Echoes With Names

Cairo stared at the pulse readout, unmoving.

The frequency hadn’t changed.
The pattern hadn’t glitched.
But the signal had spoken.

Not a voice.
A signature.
A name.

It appeared for just a moment—rendered in light and rhythm, syllables bent by time but still legible.

“Noé.”

Kai looked over.
“Is that… a name?”

Cairo nodded, voice quiet.
“Yeah. But not someone we know.”

Sienna flipped through earlier sketches.
“Not in any wellkeeper records.”

Orion remained still, watching the forest’s edge.
Then he spoke softly:
“It’s close to one of ours.”

Cairo looked up.
“What do you mean?”

“Brianna Noe.”

The name settled over them like mist.
Not heavy. Not random.

“She’s always said rhythm remembers things we’ve forgotten,” Sienna murmured.
“Maybe this isn’t the first time she’s been close to it.”

Jada’s voice came through, steady:
“That name’s on my end too. Embedded in the signal. Repeats every eleven cycles. It’s layered with something else.”

“What?” asked Cairo.

A pause. Then:

“A second signature. Fainter. But I translated what I could.”

“And?”

“Hazel.”

The fire cracked. No one moved.

Kai whispered:
“Hazel? As in—”

Cero stood slowly. His voice was barely audible.

“My mother.”

The others turned. Orion placed a hand gently on Cero’s shoulder.
“Are you sure?”

Cero didn’t nod. Didn’t blink.

He stepped into the center of the ring, knelt, and placed both palms to the soil.

The signal pulsed again—slow, reverent, whole.

And from the trees—

A figure emerged.

Not ghost.
Not echo.
Hazel.

Her steps were cautious. But her eyes were full.

“Cero.”

He didn’t cry.
He ran.

And the clearing exhaled.

Not memory.
Not myth.
Return.