Rain-slicked earth lay heavy on Jack's boots as he paused outside the church's stone gates. His lantern flickered, casting hesitant light over worn steps and mossy arches.
He glanced at the trio, Isaac, Isabelle, Ian, unloading their ritual supplies from a battered cart.
His voice was low, measured:
"That path up's rougher than it looks. Been raining steady all week. Stone's slick. Watch your footing."
He stepped closer to Ian, pointed at the wounded ground:
"You in particular-easy on the toes, yeah? Don't want you tumbling on the way up."
Ian nodded, grim-faced, fisting at the strap of his satchel.
Jack turned then to include Isabelle and Isaac:
"And once you're up there…expect to set the ground yourselves. No one else around tonight—mass ran late, procession took half the day. They're tied up."
He braced himself against the cold breeze, eyes distant-like he could see something waiting beyond the stained glass.
Then he spoke, softer, more to himself than them:
"This place… it remembers every prayer, every doubt. Leaves 'em in the stones. Take care when you open that circle."
He paused long enough to let the words sink in, then offered them a small nod.
"Alright. Stay sharp. The hill's waiting."
Jack's lantern light blinked once, then vanished into the distance.
The trio stood at the foot of the hill, steep, winding, and daunting then set off, the damp stone crunching beneath their boots.
"How come he only warned me to be careful?" Ian grumbled. "You two are just as clumsy."
"I've never fallen once in my life," Isabelle shot back, chin high.
"Sure, sure-like when the twins chased us and you stumbled?" Isaac teased.
"Oh yeah," she grinned, slapping him lightly on the arm. "You kept running without me."
"What-they were scary," Isaac mumbled, rubbing his arm. A reluctant laugh escaped him.
A light drizzle began, speckling their hoods. The path curled upward, rough and sodden.
"This weather is genuinely depressing," Ian sighed, glancing upward.
Isabelle scowled. "Everything here is depressing."
Isaac tilted his head, brushing rain from his brow. "I actually kind of like it."
Ian cocked an eyebrow. "Well of course-why wouldn't you like overcast days?"
Isaac simply shrugged. The three trudged upward, the hill awaiting.
They climbed higher, the hill growing steeper with each step through slick grass and uneven stone. The lantern's glow flickered and pinched the darkness into restless pools.
Ian stumbled, knee brushing against rough turf. He caught his balance with a muttered curse, then stopped to peer back up the mist-shrouded path, each footfall absorbed by the soaked earth.
Isabelle pressed ahead of them, steps careful but deliberate. Her hooded head cast down, she ignored the chill that seeped into her bones and let the rhythm of her breathing guide her upward.
Isaac moved between them, scanning the dark shapes at the path's edge. A heavy drop of water plopped from a branch overhead. He froze, mid-step, then stepped on, the silence swallowing every creak of leather soles.
A flicker of movement flashed through the trees,so fast he almost missed it. The wind didn't shift, yet the underbrush rustled close beside him. He slowed, listening to the rain's rising patter masking the world around him.
Every slick rock, every muddy indent in the soil reminded them how tenuous their footing was. No guardrails, no carved steps. Nature reclaimed every inch, but the path remained, insisting they follow it upward.
They trudged on, the hill's slope testing their resolve with each soggy step.
"Is it just me or does it feel like something's here with us?" Isaac asked, peering into the dark edge of the woods.
Ian scoffed. "You're just paranoid."
"It's just you, Isaac," Isabelle added, her tone light but firm.
Isaac glanced back into the trees and shook his head. "Maybe. But if something actually comes out of those woods, I'll be upset."
"You're always upset," Isabelle responded flatly.
"Am not," Isaac huffed defensively.
"Are too," Isabelle teased in return.
Ian chuckled, shaking his head. "She has a point. I've never seen someone be angrier at some logs than you."
Isaac narrowed his eyes and straightened. "Oh, so we are just gonna gang up on Isaac now?"
They all froze for a second, the forest waiting.
Then Isabelle giggled.
That broke the tension. One by one, they all laughed together, the sound echoing on the damp hillside as they continued upward.
Isabelle continued upward infront of them.
Isabelle moved ahead of them, cloak swaying with each determined step.
"Slow down, Belle. The damn church isn't going anywhere," Isaac called from behind.
"I'll be fine. We're almost there. Stop worrying so much," she shot back without looking.
"I'm with Isaac on this one, you're-" Ian started, but the ground beneath Isabelle's feet shifted before he could finish.
The rain had softened the path to mud. The soil crumbled beneath her, and in an instant she was sliding-arms flailing, legs twisting beneath her. Screams tore from her throat.
"Isaac! Ian! Help!"
Her voice pitched higher as she careened down the hillside, tumbling through slick leaves and half-buried roots until her body dropped hard into a break in the terrain—an open ravine hidden at the bottom of the slope.
She slammed into a stone wall and crumpled, the breath knocked out of her in a single violent rush. Her head struck rock as she collapsed, and everything went black.
Rain tapped her face like impatient fingers.
A voice reached her from far away.
Isabelle.
A pause.
Isabelle.
Get up.
You aren't meant to be here yet.
Get up.
She opened her eyes slowly. "Isaac?" she whispered, barely conscious.
But it wasn't Isaac.
A faint image stood in front of her-a woman, features blurred and already fading, her hand outstretched.
"Grab my hand," the woman said. "Let's go."
Isabelle blinked and reached, but the image vanished like smoke.
She was alone.
No movement. No wind. Just stone, dripping water, and the iron scent of blood.
Her hand found the side of her head wet, warm. She winced. The wound didn't feel deep, but it pulsed.
She tried to stand, legs wobbly and distant, like they weren't hers. She stumbled, caught herself against the rock wall, and finally looked up.
The pit stretched high above her. No clear way back. Her breath hitched. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something faint—flickering light farther ahead, deep within the ravine.
She didn't know who lit it.
But someone had been here before.
Isabelle steadied herself on the damp stone ledge, fingers clasped around a jagged crevice for balance. Each breath felt shallow and distant, as though she'd woken underwater. With cautious steps she followed the faint flicker of candlelight deeper into the narrow chamber, walls slick with moisture and dripping in slow, rhythmical beats. Her cloak clung to her like a second skin, heavy with rain and dust.
The space felt intentionally carved: rough-hewn pillars stood like sentries, great arches swallowed the dim glow of the lantern she couldn't hold. The air was cold, uneasy, edged with the sharp tang of mildew and scented by ancient incense residue. She shivered as she shuffled forward, the silence broken only by her own echoing footsteps.
A few strides later, the chamber opened to a wider cavern, the roof high and cavernous. There, laid across the floor in chalked lines, was a black sun: a great circle radiating dozens of jagged rays, etched with a crude outline of the village at its center. Each spoke seemed to pulse in the lantern glow.
Isabelle froze at the edge of the massive symbol. Her heart thundered, pulse knotted in her throat. She hesitated, breath failing her. The sun, dark and ominous, looked alive, a silent pendant hovering over those tiny houses. The chalked village under it was eerie, ridiculous in scale, yet impossibly precise in detail.
She swallowed hard. Why draw this down here? Uncertain, she stepped around its edge and kept walking, as though the symbol's silence demanded she not linger. But the image seared itself into her vision, refusing to be ignored.
A sudden shift in the cavern's sound, like warmth spilling into cold. Distant, overlapping voices flickered through the darkness above. Without thinking, her head tilted upward, trying to locate them.
They were soft at first, then clearer. She recognized one voice, ancient, resonant, and chilling:
"...Isaac... he must become..."
The next words dissolved into an empty echo. She swallowed, pulse pounding. He must become what? The unfinished sentence reverberated long after the voice ceased, like a promise half-spoken.
Her breath caught in her chest, heartbeat pounding against stone. The silence returned, thick and static, and in that vacuum the last syllable of Gaius's whisper still trembled—a threat, a prophecy, or perhaps both.
Isabelle drew in her breath and forced herself even deeper into the dark, lantern light shivering in her grasp. Each step carried questions she couldn't yet name—but answers that felt like knives at her spine.
Rain thundered on the rim of the ravine while Isabelle staggered deeper into the narrow shaft, disoriented and frightened, the black sun echoing in her thoughts. Suddenly, distant voices called out—fragile and wavering.
"Isabelle… Isabelle!" She stiffened at the sound, then yelled in return, her voice a trembling whisper.
"Isaac? Ian?"
Silence answered, only her own ragged breath and the drip of water.
But then a beam of sunlight pierced the darkness at the far end of the hallway she'd stumbled into—a tiny crack of light haloing a narrow opening. Hope flared in her chest.
"Isaac! Ian! I'm here!" The words echoed faster now, fear and desperate relief woven through her tone.
Above, the footsteps came, urgent, splashing, then the lantern light appeared, bobbing and alive against the stone walls.
"BELLE!" Isaac's voice thundered down.
She rushed toward the opening, legs shaking violently. Dirt and stones skittered under her boots.
Isaac and Ian leaned through the cramped shaft, grabbing her hands without hesitation.
"I've got you," Isaac gasped, knuckles white as he hauled her up. Ian's arms steadied her from the other side.
She scrambled out, collapsing against wet grass, chest heaving. Isaac held her firm. Her dark, dripping hair clung to her cheeks as she looked up, voice hoarse and trembling:
"You...you found me."
"Don't scare us like that!" Isaac yells at her " Watch your damn step"
Ian knelt beside them, scanning the opening above. "You okay?"
She closed her eyes. "I-I think so."
He let out a shaky breath. "Let's get you back up."
They braced against the muddy slope and carefully helped her to her feet. Rain still pattered around them, the air smelled of wet stone and earth—but in that moment, beside Isaac and Ian, Isabelle felt solid.
They stood together at the mouth of the ravine, rain-darkened church looming above, drenched ground around them-and the small flame of relief in her chest.