They Are Watching

Moksh learns from elders that his powers are tied to the "energies of creation" and a pendant, potentially making him a conduit for a new era. He confides in Tara and Rashid, but the weight of this destiny overwhelms him. While leaving Rashid's, Moksh discovers a mysterious "stylized eye" symbol carved into the doorframe. Rashid's reaction suggests he doesn't recognize the symbol, further deepening the mystery. Research reveals it's the mark of the Watchers, a secretive, powerful ancient order. Moksh realizes he's embroiled in something far bigger than he imagined and must now unravel the connection between the Watchers, the elders, his powers, and his destiny, knowing he can't do it alone. He will likely seek help from Tara, Rashid, and possibly Albert, while also trying to learn more about the Watchers and the pendant's true potential.

Moksh's breath hitched. The name "Watchers" echoed in the hollow chambers of his mind, a name whispered in hushed tones, shrouded in an unnerving mystique. His online search had yielded next to nothing – a few cryptic mentions, dead links, and forum threads that dissolved into speculation and fear. Frustration gnawed at him. He needed answers.

He dialed Albert's number, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the table. Two rings. "Yes, what's up?" Albert's voice was casual, but Moksh's question wiped the levity away.

"Do you know anything about the Watchers?"

A beat of silence, then Albert's tone shifted, hardening. "Yes, I know… something. But I can't vouch for its accuracy. They're ancient, Moksh. Older than you can imagine. They formed when the first Cursed Humans… appeared." The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken dread. "I don't know much more than that."

"Okay," Moksh said, a knot tightening in his stomach. He was about to disconnect when Albert's voice stopped him.

"But I know who did."

Hope surged through Moksh. "Who?"

"He's dead, Moksh. Ten years gone."

Confusion washed over Moksh. "What do you mean?"

"He mentored four of Elite 9. And you… you were his favorite."

The name hit Moksh like a jolt of electricity. "Professor Kazuto?"

"Yes," Albert confirmed. "Don't you remember? He told us about them once."

A fragmented memory surfaced, hazy but chilling. Professor Kazuto Kirigaya, his face etched with an unusual seriousness, his voice low and resonant:

"Students, you've studied much. Let me tell you a… cautionary tale. When the first Cursed Human manifested, it was weak, easily dispatched by human weapons. But the second… the second was a cataclysm. You've read about it in history – 700 years ago, the American Tragedy. After that horror, a group of… unconventional scientists, those who dabbled in the arcane, formed a clandestine order. They called themselves… the Watchers."

"Hello? Moksh? Are you there?" Albert's voice broke through the reverie.

"Yes, I'm here," Moksh replied, his mind reeling.

"What triggered this sudden interest in the Watchers? Something happen?"

"No… not exactly. I was at Rashid's house, and I saw a symbol in his room. A silver eye. I researched it, and it's connected to the Watchers. Rashid swears he's never seen it before. It's like… it just appeared."

A chill ran down Moksh's spine. Just appeared.

"Send me a picture of the symbol," Albert said. "I'll be at your place in two days. We need to talk about this."

Two days. Moksh looked at his phone, the image of the silver eye burning into his memory. He felt a growing sense of unease. This was more than just curiosity. This was something… darker.

That night, Moksh couldn't sleep. He kept thinking about Professor Kazuto's words, the way he emphasized cautionary tale. He remembered something else, too, something the Professor had said just before dismissing the class that day: "Some knowledge… is best left buried."

The next morning, Moksh went to Rashid's house. He needed to see the room again, to understand. Rashid was out, but the back door was unlocked. Moksh slipped inside, his heart pounding. He found the room, the air thick with an oppressive stillness. The silver eye symbol was gone. In its place, scratched into the wooden floorboards, was a single word, written in a strange, angular script Moksh didn't recognize. It wasn't any language he knew. But beneath it, in perfect, chilling English, was a single sentence:

They are watching.

Moksh's breath hitched. They are watching. The words echoed in the silence of the room, cold and menacing. He felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, as if unseen eyes were boring into him. He fumbled for his phone, snapping a picture of the strange inscription on the floor. He had to get out of there.

As he turned to leave, he noticed something else. A faint, almost imperceptible scent hung in the air – something metallic, tinged with a hint of decay. It was a smell he vaguely recognized, a smell he'd encountered once before, years ago, during a training exercise with Elite 9. The scent of… Cursed Human blood.

He rushed out of the house, his mind racing. The symbol, the inscription, the smell – it all pointed to something far more sinister than he'd initially imagined. Rashid's denial now seemed less like ignorance and more like… fear. He'd seen something, Moksh was sure of it. But what?

Two days later, Albert arrived. He studied the picture of the silver eye symbol, his brow furrowed. "This is definitely a Watcher symbol," he confirmed. "But it's an older version, one I haven't seen in years."

Then, Moksh showed him the picture of the inscription. Albert's face paled. "This… this is ancient Sumerian," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "It translates to… 'The veil is thin.'"

"The veil?" Moksh asked, confused.

"It's a term the Watchers used," Albert explained. "They believed that the barrier between our world and… other realms… was weakening. That the Cursed Humans were just the beginning."

Moksh told him about the smell, the metallic scent he'd recognized. Albert's eyes widened. "That's impossible," he said. "Cursed Humans haven't been sighted in this area for decades."

"Maybe that's what they want us to think," Moksh countered. "Maybe they're hiding."

Albert nodded slowly. "You're right. We need to be careful, Moksh. This is bigger than we thought."

They decided to visit Rashid together. This time, Rashid was home. He was nervous, fidgety, his eyes darting around the room. When Moksh showed him the picture of the symbol, he paled visibly.

"I… I don't know anything about that," he stammered.

"Don't lie to us, Rashid," Albert said, his voice firm. "We know you've seen something."

Rashid hesitated, then finally broke down. "Okay, okay, I saw it," he confessed. "A few weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night. There was a… a figure standing in my room. Tall, gaunt, with glowing red eyes. It was just… watching me."

"Did it say anything?" Moksh asked.

"No," Rashid replied. "It just stood there, then vanished. I haven't seen it since. But… I've been hearing things. Whispers in the dark. Footsteps when I'm alone."

Moksh and Albert exchanged a look. This was getting more dangerous by the minute.

As they left Rashid's house, Albert turned to Moksh. "We need to find out what the Watchers are planning," he said. "And we need to do it fast."

Suddenly, a black van screeched to a halt in front of them. Two men in dark suits jumped out, their faces grim. "Moksh and Albert," one of them said. "We need you to come with us."

Moksh felt a surge of fear. Who were these men? And what did they want with them? As they were forced into the van, Moksh noticed something glinting on the driver's hand. A silver ring. Engraved on it was the symbol of the Watchers.

The mystery: Who are these men? Are they part of the Watchers? Or are they trying to stop them? And what is "the veil" that the Sumerian inscription mentioned?