The Forgotten Vault

The wind howled through the old mining town like it remembered screams.

Lucien stepped out first, her boots hitting gravel, bag slung over one shoulder. Mira followed, her fingers tracing the edge of the map like it might vanish. Dave and Jonas carried the gear. Krane scanned everything like he expected it to explode.

"This place look like it got abandoned twice," Jonas muttered. "Once by people, then by ghosts."

Lucien didn't even blink. "Sounds about right."

They passed rusted buildings, empty saloons, and a chapel leaning sideways like it was giving up on faith. The ground crunched beneath them, but the silence? That was loud.

Then they found it.

A hidden shaft behind an old billboard, partially buried in dirt. Just like the Shaman Book said.

Lucien's hand hovered near her bag.

"He's been here," she whispered.

Mira felt it too—her spine chilled like it had been kissed by something that shouldn't be alive.

They stepped inside.

The tunnel was carved in black stone, damp and humid. Flashlights flickered. Every step sounded like it wasn't alone.

Krane stopped at a scorched metal door, glyphs still pulsing.

Burned into the metal were the words:

"If you chase echoes, be ready to become one."

Jonas backed up. "Nah. Nope. I'm not becoming nobody's echo today."

Mira stepped forward, touched the door.

A pulse of light rippled through the room—and the seal clicked open.

Inside?

A vault.

Dark. Cold. Ancient.

In the center stood a cracked mirror, shattered except one jagged shard missing from the top.

Lucien stared at it. Her reflection didn't move.

"This ain't a vault," she said quietly. "It's a grave."

The chamber was colder now. Quiet. But not the peaceful kind—the heavy kind, like something ancient was holding its breath.

They wandered for hours, tracing carvings and whispering half-baked theories. Still, no clue.

At the center stood the statue—Lady Justice. Sword raised. Blindfold intact. Silent. Watching.

Krane and Elias exchanged a look.

"Maybe… maybe this place needs a sacrifice," Elias muttered, not quite joking.

Dave backed up quick. "You bring a rabbit or something? What about Jonas?"

Jonas threw up his hands. "Y'all stay sacrificing. I'm allergic to death."

Mira crossed her arms. "Guys—seriously? Not everything needs blood. Maybe we just have to prove we're worth it."

But the silence stretched. The kind that made you feel small.

Late now. Bone-deep tired, they laid down, reluctant. Krane took first watch, as always.

Hours passed.

Then the moon shifted.

A single beam slipped through the cracked dome above—landing on the statue's sword.

It shimmered.

Not silver. Not gold.

Just… light. Like truth. Like judgment.

Krane stirred first. "Get up."

They jumped awake.

The sword glowed—soft at first. Then sharp. Searing.

And beneath it, now visible on the base of the statue:

Balance.

Lucien stepped closer. Her hand hovered above the word.

Elias whispered, "That's what this trial is. It's not about power. Not sacrifice. It's balance."

"Between what?" Dave asked.

"Between who we are… and what we carry," Krane answered. "This place—it's testing if we can hold ourselves together."

Jonas, for once serious, stepped back. "And if we can't?"

The air groaned. A crack split the wall behind them.

Lucien stared at the sword, then at her own hands.

"Then the room decides."

The silence that followed wasn't empty.

It was a warning.

Balance was watching.