Chapter 12: Echoes of the Past
The creaking door swung open, revealing a dimly lit interior. Dust swirled in the air as if disturbed by their presence. Bucky, Richard, and Fernando hesitated at the threshold of the author’s house. A faint smell of aged wood and mildew wafted out, mixed with something else—something unplaceable but heavy.
“Feels like stepping into a horror movie,” Richard muttered, trying to lighten the mood. His attempt fell flat as even Fernando’s usual smirk didn’t surface.
From the shadows emerged an elderly woman, her eyes sharp despite her frail appearance. She wore a threadbare shawl, and her silver hair was tied into a tight bun. “You’ve come,” she said, her voice raspy but steady.
“Uh, hi,” Fernando greeted awkwardly. “We’re looking for the author, Martin. Is he... around?”
The old woman gestured toward a wall adorned with an aged photograph. In the frame was an older man with stern eyes, his name inscribed beneath: Martin,
Bucky felt a chill crawl up his spine. “He’s... been gone for years?”
“Indeed,” the woman replied, her gaze piercing. “But he left behind what you seek. Now, why are you here?”
Bucky glanced at Richard and Fernando before speaking. “We’re looking for one of his books. It talks about a Peruvian clan—a tribe connected to some... unusual practices.”
The woman squinted at him. “Follow me.”
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The Search for Answers
The wooden staircase groaned under their weight as the trio followed the woman to the second floor. The air grew colder, and the dim light cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper.
“What is it with these creepy houses?” Richard whispered to Fernando, who shrugged.
At the top of the stairs was a room lined with bookshelves, their contents coated in a thick layer of dust. Strange artifacts—carved masks, stone idols, and bones—were scattered among the books.
The woman stopped in front of the largest shelf. “This is where you’ll find what you’re looking for. But beware—the answers you seek may not be what you want.”
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Bucky and Fernando began combing through the shelves while Richard hovered near the door, his unease evident. “Let’s make this quick, okay?”
After several minutes, Fernando exclaimed, “Got it!” He held up a worn leather-bound book, its cover etched with strange symbols.
Bucky took the book, flipping through the fragile pages. “It’s all here,” he said, his voice trembling with both excitement and apprehension. “The clan, their rituals, their connection to a demon god... and a location.”
The woman spoke again, her tone cryptic. “You’ll find them deep in the jungle. But know this: those who seek them rarely return the same.”
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The Jungle Expedition
Hours later, they found themselves deep in the Peruvian jungle. The air was thick with humidity, and the sounds of nature enveloped them. The map from the book had led them to a small clearing where a group of tribal people stood watching their approach.
Bucky, Richard, and Fernando stopped, unsure how to proceed. The tribespeople, painted in vibrant patterns, whispered among themselves, their eyes wide with suspicion.
“They look... welcoming,” Richard said sarcastically, earning a glare from Bucky.
A tall man adorned with feathers and beads stepped forward. He held a staff and spoke in a language none of them understood. Fernando stepped in, attempting to translate with his limited knowledge of local dialects.
After a tense exchange, the man gestured for them to follow.
They were led to a central hut where the tribal leader, an older man with a weathered face, awaited them. Through Fernando’s translation, Bucky explained their purpose: they were searching for the clan described in the book.
The leader’s expression darkened. “You have come to the wrong tribe,” he said through Fernando.
“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, his heart sinking.
“This is not the clan you seek,” the leader continued. “But I know of the people you speak of. They lived once... far from here, in a forbidden land. They worshipped a dark force, and their rituals... they brought great suffering.”
“Where can we find them now?” Bucky pressed.
The leader hesitated, then leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Their land is cursed. No one who enters returns unchanged. If you value your lives, you will not go.”
Richard swallowed hard. “Yeah, that sounds like a solid nope to me.”
Bucky, however, felt a strange pull, as if unseen forces were guiding him. He nodded solemnly. “Thank you. But we have to go.”
The leader sighed. “Then may the spirits protect you.”
A Twist in the Tale
As they prepared to leave the village, Fernando turned to Bucky. “You’re sure about this? That leader didn’t exactly give us a glowing review of the place.”
“I have to know,” Bucky replied, his grip tightening on the book.
Just as they stepped out of the clearing, the leader called out one last warning: “Beware the black fog. It will mark your path, but it is not a friend.”
The words hung heavy in the air as they ventured deeper into the jungle, the shadows growing longer with every step.