Misinterpreted Truths

The silence that follows the staircase inscriptions lingers too long.

The words carved into the stone weigh heavy, an uneasy echo stretching into the dim corridors of the ruin.

Elias is quiet.

I am… thinking.

And Edan?

Edan is too focused, his mind already unravelling the meaning of what we just saw.

——

"These markings," Edan finally says, his voice measured, "aren't part of the original ruins."

Elias crosses his arms, leaning against one of the cracked stone pillars. "No kidding. Looks like someone had a bit of a breakdown while carving them in."

Edan ignores him, his fingers tracing the uneven script. "But the phrasing—'a soul that is seen by none, a lonely spirit, wandering, swallowing, waiting to be whole'—this isn't just madness. It sounds like a direct reference to the Black Spirits."

I blink. "What?"

Edan gestures to the inscription, his expression serious.

"It makes sense," he explains. "The Black Spirits are known to be solitary, never fully belonging to this world. They consume, they grow, but they are never truly… whole."

Elias's fingers twitch slightly. "Right."

Edan doesn't notice.

He continues, his voice shifting into scholar's mode, analysing, explaining, understanding—and misunderstanding.

——

"I've seen texts before that describe the Black Spirits as beings that exist between realms," Edan says, pacing slightly. "They do not belong to this world, but they were called here, summoned, or perhaps… created."

Elias's breath hitches, but he says nothing.

I shift slightly. "Created?"

Edan nods, clearly enthusiastic now. "There are theories—unproven, of course—that suggest the Black Spirits are the result of an ancient experiment. That they were meant to be something else before… before whatever they are now."

He gestures back at the inscriptions.

"And this text supports that theory. The Ancients may have been the ones to first encounter them, to bring them into this world, only to later realize the mistake and try to destroy them."

I glance at Elias.

His jaw is tense.

He knows this is wrong.

Knows that what Edan is interpreting is not the truth.

But he does not correct him.

——

Edan exhales, stepping closer to a more intact section of the text, eyes narrowing as he slowly translates aloud.

"The system has failed. The balance has shattered. What was created is not what was meant to be."

He frowns, thoughtful. "'System' here is an interesting word choice. If I had to guess, this was probably the Ancients' way of describing their own magical infrastructure—whatever force they used to control energy and power. It must have collapsed, allowing the corruption to spread unchecked."

I press my lips together.

Elias lets out a quiet, short laugh—one that has nothing to do with amusement.

But Edan is too deep in thought to notice.

He moves down the inscription, tracing his fingers over another section.

"A game without rules. A world that is mirrored, fractured, broken."

Edan tilts his head. "The Ancients seemed to believe that our world was… incomplete. That there was something else, perhaps another dimension or a plane of existence that reflected ours. That would explain the existence of the Shadow Realm—the space where Black Spirits originate before they bond with their hosts."

He nods to himself, convinced by his own reasoning.

I steal another glance at Elias.

His hands have curled into tight fists, his breathing measured.

I realize, then—

He is listening to every word, but not because he is learning.

He is listening because he already knows the truth.

Because Edan is reading a history that does not belong to the Black Spirits at all.

And Elias knows it.

——

Edan finally steps back from the inscription, arms crossed.

"This confirms my suspicions," he muses. "These ruins, and likely others like them, were left behind by the Ancients to warn future generations about the Black Spirits."

Elias chuckles, the sound dry. "That so?"

Edan nods, completely unaware of the weight behind the question. "It makes perfect sense. The phrasing, the metaphors—it all aligns with what we already know. The Black Spirits are wanderers, they take hosts, they consume to grow stronger. And the Ancients clearly foresaw what would happen if they were left unchecked."

I hesitate. "Then why leave the message in such a… chaotic way?"

Edan frowns, considering.

"That is the part I don't fully understand," he admits. "This wasn't written by the Ancients themselves, but by someone who found their records. Perhaps a later scholar, one who saw too much and… lost themselves to it."

He exhales, shaking his head. "Whatever the case, one thing is clear—this is a warning. And we need to uncover more of these ruins if we want the full truth."

Elias hums. "The full truth, huh?"

Edan nods. "Exactly."

Elias smirks. "Then I suppose we'd better keep digging."

Edan looks pleased. "Good. The next site I planned to investigate is further inland, near Heidel—"

He stops.

I stop.

Elias is still smirking, but his eyes are sharp, unreadable.

And I understand, in that moment—

He is lying.

He will not correct Edan.

He will let him keep believing this is all about Black Spirits.

Because the truth?

The real truth?

That these words were never about the Black Spirits at all—that they were about something else, something bigger, something more terrifying—

That truth is something Elias does not want spoken aloud.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

——

Edan continues speaking about his next expedition, about travel plans and excavation logistics, but I barely hear him.

Because I am still watching Elias.

Still watching the way he holds himself.

How calm he looks, how effortlessly he plays along.

And I realise something unsettling.

Elias is not just adapting to this world.

He is learning how to navigate it, manipulate it, survive in it.

And I do not know if that should comfort me…

Or terrify me.