And I entered.Like someone pushing a door without knowing if there's ground on the other side.Because obviously, when life throws you a cursed pyramid that smells like "you'll regret this," the logical response is:"Well, I wasn't planning to die today... but I'm flexible."
The darkness wasn't just dark.It was dense. Tactile.Like stepping into the mouth of a sleeping god who snores out of spite.Every step echoed so loud, I began to suspect it wasn't just my echo.Or not my steps.Or that there wasn't "nobody."Or worse—something was repeating my steps... but with less patience.
The corridor went down.Of course it did.Happy places don't have staircases that creak like someone crushed bones to build them.
The walls were covered in symbols.Not Egyptian.Not alien.Symbols with the vibe of an ex who still hates you.They moved when you didn't look.You blinked, and they changed shape like a demonic game of Tetris with your neurons.And in the middle of all that haunted abstract art...A room.
Total silence.But not the comforting kind.The kind that whispers:"Sure you wanted to come this far, champ?"
The room was square, like a cell you haven't realized is yours yet.At the far end, a low altar.On it, something covered by a dusty cloth.And if you've ever seen a horror movie, you already know:If it's covered... don't lift it.Naturally, I lifted it.
It wasn't a mummy.Or a glowing skull.Or a curse printed on papyrus.It was a book.Dry leather.Covered with... hair?Yes.Braided hair.Color: trauma.On the cover, burned into the surface:D.M."What does that stand for? Damnation Manifested? Deadly Memories? Demon's Memoirs?"I opened it.Because that's who I am.Rule 1 of the Cursed Artifacts Club: Don't touch it.Me: touches it and reads it with dramatic inner monologue.
The pages were an all-you-can-scream buffet of nightmares:
"The Eye was not created. It was left behind.""Sealed with shards stolen by accident.""Four returned. The others... hid from the universe."
Drawings of floating stones.Symbols identical to ones I saw on the back of a corpse that—well, that's another story in another saga.And at the end, in handwriting that screamed "mental breakdown with style":
"Touch one... the others will know where you are."
I laughed.Not because it was funny.But because that kind of sentence should come with trailer music and a countdown.
Then I saw it.On the back wall, hidden between the cracks, glowing with that vibe of "I'm important but you're not ready":A diamond.Not a gem.Not a pretty little stone.Something that breathed from within.Embedded like someone had shoved it in there with panic and urgency.It turned slightly.Inside, a floating symbol.And my body decided to touch it before my brain could scream "terrible idea."
I touched it.Because of course.Who needs therapy when you can have final-boss hallucinations with no tutorial?
The world opened up like a .zip file of trauma.And it played in 4K across my retinas.I saw fire.I saw statues screaming without mouths.I saw a dehydrated pharaoh crying with his eyes closed.I saw The Eye.Not a sculpture.Not a glyph.A real Eye.Giant.Staring.Hungry.
And then...It blinked.
I fell.Because of course I did.No one stands firm when architecture looks at you.The journal fell too.And from the diamond, letters floated up.Three, to be exact.R - E - N
"Ren... Renji?"It wasn't a voice.It was a certainty.Not a message.A cosmic spoiler.
The Eye was watching me from the wall.Like it had been waiting centuries for exactly this.Like now... it knew my name.
And then, a phrase appeared in my mind.Not written.Not spoken.Felt. Carved.
"One touched.One called.One opened."
And I said the only thing that made sense in that moment:"I'm so screwed, even the air is judging me."