Bhola and Khotal exchanged uneasy glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, in unspoken agreement, they began to follow her. And so, the group moved on into the night—Nox leading the way, unaware he was being tailed; Creda, driven by questions she couldn’t yet articulate; and Bhola and Khotal, their curiosity outweighing their trepidation.

It felt like the night itself was holding its breath, as though something monumental was about to unfold. Nox’s purposeful stride only deepened their suspicions.

When they arrived near the river, they saw Nox turn north, heading toward the docks. By this point, Bhola and Khotal had caught up with Creda. The three of them followed in silence.

As they reached the dock, Creda grabbed Bhola and Khotal by their arms and pulled them behind a bush. She gestured for them to stay quiet.

From their hiding spot, they watched as Nox prepared a small raft, boarding it before paddling toward the vast expanse of Lavalthon Lake.

"We can’t let him do this," Bhola whispered urgently. He tried to step forward, but Creda held him back.

"Are you crazy?" he hissed. "He’s going out there alone! What if something happens to him?"

"Not if we follow him," Creda replied.

"What?" Khotal asked, his voice tinged with nervous disbelief. "There? Again?"

"Yes." Creda’s tone was resolute. "I want to see what happened to my sister. Now, come on." She grabbed their wrists and tried to pull them out of the bush.

Both men resisted, digging their heels into the dirt.

"No! We’re not going back there!" Khotal whined. "It was tough enough coming back alive the first time. We’re not doing it again!"

Bhola bobbed his head in agreement. "That place is dangerous. You shouldn’t go either!"

Creda’s grip tightened as she continued pulling at them, her frustration mounting. "I thought you were worried about Nox going back there all alone. And now you’re too scared to help your own mate? Cowards!"

"No, we’re not cowards," Bhola snapped. "But we shouldn’t go back there. That place is haunted."

"Haunted?" Creda’s voice dripped with sarcasm. "All the more reason to accompany Nox, don’t you think?" She planted her feet firmly in the dirt, pulling at them with all her might. Her shoulders ached from the effort, but she refused to relent. "Besides, it’s not haunted. Heck, it’s not even close to haunted!"

Bhola scoffed. "Who told you that? The lake monster took Ayan and chewed half of Dias! We saw it with our own two eyes!"

Creda let go of their hands abruptly, sending both men stumbling backward onto the ground.

"I don’t care," she said coldly, crossing her arms, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "What I do know is that place isn’t haunted. Calla told me so, and Calla knows everything. She’s been around for longer than any of us."

Bhola and Khotal exchanged uneasy glances.

Creda smirked at their hesitation. "Fine," she said, spinning on her heel. "If you’re too scared to help, I’ll go by myself."

She strode toward the dock, her steps bold and defiant. But before boarding, she called back over her shoulder, "Oh, by the way—I don’t know how to steer or paddle a raft. If I end up dead by morning, just know it’s on you."

Bhola and Khotal cursed under their breaths, scrambling to their feet. "Damn it," Bhola muttered.

"Fine!" Khotal added grudgingly. "But if something happens to us, we’re blaming you!"

Creda smiled to herself, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes, though she didn’t turn back. Together, they boarded the raft, their reluctant alliance sealed as they pushed off into the dark, uncharted waters of Lavalthon Lake.

They stayed silent, paddling carefully, ensuring not to splash the water or make noise that might alert Nox. Creda had been adamant—Nox mustn’t know they were following him. She needed to see what he was doing without his knowledge. Bhola and Khotal reluctantly agreed, cursing their luck that had dragged them across these forbidden waters yet again in a single day.

Stolen story; please report.

By the time they reached the middle of the lake, Nox was already nearing the opposite shore. They watched as he landed, pulled his raft onto the bank, and disappeared inland.

"Faster," Creda urged in a hushed voice. Her urgency pushed Bhola and Khotal to paddle harder, their arms burning from the effort. She refused to lose him in an unfamiliar territory.

When they finally reached the shore, Bhola helped Creda onto the land before he and Khotal worked together to heave the raft out of the water. But Creda didn’t wait for them to finish. Without a word, she darted off into the woods, heading in the direction Nox had gone.

Bhola turned just in time to see her disappearing into the trees. "Hey!" He called, his forehead creased in annoyance. "What is this girl thinking, wandering in like she owns this forest?" he muttered under his breath.

Khotal groaned. "Let’s go before she gets herself killed." They abandoned the raft, half in water and half on land, and hurried after her.

After trekking through the dense forest for what felt like an eternity, they emerged into a clearing—and froze.

There, standing near the entrance of an ancient stone structure, was Nox. His attention was fixed on something inside, his face lit by an eerie yellow glow emanating from within the tomb.

Creda stopped at the edge of the clearing, her breath catching in her throat. She took in the scene, her wide eyes filled with disbelief. The hair on her arms stood on end.

"Is that…?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. She stepped forward, her eyes locked on the structure. "Is that the Traveler’s Tomb?"

Khotal furrowed his brow. "The what?"

"The Traveler’s Tomb," Creda repeated, her voice tinged with awe and hesitation, as if she didn't trust her own interpretation. "The one the great hero built before he left his homeland."

Bhola and Khotal exchanged skeptical glances, as though she had gone mad.

Creda rolled her eyes at their silent mockery. "It’s from Calla’s stories," she clarified. "She always said the great hero led his people to a new homeland near a massive lake—a safe haven, a paradise on earth. And then, before leaving to find a way to undo the curse, he built the Traveler’s Tomb on the opposite shore. The people prayed for his safe journey and believed he would one day return."

Bhola shook his head. "So? What does that have to do with this?"

Creda’s voice dropped as she pieced together the fragments in her mind. “Calla told me yesterday that this part of the land isn’t cursed or forbidden. That it was us who were cursed,” Creda muttered, earning confused glances from Bhola and Khotal.

“What if…” she hesitated, the thought catching in her throat. “What if it wasn’t just a story? What if it were our history?”

Her breath hitched, the pieces falling into place in her mind. Calla’s stories never ended—Calla always said, stories have an end, histories don’t. Creda’s eyes widened as realization gripped her.

What if it wasn't just a poetic notion of a passionate storyteller? What if Calla's stories never ended because Calla didn’t know the ending herself?

Creda stepped into the clearing, gesturing at the stone structure before her. “The great hero wasn’t some random legend from made-up stories. He must have been our ancestor. That ‘heavenly new homeland’ in the story—what if that was Tuscanvalle? And the opposite shore, where they built the Traveler’s Tomb… this place.”

Her voice quivered as she pointed to the structure, her breaths coming fast and shallow. “What if this is the Traveler’s Tomb from Calla’s stories?”

She stared at the stone building, her thoughts spiraling. “What if the curse was true?” she whispered. “If it was, then why did the great hero never return? Does that mean there’s no way to undo the curse?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. She clenched her fists. “And what if… what if the prophecy wasn’t just about Samora’s child?” Her voice trembled with realization. “What if the prophecy is directly connected to the curse itself?”

Her heart raced as she crept closer, urging Bhola and Khotal to follow. The men, though hesitant, trailed behind her, their unease growing with every step.

When they reached the entrance, Creda finally saw what had captivated Nox.

On the ground lay the unmistakable evidence of what had happened the previous night. The earth was disturbed, bloodstained. It was the exact spot where her sister had died. Creda’s chest tightened at the sight.

But it wasn’t the blood that sent a chill down her spine.

Just beyond the bloodied patch, sitting on the ground, was the ornate lantern Nox had mentioned earlier. It still glowed faintly, with thin tendrils of smoke curling around it. It looked unnatural, ominous.

Creda stepped closer, her breath hitching. Something about the lantern, about the smoke, felt deeply, terribly wrong.

She tilted her head, trying to understand what she was seeing. The ornate carvings on the lantern’s surface shimmered and warped. Its structure… it wasn’t burning from within as she’d initially thought.

It was melting.

The lantern’s intricate carvings and its very body seemed to dissolve, its edges blending into the shadows around it. It wasn’t fast—it was slow, deliberate, almost imperceptible. And then Creda realized it wasn’t melting at all.

It was disappearing.

The lantern dissolved into an eerie cloud of shadow, its essence blending with the darkness beneath it.

Creda’s breath caught in her throat as the realization struck her.

Magic!

Bhola and Khotal stood frozen behind her, their eyes wide with disbelief. Creda’s chest tightened as she stared at the lantern, its last traces fading into the ground. She understood now.

This meant everything Nox had said before was true. Every single word.

There was a stranger in this place. Someone who had brought this lantern. But why? What connection did they have to Samora? To the child?

Creda’s mind reeled as a horrifying possibility took shape.

What if, by forcing Samora to cross the lake—by driving her into this forbidden land—they had triggered the prophecy—the very manifestation of the ancient curse itself—instead of stopping it? What if in their attempt to prevent the birth of the monster child, they had set in motion the very chain of events that would make it come true?

Her chest tightened as the implications of that possibility struck her.

Creda realised now. They had unknowingly unleashed something far worse. Because the curse wasn’t just a story, and this wasn’t just a tomb.

It was the beginning of something far bigger than she’d ever imagined.