Leo's body still ached from the Bloodclaw's ruthless assault. His torn clothes clung to his bruised flesh, and dried blood covered his hands, but at least the bleeding had stopped. He had washed in the river, numbing the pain with the icy water, but now, sitting in the darkness of the cave, reality was setting in. He was alone. Separate from the rest. And if he didn't think of something quickly, he wouldn't last very long.
The cave was his best and only viable option for shelter. The overhang by the river had kept him dry, but it left him exposed to the elements and any wandering animals. He needed something defendable, someplace deep enough in that he would have at least some notice before something wandered into him.
He forced himself to his feet, his body protesting with every step, and retrieved a sturdy branch he had seen lying on the riverbank. It was little enough of a weapon, but it was the best he had. He drew a deep breath and turned and went deeper into the cave.
The farther in he went, the more the silence oppressed him. Not the comfortable night-dark of the forest, with rustling leaves and distant animal calls. No, this was something else—an oppressive quiet, as if the cave itself was holding its breath.
The dim light from the cave entrance vanished, swallowed up by the boundless darkness. He broke off some dry moss and applied it to the end of his branch, knocking two stones together until a spark caught. Slowly the flickering fire grew, casting jagged shadows on the walls of the cavern.
The rock below and around him was etched with odd markings—lines carved with purpose, worn by age but still legible. Some looked like symbols, others like figures of individuals, but he could decipher none of them. Who had made these?
As he studied them, the hairs at the back of his neck stiffened.
He was not alone.
No sound, no movement. But he felt it. A presence. Watching. Waiting.
His fist tightened on the torch. He turned, his eyes scanning slowly into the blackness, but there was nothing. His breathing was even, but his heart pounded against his chest.
He took another step forward.
Something changed. Not physically—not exactly—it was more as though the air itself changed, becoming heavy around him. The weight of unseen eyes pushed against his back, and his instincts screamed at him to run.
But he didn't.
He whispered, instead, "God's Eye."
His sight blurred with a faint glow, and lines of text inscribed themselves into the walls of the cave. Some were unreadable, scrambled characters, but others…
"Ancient Structure – Unknown Origin."
"Residual Mana Detected."
"??? – Presence Acknowledged."
Leo's breath star the d to get heavier. Presence acknowledged?
He swallowed and forced himself to move further in. The deeper he went, the more intense the feeling became, like invisible tentacles wrapped around him, compelling him forward. It wasn't hostile yet—just there. Something in this cave was marking his presence.
At last, after what felt like hours, the tunnel opened into a huge room. The flickering fire barely lit the walls of the room, but even with the dim light, Leo could sense that this room was not the same.
At the center of the room stood an ornate, full-size mirror.
It was spotlessly clean, its surface unblemished by dust or the ravages of time. Its frame was black and intricately carved with curving designs that resembled eyes and flowing script—the same markings that covered the walls of the cave.
Leo stepped forward, but before he could even attempt to use God's Eye, his reflection in the mirror blinked.
He froze.
His own face stared back at him, but for a fraction of a second, it had moved—independently of him.
His hands trembled, but he forced himself to examine it more closely.
"God's Eye," he whispered once more.
The words appeared, wavering as though unstable.
"??? – Relic Sealed. Requirements Not Met."
Leo exhaled in a sudden hiss. A relic? This was no mirror, whatever it was. He reached out, hesitating just before his fingers made contact with the surface. It was cold—colder than it had any right to be, as though it was not glass but something behind, something ancient.
His reflection was normal once more. No blinking, no strange movements. Had it been a trick of the light, perhaps?
Or maybe not.
The presence in the cave was still present. Watching. Waiting.
Leo pulled his hand back. He had no idea what this thing was, but it was not normal.
And for now, that was reason enough to leave it be.
Leo took one last look at the chamber before turning and going back the way he'd come. The feeling of being watched remained, but it did not follow. Whatever that presence was, it was bound to this chamber.
When he had at last made it to the riverbank, exhaustion took him quite suddenly. He gathered some dry wood, struggling laboriously to ignite a spark, but however hard he tried he could not bring a spark to life.
In the humiliation of defeat, he thought about everything that had happened. The mirror, the strange messages from God's Eye, the presence that refused to reveal itself.
He had no clue what he had discovered, but one thing was certain.
This world was far more dangerous—and far more mysterious—than he had ever imagined.
And he had barely touched the surface of its mysteries.