The fire had long since died down.
Their small camp near the ridge was quiet—only the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional snap of a cooling branch broke the silence.
Everyone had turned in early after the cave exploration. No one said it out loud, but something about that place had left them restless.
Rai lay beneath his blanket, eyes closed, but his mind wouldn't settle. His muscles were still tense, and the spiral tattoo on his hand had a dull ache beneath it. Not pain—just presence.
Eventually, sleep claimed him.
But it didn't bring rest.
He was standing inside a chamber again—but this one was whole, not ruined. Clean stone, polished walls, fresh carvings spiraling across the surface like they'd just been written.
A single figure stood near the far wall.
Back turned. Moving slowly.
He was drawing symbols—one after another—with his fingertip, which left glowing trails of golden light across the wall.
Rai took a step forward.
The figure turned slightly.
And his breath caught.
He looked like Rai.
Older. Worn down. Dressed in layered robes that shimmered faintly, their patterns echoing the same spiral carved into Rai's skin.
His eyes, when they met Rai's, were not surprised.
They were tired.
And kind.
He spoke—not loud, not urgent. Just like someone who had been alone too long.
"Hope you find it."
Rai opened his mouth—but no sound came.
The figure turned back to the wall and kept writing.
Over and over.
"You are the key."
"You are not one of them."
"He gave it to you."
"Find it before they do."
Rai's knees buckled.
The world rippled.
And then—
He jolted awake, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat.
The stars overhead were dim through the tree cover. His blanket was soaked. His chest felt tight, like something had climbed into it and left a mark.
He looked at his hand.
The spiral wasn't glowing. But it felt warm.
And everyone else was still asleep.
Except Emma.
She stirred, eyes fluttering open.
"Rai?" she whispered, crawling toward him. "Are you okay?"
He wiped his forehead, nodded once.
But didn't speak.
She saw the look in his eyes—and didn't push. Just stayed close, her hand brushing his as she sat beside him.
At the edge of the camp, Ronald sat a little away from the others.
He was hunched over a page in his sketchbook, carefully copying the patterns from the stone fragment he'd taken from the cave.
Beside him, his phone buzzed with a faint vibration.
He didn't answer it.
Instead, he opened a secure app, typed out a single message, and sent it:
"Give me whole details. Urgently."
The screen blinked once.
Then went dark.