Chapter 1 : Arrival

"Winning this island paradise trip is the luckiest break I've had in a while," I mumbled as the island came into view. 

Well, at least according to my friend Becca. 

I'm not sure if this is what I'd call lucky. Sure, a free vacation… uhmm… sounds nice—in theory. But being stuck in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers high on vacation sickness? Big no-no for me.

Becca practically shoved me into this, saying stuff like, "This should be good for you," something about "getting out of my comfort zone" and "I deserve a break." I sighed, adjusting my grip on my bag. My mind ran through a mental checklist of the things I packed, overthinking whether I forgot something.

Another reason I wasn't exactly thrilled about this trip? I was ridiculously unequipped for it. Aside from my school uniforms, my wardrobe was seriously lacking. All I had were a bunch of casual clothes—not exactly fit for an island getaway. But of course, Becca, bless her kindness, had me covered. She lent me most of what I brought—shoes, clothes, even this bag I was using. Some of the clothes were a size too big. She said I looked fine. Personally, I thought I looked funny, but if she said it was okay, then it was probably okay.

The boat rocked slightly as we got closer to the docks. I actually looked this place up before coming, and I guess those vloggers weren't lying. Hmm… An island paradise mixed with rich cultural heritage—at least, that's what they said.

The other passengers chatted excitedly, snapping pictures of the scenery unfolding before us, pointing at the trees lining the beach—palm trees? Coconut trees? I honestly don't know the difference. Meanwhile, I just stood there, fidgeting with the strap of my bag, unsure of what to do. So, I just stared at the beach, doing nothing. "You're really good at this, Ariane," I mumbled to myself in disappointment.

I'm not really an expert on beaches, but I'd say this one is pretty breathtaking. The blue sea meeting the white sand feels like a dream come to life. The warm breeze against my face only adds to the brochure-like perfection of this place. Honestly, I thought it would be a huge disappointment—considering I got the trip for free and all—but it's nice to be proven wrong.

"We have safely arrived, You may now proceed towards the docks. Have a nice stay at Sapphire Cove," the captain cheerfully announced. 

I had planned to step off the boat with dignity, marking a new chapter in my life, embracing change, and stepping out of my comfort zone. Instead, I was swept up in the crowd of passengers rushing off the boat. So much for a grand entrance.

The area near the docks was… lively, I guess. There was singing, dancing, and some kind of play happening in the middle of the street. It felt like a festival — a lot of colors, a lot of noise. Not exactly my kind of thing, though.

I stick to the sidelines as much as I can. Enjoying the festivities from a distance. I don't know what happened to stepping out of my comfort zone, but I'm okay with this. It's just... how I am. Looking around, I see all these stalls, each one selling something different. I've always liked places like this. Most of the time, it's the only place I can afford to buy things.

As I wandered through the rows of stalls near the docks, one caught my attention—a small stall run by an even smaller girl. Her store was filled with stones and trinkets, each one looking like it had a story. She wore a faded, rainbow tie-dyed dress, not as bright as the outfits the other locals had on. But what stood out the most was her expression—bored, completely unfitting for someone dressed so colorfully.

Her wares got me curious though—a mix of colored stones, wooden and paper talismans, small bottles filled with what I assumed were leaves, a rusted decorative knife, and… uhh, something I could only assume was… uhm, snake oil??

"Hello, stranger. Is there something you'd like to buy?" Her sudden speech caught me off guard. She had this unusual, monotonous tone—like she had practiced the line a lot but somehow practiced it… wrong.

"I'm going to buy this," picking up a random stone on the display – may social anxiety kicked in. I randomly pick up a stone, It's just a small, smooth pebble—deep black with this weird glossy sheen. Cool to the touch at first, but the longer I hold it, the warmer it gets. When the light hits just right, I swear I can see faint traces of dark violet and blue shimmering across the surface. It's almost too perfect, like either time or someone's hands shaped it just right

The girl gave me this disapproving look, shrugs and then pulled a piece of paper from her bag.

"Here,read this," the girl's voice was monotonous and how do I say this… it lacks emotion? She handed me the piece of paper.

I took it. This girl made my skin crawl. There was something deeply unsettling about her—maybe it was her calm, unreadable demeanor, something even I, at my age, can't achieve.

"Uh... what's this?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady—trying not to sound afraid of a ten-year-old girl.

"Read it," she said, her expression growing even more bored with every passing second of our interaction.

Wanderer's Pebble (Stones & Trinkets)

Product Name: Obsidian PearlOrigin: The ruins of the nameless, fallen godQuality: Unnaturally smoothPurpose: [The space is scratched out, as if something was once there... but isn't anymore.]Signature: ___________

At the very bottom, there was a small disclaimer:

"For all intents and purposes, whatever effect this stone has on your life—no refunds!"

Really reassuring.

I was going to ask about it, but the child's gaze weirded me out. So, I just signed it—to avoid being here any longer.

She placed the stone in a simple yet elegant box—classy. It wasn't something you'd usually find in a place like this.

"That would be $100, please," the girl said, her tone suddenly much brighter.

I handed her the money without question. She snatched it up, packed her stall in an instant, and left.

I was dumbfounded by how fast everything happened. I just stood there, holding a box in my hands, confusion settling in. Then it hit me.

"Is this what they call a tourist trap?" I mumbled.

I let out a small smile, laughed at my own misfortune, and kept walking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bus to the hotel was quite fun. It took me a while to find the correct one, but I still got there eventually.

Uhmm, a guide was there. He narrated the backstories of each ruin. Each ruin had a different look, like they had their own personalities to set them apart from one another. The best part? I get to explore them later.

According to the guide, each ruin was once a temple dedicated to a specific god—gods who were worshiped by the natives in the past.

I remember the stone I bought earlier, it said that it came from the ruins of the unknown fallen god, but it didn't come up at all during the bus ride. I tried asking the guid about it, but she just looked at me funny and then proceeded on doing other stuff. This further cemented that I was scammed.

Honestly, these ruins are what I've been looking forward to the most on this trip. There's something about them that feels almost otherworldly, like stepping into a forgotten story. This island has a kind of whimsical feel to it, something I haven't felt since I was a kid. It reminds me of a time when everything was simpler, when my biggest worry was whether I could stay outside a little longer before dinner. Back when I could lose myself in daydreams without overthinking, letting my imagination run wild without feeling silly for it.

To be honest, after that point, everything felt like one big blur—but in the best way possible. I wasn't overthinking too much or second-guessing my every move. Everything felt natural—felt normal. I just went with the flow, taking things as they came. And, surprisingly, I was having fun. It was a rare feeling, one I hadn't really planned for, but here I was. I could almost forget how out of place I usually felt in places like this.

I noticed a few glances from the other tourists—the kind I've been getting my whole life. That quiet, judgmental gaze, picking apart how I act, how I interact. This time, it felt like they were judging me for being alone on a vacation like this. Maybe they pitied me, maybe they were just curious, or maybe they thought it was sad. I don't know, and honestly, I don't care. I never cared much before, so why should I start now? I was just starting to have fun—no point in ruining it over something so trivial.

Noteworthy things about this island? The beach—yeah, it's pretty breathtaking. I don't even like beaches or any form of water in general, but this one felt different. Way better than I expected when I first saw it from the boat. Almost unreal. And the sunset? That's on a whole different level. For a moment, it didn't even feel like I was in the same world anymore.

The people? Yeah, they're insanely hospitable. I mean, I come from a place known for being welcoming, but these guys take it to a whole new level. It almost feels... too much? Like, they keep handing out free stuff to tourists, which is nice and all, but kind of weird. Then I heard the government actually gives them subsidies for it, and somehow, that just made it even weirder.

But I couldn't care less, having fun is the priority right now.

One of the more interesting things about this island? The cosplayers. Or, well, I think they're cosplayers. The place is crawling with hooded figures—I've seen a bunch of them wandering around the ruins. I remember reading something about them online. Roleplayers, if I'm not mistaken. Apparently, they take this kind of thing really seriously, so yeah, probably best not to bother them.

Seventh and final day. Honestly, I'd call this trip a success. I don't think I've ever felt this relaxed before—it's almost unsettling. Maybe I should take vacations more often? Not that I can afford to. Now, all that's left is to wait for my boat ride back and return to my pathetic old life. 

As I was packing my bags—folding clothes, stuffing in souvenirs, and making sure I wasn't leaving anything behind—my eyes landed on a small box. The one I bought on my first day. I had completely forgotten about it, probably because I wrote it off as some kind of scam. But now that I was looking at it again, I couldn't help but feel a little curious. I pulled it out and turned it over in my hands. Still as mysterious as when I first saw it. It looked nice, sure, but nothing about it really stood out. Obsidian pearls? Sounds like something straight out of a video game.

I picked up the box next, turning it over in my hands. Aside from its simple yet classy design, there wasn't anything particularly odd about it—though, to be fair, it did seem a little too fancy for the kind of stall I bought it from. Still, it wasn't weird enough to raise any alarms. I decided to take a look inside. Of course, there was nothing. What did I even expect?

"So that's it, huh?" I mumbled, feeling a little let down. I was hoping for something at least mildly interesting to wrap up my trip. But no—it was just an ordinary pebble inside an overly dramatic box.

I was about to toss it aside when I noticed something taped to the lid—a folded piece of paper. It was the same document I had signed when I bought it. I unfolded it, skimmed through—nothing new. But when I flipped it over, I paused. There was a map—a map of the island. And right in the middle of it, an X mark. Probably the ruins where this thing came from.

I immediately grabbed the map the hotel had provided to see where the X mark was. When I found the spot, there was nothing there—no markings, no roads, not even any signs indicating something of interest. The paper had mentioned the pebble was taken from a ruin, but there was no ruin marked anywhere on the map in that area. So, was it unmarked? Unknown? Undiscovered? It was fully driving my curiosity to its limit.

To be honest, the best part of this trip was the ruins. There were twelve in total, and I managed to visit every single one. Were they worth it? Sure, I guess. But honestly, they've all just turned into tourist spots at this point, and there's no real magic left in them. But this one… this one might've been something else. Something untouched, something grand—just the kind of thing that could've made this trip from great to perfect.

'Okay it's decided, one final adventure before going home,' I mumbled. I'm just going to take a look right? To see if there's something there. If there's nothing there… well it's okay, it's not like I waste tons of time. But, if… there's really something there… then perfect.

I grabbed my backpack and started stuffing it with the essentials—sunblock, insect spray, a flashlight, spare batteries, and the flare gun they gave us for emergencies. Kind of exciting, honestly. Guns aren't exactly common where I'm from, so just holding one felt a little surreal. I tossed in plenty of snacks and a bottle of water, then grabbed the pearl from its box and slipped it into my pocket—maybe for good luck I thought. And with that, I was ready to go.

"Leaving today, right? Where are you off to now?" the receptionist asked, barely looking up.

"Uh… just exploring a bit more before heading home later," I answered, keeping my voice polite.

"Alone again, I assume?" she added, that same annoying smirk on her face.

If there's one thing I'd complain about on this trip, it's her. From the moment I checked in, she's had this weird condescending attitude toward me—for no reason at all.

"You should know the drill by now, right?" she said in that same condescending tone, tilting her tablet toward me. A map of the island was displayed on the screen. "Point to where you're heading today. You know, for safety." 

I double-checked my map, making sure I had the right place, then pointed at the screen. For a split second, the receptionist's face... changed. Like a glitch in a program—just the tiniest flicker of something off—before she smoothed it over, back to her usual composed self.

"There's nothing there. Did you get it wrong?" she asked, her tone strangely polite. Which… weirded me out. Politeness wasn't exactly something I expected from her.

"I… uhm… just gonna explore," I lied—badly.

Her eye twitched. "Are you sure about that? We can't guarantee your safety if you go to unmarked spots on the island."

"I suggest you reconsider your destination," she added, still polite, but with this cold edge to her voice.

"Okay, fine," I muttered, backing off. She was acting way too weird, and honestly, I wasn't about to start an argument over this. So, I just pointed at some random spot on the map to get it over with. "I'll just go here then."

Her expression immediately went back to normal. "Great! Should I arrange transportation for you?" she asked.

"Uh… thanks, but I think I'll just take one of the electric carts outside," I replied, a little thrown off. I gestured toward the row of golf carts parked outside.

She smirked. "Being a loner as usual, then?" And just like that, she was back to her usual condescending self. She grabbed a key from the box behind the counter and handed it to me. "Take the one with number four on it.

I took the key, muttered a quick thanks, and started toward the door when I heard her mumble, "Don't do anything stupid."

I stopped. "What?"

She didn't hesitate. "I said, don't do anything stupid." Then, with the smuggest tone imaginable, she added, "Have fun."

I stared at her, caught somewhere between shock and irritation. "…Okay?" was all I could manage before turning on my heel and walking out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The ruins of the nameless fallen god"

'Something named so grand for something this derelict'

Well, the map was right. There was something in this area. There's actual ruin here. But getting here is a whole new different story. When I decided to go here, on this random spot in a map that I randomly found, why did I even think for a moment that there would be roads? From this ruin to the nearest road is like 2 miles of foliage. I push through that, I'd like to think that I look majestic, an Indiana jones-like type of person while muscling my way through all those trees. But sadly, I was stumbling all the way till I got here.

I looked down at my legs, and suddenly, wearing cargo shorts for this trip didn't feel so tactical after all. My already less-than-flawless skin was now covered in scratches—probably from all the tree branches that had taken a swipe at me.

And now that I'm here, all I can say is that this place is an actual ruin – not like those other ruins around the island. The place is clearly not getting the treatment that the other places are getting. but weirdly enough, I kinda dig it?

Did I have a hard time getting here? Yes.

Am I about to get a nasty infection from all the scratches on my legs? Probably.

Do I like the place? Absolutely.

Looking around, this is the most untouched place I've seen on the island. It feels like modern life never reached it—like time simply forgot about it, leaving it frozen in its former glory. The way the greenery has started reclaiming the ruins only adds to the magic, as if nature itself is trying to take back what was once its own.

And the size? It's massive. Easily ten times bigger than any of the other ruins I've visited.

It makes me wonder… who was this nameless fallen god, to have something like this built in their honor? and why are the locals not taking more care of this place?

Stepping inside, it's even more breathtaking. At the center stands a towering structure that looks like a temple. The path leading up to it is lined with seven arches, each inscribed with words that sadly, I don't recognize. The carvings are faded—either worn down by time or maybe… uhmm.. erased? by the hands of those who once worshiped here. In the courtyard, there's what used to be a fountain, now dry and crumbling, but I can tell it must have been stunning in its prime.

I peek into the temple, and time has clearly left its mark. Cracked walls, dust clinging to every surface, pillars worn thin, and in the center—a broken altar. Normally, I wouldn't even consider stepping into a place like this.

But my curiosity won this time.

Taking a closer look at the temple, I started noticing details that offered more insight into its purpose.

The ceiling was covered in murals, each one seemingly depicting the six stages of life—from infancy to late adulthood. At first, they seemed ordinary, almost peaceful. But as the progression continued, the imagery grew more unsettling. More suffering. More decay.

There was definitely a story here. But whatever it was, the largest mural—the centerpiece, the most important one—had been erased. By what, or by whom, I had no idea.

Looking around, I noticed six other altars aligned with the murals on the ceiling. Their sizes varied, probably corresponding to the stage of life they were linked to.

At the main altar—the one directly beneath the erased mural—something caught my eye. A brief glimmer of light.

I stepped closer.

It was a stone tablet—its inscription erased, just like the mural above it.

I was about to touch it when I heard people coming. I instinctively hide behind one of the pillars. I don't have any reason to hide, but my intuition told me to.

I tried to peek at them from where I was hiding.

It was… uhm… the cosplayers—the hooded figures I had seen wandering around the island. The ones I had been deliberately avoiding because, well, they creeped me out. I usually saw them in small groups, three or four at a time. Even then, they unsettled me, but at least they seemed harmless.

But now? There were hundreds of them.

And now, they weren't just unsettling. They were frightening. Alarming. Cult-like, if you ask me.

To add to the whole cult vibe, some of them were carrying torches. What for? I had no idea—the place was already bright enough without them.

The torches were unsettling on their own, but then… they started wheeling in coffins. An assortment of them, varying in size.

Yeah. That was my sign to get out of here.

I immediately scanned the temple for a way out—somewhere far from the cosplayers… or cultists.

The front gate? Obviously a no-go. Sneaking past that many people would be impossible. The windows? Also useless. With my next to nothing physical prowess, there was no way I was climbing out of those.

Then I saw it—a crack in the wall, just big enough for me to squeeze through.

I moved slowly—carefully—crawling toward the crack in the wall, doing everything I could to stay out of sight. Every movement felt agonizingly loud, every breath a risk.

I almost got caught. Twice.

The first time, I accidentally kicked a loose rock while shifting from one cover to another. The sound of it tumbling across the floor made my heart stop. I held my breath, waiting for someone to notice, for a head to turn in my direction—but nothing happened.

The second time was worse. I hadn't seen him. A man standing just a few feet away from me, his face hidden under that same eerie hood. I froze. If he glanced at my general direction , he would see me. I stayed perfectly still, barely daring to breathe. Seconds stretched endlessly—then, finally, he moved on.

I swallowed down my panic and pressed forward.

And in the end, luck was still on my side. No one noticed me.

Half of my body had already slipped through the hole when I heard it—

A voice.

"Somebody help!"

A woman's voice, muffled but clear, echoing inside my head. It came from one of the coffins. My heart skipped a beat.

I stayed frozen, listening. The sound was faint, like the coffin had been soundproofed, but I was sure I heard it right.

I wanted—needed—to believe these people were just roleplaying. Some kind of weird, over-the-top performance. But even for roleplay… wasn't this a little too much?

A shudder ran down my spine as a darker thought crept in.

What if they weren't cosplayers? What if this wasn't a game?

What if I was about to witness an actual ritual? An actual cult?

An actual murder?

My heart pounded at the thought.

I instinctively grabbed my phone, searching for anyone—anyone—I could call. The emergency number the receptionist gave me came to mind.

I dialed it, fumbling a few times, my hands shaking with fear. Cosplayers, cult, or whatever—they didn't matter. I had to help that girl.

My throat dried up when I heard the familiar message—No Service.

Why did I even think there'd be reception here? Duh. There aren't even roads, so why would there be a signal?

I tried to come up with another plan, anything to help. But one after another, every idea was either too risky or downright impossible for me.

I grabbed my bag, rummaging through it desperately, my hands shaking as I searched. I didn't even know what I was looking for—just something, anything that could help. 

"Why the fuck did I bring so many snacks?" I thought, shoving the useless packs aside.

My hands kept shoving useless things aside when I saw it—the flare gun, still in its box. I froze for a second before quickly grabbing it. 

"This is it," I thought. Not exactly a weapon, but enough to cause a decent distraction.

I immediately ripped the box open and counted—two shots, bullets, shells, whatever they were called.

My fingers trembled as I loaded the gun.

Now, let's be honest—there's no way I can save those people on my own. Yes, I can help, but I can't save them.

So, there are only two priorities right now—Distract those people inside and then get help.

First, I needed to get the attention of anyone who could help.

"Just point and shoot, right?" I muttered to myself.

I remembered hearing somewhere that it should be fired at a certain angle, but who was I kidding? I wasn't even sure if this thing would be visible in the middle of the day.

But hey, I can hope, right? If not, then those people are basically dead.

My hands were shaking as I pulled the trigger. There was a slight kickback, but honestly, I couldn't care less about that right now.

I quickly scanned the area, hoping no one had noticed. Luckily, it seemed like everyone was still inside the temple.

Now for the second part of the plan—distract them.

There was really only one option: shoot the flare inside the temple and hope it was enough to divert their attention.

And that's exactly what I did.

ingers still trembling, I reloaded the flare gun, aimed toward the ceiling of the temple, pulled the trigger, and hoped for the best.

Flare still in hand, I immediately ran away. I didn't even bother to check if my plan had worked.

I'm the kind of person that most of you can describe as clumsy. I usually trip and fall on a semi-frequent basis, that's why I always keep a bunch of first aid stuff in my bag. so not tripping and falling flat on my face while running away can be considered a genuine miracle. I can feel my heart beating really fast as I run away from the temple. My legs hurt, my eyes feel blurry, I feel like about to throw up. I didn't even run that far, what was that? around 100 or 200 meters? — how can someone be this un-athletic?

I made a beeline for the direction I came from, heading toward the cart I borrowed from the hotel. I wasn't sure if I could make it through all that foliage from earlier, but I had to try.

My head felt like it was splitting from the adrenaline coursing through my body.

When I turned around, I saw—nothing.

Where were the cultists? Did no one follow me? Curiously, I slowly made my way back to the temple, taking a side route where nobody would spot me.

'Arianne, you should not be doing this,' I muttered to myself. this is how people in movies die.as I approach the temple I tried listening to what was happening inside the temple, but there was — nothing? Did I imagine everything earlier? Are these people just actual roleplayers and not a cult? But the silence is really weird? And what of the flare I shot earlier, that should cause quite a panic.

I tried peeking inside, and that's when I thought to myself, Arianne, you are so dumb for coming back here.

What I saw made my stomach drop. The cultists were all in some kind of trance, moving in unison, locked in a strange, ritualistic dance around the coffin they had brought in. Each group had one member holding a comically large knife, the blade glinting ominously in the dim light.

The thought of what I was about to witness petrified me.my eyes were glued to the cultist as they raised their hands, the ones with the blade readying themselves to stab the coffins in front of them. 

'No!' I shouted in my mind as the cultists began forcing their blades into the coffin. The sound of wood breaking echoed inside the temple. Splinters, parts of the coffin, came flying all over the place. The voices of the people inside the coffins, now embedded in my subconscious—wails of suffering and pain. Their blood, now pooling beneath the cultists.

When the last cultist finished doing the deed, all of them stopped. In unison, they froze, standing motionless like statues, their bodies limp. It was as if time itself stopped inside the temple—everything standing still.

I stood there, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene unfolding before me. My body felt heavy, as if the weight of what I'd just witnessed was sinking deep inside me. An actual sacrificial ritual. The words, the absurdity of it all, barely registered in my mind. Everything felt so surreal, like I was caught in a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. But the reality was undeniable—this wasn't some twisted performance; this was the real deal.

'I have to go,' a voice kept whispering in the back of my mind. I should've run ages ago, but the horror of what I'd just witnessed kept my body rooted in place, my mind too afraid to move—too terrified to even take a single step.

Looking inside the temple, it felt like ages had passed. The cultists remained unmoving, their faces frozen in an expressionless state, void of any signs that they were once alive . It was like they were part of the surroundings, blending perfectly into the temple as if they belonged there. Then, just when I thought everything had come to an end, something far worse began to unfold. My blood ran cold as I felt the air around me twist. It was as though the boundary between this world and something much darker was starting to blur. I couldn't quite explain it, but there was a shift—something so unnatural was happening.

From where I stood, I could see some sort of red mist seeping out from the assortment of holes where the cultists' blades pierced the coffins. It flowed slowly, it felt alive as its unsettling presence spread through the air. 

Slowly, the mist surrounded the cultists, curling around them like a thick fog. One by one, they collapsed, as if the mist had drained the very life from them.

Then, the mist gathered at the center altar, swirling around the stone tablet with the erased scripture. It seemed to be drawn to it, as if the tablet itself was absorbing the mist, pulling it into its depths. The tablet began to glow, its surface lighting up with an eerie intensity. Slowly, the erased scripture reappeared, now rewritten in a language I couldn't comprehend.

Staring at it, I could swear the mist was forming a shape—becoming solid, morphing into tentacle-like appendages that reached out and grabbed the coffins around the altar. Then, in a horrifying instant, the coffins exploded into a thousand pieces, and shadows of varying sizes poured out, emerging like wraiths. They danced on the ceiling of the temple—twisting and spinning, as if celebrating their newfound freedom.

And then, in the blink of an eye, the shadows, mist, and tentacles compressed into a reddish obsidian sphere, floating ominously above the ancient tablet.

I could feel the obsidian pearl—the one I bought from the stall—burning in my pocket. The sharp pain yanked me out of the trance I was in. Now is the time to run, for real this time.

The earth suddenly shook beneath me, and I could feel the temple crumbling. But I couldn't move, not even an inch. I kept my eyes locked on the sphere, watching as cracks began to form around it, like the fabric of space itself was unraveling. Then, without warning, the sphere exploded into a million shards. I felt one of them embed itself into my shoulder. The pain was almost too much to handle—my shoulder burned like it was on fire from the inside. But somehow, that pain was the only thing that made me move again.

Clutching my shoulder, I staggered away from the temple, dodging falling debris. It was slow, painfully slow, but at least I was moving forward. I kept telling myself, I'm almost there. The path through the foliage was in sight, and I could almost taste safety. But I couldn't shake the feeling that death was right behind me, creeping closer.

I was almost there, I told myself, but as I reached the arches in the courtyard, one of them collapsed. Then, everything went black.