The sun barely touched the clearing by the time Ren and Zarno reached it. The trees behind them stood dense. Ahead, the land opened into low grass and a tangle of brush, scattered with the bones of old watchposts—crumbling stone, rusted nails, and the last few pieces of civilization that had tried and failed to matter here.
Ren crouched and pressed his palm against the dirt. It was warm.
"Recent fire," he said.
Zarno nodded without asking how he knew. She was already circling the edge of the clearing, scanning the tree line, quiet as she had been since the morning.
They hadn't spoken about the footprints. Or the cloth snagged on a branch last night. Or the half-buried ring of stones shaped like an eye.
They both knew Serel was near.
But neither wanted to admit it out loud.
Ren stood. "We need to cross. The ridge is two hours east."
Zarno looked at the sky—overcast again. No birds. The quiet felt wrong.
"No cover," she said. "If she's watching, that's where she waits."
He didn't argue.
But they crossed anyway.
Step by step, careful not to break rhythm. Like prey pretending not to smell the predator nearby. Halfway through, Ren stopped. The pen in his pocket—it wasn't moving, but he could feel it growing colder.
Zarno turned to him. "What?"
He shook his head. "It's nothing."
That was a lie, and they both knew it.
An Hour Later – The Ridge
They reached the ridge just before the rain did.
Zarno ducked beneath a leaning slab of shale. Ren followed, his boots leaving small trails in the softening dirt. Below them, the valley sprawled open—faded roads, skeleton trees, and the crumbled frame of what might've once been a tower.
She looked at him. "This is the place?"
He nodded. "Archivist was last seen near here. If he's not dead, this is where he'd be."
Zarno didn't move.
Ren studied her expression. "You're thinking something."
"I'm thinking if he is dead," she said slowly, "then what you're about to find won't be facts. Just echoes."
Ren didn't reply. He opened his satchel and took out the notebook. The pages were warped now, stained from travel and age, but the ink still held its shape. He opened to a blank section. Touched the pen to it.
Nothing.
Then—words.
He watches from beneath the bones of the old bell.
Ren stared at the message.
"There's no bell tower," Zarno said.
He turned the notebook to show her. "There was."
Down in the Valley – Bell Tower Ruins
They moved slow now.
Every step felt deliberate. The wind had picked up. Not a storm—just the kind of wind that made old wood creak and made Ren think too much.
The ruined tower had collapsed into itself, half-swallowed by the earth. All that remained were three jagged beams and the rusted shape of the bell itself, sunken into the mud.
Ren approached carefully.
The air shifted near the bell. Cold and thin.
He crouched and pressed the pen to the earth.
This time, the ink spilled fast.
"I failed."
"I watched and didn't act."
"They erased the truth because I didn't write it fast enough."
Ren froze.
Zarno crouched beside him. She touched the bell. "Someone was buried here."
He nodded. "..."
The pen scratched again.
"He is still here."
Ren felt it like a hand closing around his chest. He reached forward—and found the edge of a hatch. Rusted shut. He pressed both palms to it and pushed.
It groaned, then gave.
Beneath was a narrow crawlspace. The smell hit first—dust, mold, and something faintly electrical, though that didn't make sense.
Ren slid down first. Zarno followed.
The space below was barely larger than a cellar. But the walls—etched with notes. Hundreds of them. Scribbled in charcoal, ink, dried blood. No structure. Just thoughts. Warnings. Names.
In the center sat a figure.
Or what was left of one.
Half bone. Half skin. Mouth open as if caught mid-sentence.
A pen was clenched in one hand.
Ren stepped forward. The notebook in his hands began to shake.
"Do not stay here."
"This place is not memory."
"It is a bait."
Ren's blood went cold.
Zarno pulled him back, fast. "We need to go."
She was right.
But before they could leave, the corpse twitched.
Just once.
Back on the Ridge
The rain had started by the time they reached the surface. The clearing had vanished in mist. There was no sign of Serel. No sign of anything at all.
Zarno pressed a hand to Ren's back. "You alright?"
He didn't answer.
He sat down, slowly. Opened the notebook again.
This time, the pen moved before he even touched the page.
"Two worlds already deleted."
"This one is next."