The alleyway was dim, the air thick with the evening mist that clung to the stone buildings like forgotten memories. A distant hum from the city barely pierced the silence, leaving the soft sound of footsteps the only indication of movement in the stillness. The courtyard where the three figures stood was secluded, tucked between two looming structures, their shadows stretching long in the fading light. It was the kind of place most people would walk past without a second thought, and tonight, there was no one around to disturb them.

Shade leaned against the stone pillar, his form nearly blending into the darkness. His gaze swept across the courtyard, moving over every corner, every shadow. There was something methodical in his stillness, an air of constant vigilance, as if he were waiting for something—or someone—to reveal itself. The world around him seemed secondary, his focus narrowed entirely on the others present, his posture unyielding.

Whisper’s voice cut through the silence, light and playful, contrasting the tension that simmered in the air. "So, there I was," he said, his hands making wild gestures as he spoke, "staring down the biggest man I've ever seen. You know what I did? I told him, ‘Prepare yourself, my friend. You’re about to get schooled.’" He threw his head back, laughing at the image in his mind. "And, let me tell you, the lesson did not go how he thought."

Vigil, who had been standing near the entrance, raised an eyebrow, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. He shifted his weight, the faintest sound of leather creaking under his stance. "You should learn to be more careful with your bravado," he said, his voice measured. "Not everyone will take kindly to your theatrics."

Whisper waved off the criticism with a casual flick of his wrist. "Details, details," he muttered, a teasing glint in his eye. "What’s a story without a little spice?"

Shade's gaze flickered from Whisper to Vigil, but he remained silent. His expression unreadable, he seemed detached from the conversation. He wasn’t interested in stories—he had more important things to focus on. The subtle tension in his posture suggested that something had caught his attention, though he made no effort to acknowledge it. His sharp eyes narrowed slightly. "We’re here for a reason," he muttered, the words barely rising above a whisper.

"Always so serious," Whisper said with a grin, clearly unfazed. "Come on, Shade, let loose a little. Life’s too short to be so grim."

Vigil opened his mouth to reply, but then the sound of footsteps interrupted him. Soft at first, then growing clearer, more deliberate. The mist around them seemed to thicken as the figure approached, slowly emerging from the fog. She was unfamiliar, the shape of her figure barely distinguishable against the haze. The echo of her steps seemed to pause time for a moment, as though the world itself held its breath.

The three Echoed turned as one, their attention shifting instantly to the newcomer. Shade’s posture remained unchanged, but his eyes tracked her every movement, the stillness of his presence now charged with intent. Whisper’s smirk faltered, curiosity flickering in his expression as he tilted his head slightly. Vigil’s gaze was fixed, his stance composed but alert, every detail of her form examined.

In the space between them, the sound of her steps lingered, the mist swirling around her like a soft embrace, but none of them spoke. The tension in the air was subtle yet undeniable, each of the Echoed waiting, their reactions unreadable—leaving the space charged with anticipation.