowing with corrupted light, breaks the surface.

**THE LEVIATHAN** has awakened.

**LYRA**

>(Grabbing Kael)

>Time to leave! NOW!

They scramble upwards as the Leviathan’s tentacles smash the ledge where Brask and Murk stand. Brask’s scream is cut short. Murk is dragged into the depths, his Gloom-corruption flaring briefly before vanishing.

Kael and Lyra collapse on a higher cliff, watching the Leviathan submerge. The compass needle still points down. Kael’s leg bleeds, his hands shake. Lyra stares at him, no longer just wary – deeply concerned.

**LYRA**

>(Quietly)

>It came because of your blast... didn’t it?

Kael nods mutely, unable to meet her eyes. The weight of his secret is crushing.

**LYRA**

>(Sighs, tears a strip from her cloak)

>Alright. First, we stop the bleeding. Then... we find you that teacher. Elara mentioned a name... **Thelron the Storm-Singer**. He’s our next stop.

She binds his wound. Her hand lingers on his shoulder – a silent promise of solidarity. Kael looks at the raging sea, then at Lyra. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes say everything: *Thank you. I’m scared. I need your help.*

**FADE TO BLACK.**

**Next Episode Preview Snippet:** Kael struggles with guilt over awakening the Leviathan. Lyra pushes him toward Storm-Singer’s mountain sanctuary. A Gloom-tainted storm pursues them. Thelron’s first test nearly breaks Kael. The Leviathan’s shadow moves beneath coastal towns...