My heart pounded, and before I even realized what I was doing, I was up on my feet. I moved slowly, careful not to wake him. My eyes flicked over to his bag, the one he never let out of his sight. That unease gnawed at me, a sharp, insistent whisper that something was hidden, something I needed to know.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m overreacting.

But I couldn’t shake the memory of his voice, the way it sounded when he called out to some unknown god in his sleep. My fingers tingled with the cold as I crouched next to his pack.

I hesitated, glancing back at Maris. His face was peaceful now, his breathing slow and steady, as if the man I’d just heard begging for help had never existed. I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. This was wrong, all of it. I shouldn’t be doing this. But then, if he was involved in something dangerous... What if I’m next?

I couldn’t leave it alone. I had to explore his pack.

My hands moved on their own, opening the pack. The leather creaked softly in the stillness, but Maris didn’t stir. Inside, under a bundle of clothes, I found it. A stone. Cold, dark, and etched with strange, jagged runes. As soon as my fingers brushed its surface, a jolt of cold shot through me, like ice had sunk into my veins. I recoiled, heart racing, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. The thing seemed to pulse, almost breathing in my hand, and the runes glowed faintly, as though feeding off the firelight.

I shuddered, holding the stone between my fingers. There was something wrong with it—something that felt ancient, malevolent, as though the stone itself was watching me.

[The Stone of Separation. Unknown usage.]

Crystal’s voice startled me, a sudden, sharp whisper cutting through the silence of the night. I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. In a panicked reflex, I shoved the stone back into Maris’ pack, my fingers trembling. The cold from the stone seemed to linger, sinking into my skin like frostbite.

I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to calm the rush of fear that clawed at my chest. What the hell was that thing? Some kind of... relic? A weapon? Something darker? My thoughts swirled in a frantic loop, and Crystal’s words echoed in my mind.

The God of Stone. That’s what Maris had said. The words rattled around in my skull, taking on a weight they hadn’t had before. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just some harmless trinket. This stone—it was connected to whatever he was praying to, whatever twisted ritual he was part of. My pulse quickened again as the gravity of it all settled over me.

I hesitated, then reached back into his pack, my hands moving on instinct. There had to be something else, some clue to explain all this. My fingers brushed against rough leather, old and cracked. I pulled out a small, weathered diary, its cover peeling at the edges. It looked ancient, too old to be worth much.

But when I opened it, the pages surprised me. Inside, written in tight, neat handwriting, was the story of a doomed voyage involving someone I did not expect.

Journal log 001:

The new Atlantean expedition has set sail for the island of Chanchyrdia. Captain Maris thinks this will be a quick in-and-out adventure—grab the treasure, grab the money, and all of us leaving as rich men. Spirits are high. We’re all dreaming of the riches we’ll bring home. To celebrate the sighting of land in the distance, the captain released the alcohol stores and declared a feast. We ate like kings tonight, boys—roasted meat, bread as thick as our fists, and enough ale to drown a horse. There’s talk of Chanchyrdia’s legendary treasures. Golden idols, jewels plucked from the crowns of long-dead kings... Helena, we’ll be rich beyond our wildest dreams.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

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Journal log 002:

Forgive me, Helena. Its a nightmare. We prematurely celebrated. The island brought nothing but pain and suffering. The air was thick with fog when we landed, a heavy mist that clung to our skin and stung our eyes. First Mate Gregorio was the first to fall. He only drank from a stream, and within minutes he was convulsing on the ground, foam at his mouth. The captain ordered the crew to stay away from the water, but it was too late. Gregorio was gone.

The island is cursed. I feel it in my bones. Captain Maris came back from his exploration of the northern ruins with something in his eyes. A change. He doesn’t speak as he used to. There’s no mirth, no laughter. It’s as if the island has stolen his soul. He clutches a strange stone now, always muttering to himself. We don’t ask him what it is. We’re too afraid of the answer.

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Journal log 003:

The crew is uneasy. Strange things happen in the night. We hear whispers carried on the wind, voices calling our names from the shadows. No one sleeps soundly. I dreamt of the stone last night, the one the captain found. It was glowing in my mind, as if it wanted me to understand something, to obey something. I woke up in a cold sweat. Others say they’ve had the same dream.

Maris spends hours staring at the stone. He barely eats. I think the captain is losing his mind, but what can we do? We’re stuck here. The ship can’t leave until we find the treasure, and no one’s willing to leave empty-handed. Not yet.

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Journal log 004:

Another one dead. This time, it was Brenn. He fell into a pit of spikes while exploring the western ruins. We found him impaled, his body drained of blood. The crew is starting to whisper about curses and ancient gods. They say the island demands a sacrifice.

Captain Maris doesn’t care. He’s obsessed now, possessed by whatever lies beneath the surface. He keeps saying we’re close, that we’re on the edge of greatness, but every step we take feels like a step closer to the grave. The stone... It feels like it’s watching us.

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Journal log 005:

The nights are unbearable now. We no longer speak to each other. No more jokes or songs. Even the sound of the wind feels sinister. Maris has changed. He’s not the man he was when we left port. He mutters constantly, his eyes hollow, his hands never leaving that cursed stone. I’ve seen him down by the cliffs, whispering to it like it’s alive.

Some of the crew wants to leave, but Maris refuses. He says the treasure is near, that we must complete the ritual. What ritual? He won’t say. But he’s convinced that the stone holds the key to everything.

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Journal log 006: Unfortunately the journal entries started getting messed up around here. Words scratched out, and other… things… done to damage the text.

The treasure was never real. That much is clear now. Maris… knew … island demanded. The Stone … meant to be found…

Last night, I saw him standing at the edge of the cliff, holding the stone above his head. He was chanting something in a language I didn’t understand, his voice rising with each word. And then... the ground shook. The island trembled beneath our feet…

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Journal log 007:

Maris and I are the only ones left now…. I hear their voices at night, calling to me, begging me to join them… I ran… Noises… screaming at night… I know aren’t real…

I saw Maris again today, but he wasn’t the man I once knew. His eyes were hollow, black as the abyss, and his skin was pale, like he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. He told me it was time. That the gods demanded one final sacrifice…

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Journal log 010 (Final Entry):

I’ve made a terrible mistake. We all have. The island… It’s a … ancient, something… disturbed. Maris has … serving the gods, but I think the truth is far worse.

I’ve barricaded myself in the captain’s quarters, but I can hear them outside. They’re coming for me. … what they’ve become, but they aren’t human anymore…

If anyone finds this, please—don’t follow us. Don’t come looking for the treasure. There is no treasure. There’s only death. Oh Helena, Im sorry. Seven weeks. Thats how long its been since I’ve seen you.

The Last words of Thomas Terrenfel