The two shapes stepped fully into the hollow. They moved with a smooth rhythm that reminded Ravel of water sliding around stones. Their bodies were tall and thin, almost stretched, and their skin looked like pale bark carved into a humanoid shape. Their faces had no features except for two shallow indentations where eyes should have been. They stood upright but had a slight tilt forward, like something leaning in to smell the air.
Seris lifted her sword in a steady line. "Backstepers," she whispered. "Forest hunters. Not natural ones."
Ravel kept his voice low. "Not natural how?"
"They do not belong to the forest. They mimic its shape and pretend to be part of it, but they answer to something else."
Ravel felt the temperature in the hollow drop. The air thinned. Even the dripping water from the branches above slowed, each drop stretching long before falling.
The creatures watched them. They did not move. They did not breathe. They only tilted their heads slightly to the side in an unnatural imitation of curiosity.
The sphere in Ravel's cloak warmed again. A faint tremor buzzed through his ribs. The sphere did not pulse in fear. It pulsed in warning.
Seris took one small step forward. "We cannot let them circle us," she said. "They hunt by reflection. They attack what they see behind them rather than what is in front."
Ravel blinked. "That makes no sense."
"It does when you understand their nature," Seris said. "They see backward. They move backward. They think backward."
Ravel felt a chill. "So if they look at me, they are actually seeing the space behind themselves."
"Exactly. Which is why they are dangerous."
One of the Backstepers finally moved. Its foot slid back across the ground without turning. Its shoulders rotated slightly. Another thin step. Then another. It was approaching them while facing away, its head tilted only enough to track their positions.
Ravel whispered, "That is impossible."
"It is not impossible," Seris said. "Just wrong."
The second creature followed the same motion. Both of them glided closer as if dragged by invisible strings.
Seris shifted her stance. "When they get close enough, they strike by reversing direction without turning. Keep your eyes on both at once."
"That is not helpful."
"It is the only advice I can give."
The closest Backsteper paused. Its limbs twitched. Its body shuddered once. Then all movement stopped.
Ravel felt the air pull inward.
Seris hissed, "Get ready."
The creature snapped forward with impossible speed, its torso folding and unfolding like a hinge. It moved in reverse, yet somehow lunged toward them at the same time. Ravel saw the attack a heartbeat too late.
Seris intercepted the strike. Her sword clashed against one of its long arms. The sound was sharp and metallic, not like bone hitting steel but like stone grinding on a blade. Sparks scattered across the hollow floor.
The second creature struck from the opposite side.
Ravel ducked instinctively. A pale arm swept over his head and sliced into the bark behind him. He heard a crack that sounded like a tree splitting.
Seris parried again, stepping to place herself between both attackers. "Ravel. Move away from the pool. It is reacting to you."
Ravel turned.
The surface of the memory basin rippled. Not from falling water. Not from wind.
Something beneath the surface was stirring.
Ravel backed away quickly.
The Backstepers lunged again. Seris blocked one and kicked the other back. Her movements were precise but strained. These creatures fought without rhythm, without pattern, without anything predictable.
Ravel pressed a hand to the sphere. It responded with a sharp pulse that made him wince.
An idea hit him.
"Seris. The sphere reacted to the Sentinel. Maybe it can react to these things too."
Seris gritted her teeth as she forced a blade away from her shoulder. "Be careful. Do not make it overreact."
Ravel pulled the sphere from his cloak.
The moment it appeared, both Backstepers froze.
Their heads snapped toward him in unnatural unison. Not by turning. Their torsos twisted backward while their feet stayed rooted.
Ravel held the sphere tighter, fighting the urge to run.
The creatures began to shake. Their limbs twitched violently. Lines appeared on their bark-like skin, long cracks that pulsed with a faint red glow.
Seris widened her stance. "They recognize it. They must be tied to whatever corrupted the ritual."
Ravel felt the sphere grow hotter. Not in danger. In recognition.
The creatures screeched. The sound was not a normal cry. It was a backwards scream, starting at the end and dragging toward the beginning. It echoed around the hollow like voices played in reverse.
The pool reacted.
The water flared with red light.
A beam shot upward, illuminating the entire cavern. The Backstepers writhed under the glow. Crack lines spread faster across their bodies.
Seris seized the moment. She stepped forward and sliced through the nearest creature's arm. This time the cut was clean. The limb fell to the ground and turned into a pile of dead leaves.
The second creature lunged at Ravel. He stumbled back. It reached for him with long fingers.
The sphere pulsed once.
The creature jerked violently.
A deep crack split its torso from shoulder to hip. Light poured from the break.
Seris spun behind it and drove her sword straight through the opening.
The creature collapsed into a heap of rotted twigs.
Silence returned slowly. The water in the memory basin dimmed back to silver. The air warmed, though faint traces of the strange chill lingered.
Ravel dropped to one knee, breathing hard. The sphere cooled as if nothing had happened.
Seris walked over and checked the remains. Nothing but dried bark and dust. "Backstepers do not appear on their own," she said. "Something sent them."
Ravel swallowed. "Something that wants the sphere."
"Or something that fears it," Seris said. "The memory we saw was only a fraction of what happened back then. The forest is giving us pieces. It needs us to see the whole picture before the true threat arrives."
Ravel stood slowly. His legs trembled. "So what now?"
"Now," Seris said, "we leave the hollow before something stronger decides to check on the noise."
Ravel nodded. He tucked the sphere back into his cloak. "Where do we go next?"
Seris looked toward a narrow path at the far end of the hollow. The trees there bent away from the center as if opening a deliberate corridor.
"The forest just chose our next direction," she said. "Whatever waits down that path is tied to the First Makers. And to the sphere you carry."
Ravel swallowed. "I am not sure if that is comforting or terrifying."
Seris sheathed her sword. "At this point, the difference does not matter."
They stepped toward the path.
The forest closed behind them.
And far behind them, deep inside the pool, the last faint ripple of red light pulsed once more as if remembering a name neither of them yet knew.