The descent from the chamber was quieter than usual. No one cracked a joke, no one filled the silence. The memory of Arion's message weighed heavily on them all.
Alex could still feel the crystal embedded in his palm—no pain, only pressure. Like it was waiting for something. Maybe a choice. Maybe a sacrifice.
He hated how used to this feeling he was becoming.
Nyssa walked beside him, eyes focused forward but occasionally flicking toward him. She'd been unusually quiet since the projection. He wondered what she was thinking—what it meant for her to follow a man who might become the trigger for the Horror's awakening.
"We need rest," Veridia said, breaking the silence. "There's a safe outpost nearby. Hidden… but not completely untouched."
"Let's go," Alex nodded.
They reached it before nightfall—a small, circular stone structure hidden beneath hanging vines and overgrown earth. It looked like a collapsed ruin, but as Veridia pressed a hidden rune into the mossy wall, the ground gave way, revealing a staircase descending into a concealed haven.
Once inside, they gathered in the central chamber. Lanterns flickered to life with soft green light. The air was warmer here, calmer. But the sense of tension remained.
"Why didn't we know any of this?" Soren muttered, pacing. "The Nameless Horror. The real reason behind the S-Wall. Even Twilight's deepest records didn't mention it."
"Because someone erased it," Nyssa said flatly. "This kind of truth isn't buried by time—it's buried by intention."
Alex sat down, running his fingers over his wrist where the sigils now glowed faintly. "We've been playing in their shadows. Following crumbs they left behind. All this time, we thought freeing humanity was the final goal."
Soren turned. "And now?"
Alex met his gaze. "Now I'm not sure if freedom means anything… if it comes at the cost of awakening that thing."
Veridia knelt beside the fire pit, lighting it with a rune. "What if the only way to stop it… is to use the power sealed in Zeta?"
"Then we need to understand it first," Alex said. "We can't just rush in blind."
A beat of silence passed.
Then Nyssa rose and approached him.
"You're afraid."
Alex looked up at her, surprised by the bluntness in her voice.
"You should be," she continued. "But don't let it chain you. You've come too far to let doubt be louder than purpose."
Alex looked into her eyes. There was no malice there, just fire. The kind that burned cold and steady.
"I'm not chained," he said. "I just… don't want to become what I'm fighting."
Her voice softened. "Then don't. Choose better."
They stared at each other for a moment longer. No more words needed.
Later that night, while the others rested, Alex sat alone near the edge of the outpost's balcony, looking out into the blackness of Zeta's endless terrain. The stars above were clearer here—sharp and silver.
He whispered to the void.
"Father… if this is the path you walked, how did you carry it alone?"
There was no answer. Just the wind, and the ever-present hum of something ancient stirring far beneath the continent.
But Alex knew.
This burden was no longer just his to carry.
It belonged to all of them.
And the weight of it would shape the world.