Over the next few days, the letters arrived in droves. Some were handwritten, the ink smudged as though scrawled in haste; others were carefully typed, their language clipped and professional. But they all carried the same chilling message: Stop. Walk away. Destroy everything.
Elias sifted through them one by one, his frustration mounting with each new warning. The names on the letters were familiar—colleagues, mentors, even rivals he hadn't spoken to in years. Dr. Richard Horner, who had once praised Elias for his daring fieldwork, now warned him to abandon the project outright. Professor Lydia Karn, a notoriously skeptical historian, wrote with an uncharacteristic urgency, begging him to reconsider.
Elias held one letter in his hands, the paper trembling slightly. The handwriting was shaky, the words barely legible.
I know you won't listen, but you have to stop. The tomb, the scrolls, Malakarath—none of it is worth what's coming. I lost my entire team to this same line of research. The whispers start small, but they don't stop. They don't let go.
Burn the scrolls. Seal the tomb. Leave it buried.
- Dr. Elaine Foster
Elias stared at the letter, his pulse quickening. He knew Dr. Foster's name well; she was a respected archaeologist who had vanished from the public eye nearly a decade ago. Rumors swirled that she had retired early after a catastrophic excavation, but she had never spoken publicly about the details.
"What do they say?" Marie's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. She sat across the table, her laptop open but forgotten as she watched him with growing concern.
"They're all warnings," Elias said, his voice tight. "Every single one. They're telling us to stop, to destroy our research. They're scared."
Marie leaned forward, her brows furrowed. "Do they say why?"
Elias handed her the letter, watching as her eyes scanned the shaky handwriting. Her expression darkened as she reached the end. "If this is true… if Dr. Foster lost her team because of Malakarath, we need to take this seriously."
Jonas, standing near the window, turned to face them. "I've been saying that for weeks. We've already seen what this thing can do. Garrow's gone, Elias. He's gone because of this. And you think we're going to be the exception?"
Elias's frustration boiled over. He slammed his hand on the table, the letters scattering. "We are the exception! They didn't know what they were dealing with. They didn't have the tools or knowledge we do. We're closer than anyone's ever been to understanding Malakarath. If we stop now, it'll all be for nothing."
Jonas crossed his arms, his voice cold. "Or maybe stopping now is the only way to survive."
As the team argued over their next steps that evening, a sharp knock on the study room door silenced them. Marie opened it to reveal a tall, weathered man in a dusty field jacket, his face lined with age and experience. His sharp blue eyes scanned the room, lingering on Elias.
"Dr. Elias Vayne?" he asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
Elias stood, his defenses immediately rising. "That's me. Who are you?"
"Dr. Henry Wakefield," the man replied, extending a hand. "I'm an archaeologist—well, I was. I've been following your work."
Elias shook his hand cautiously. "And what brings you here, Dr. Wakefield?"
Wakefield's gaze hardened. "A warning. About Malakarath."
The name hung like a curse, and the room grew tense. Wakefield pulled a battered leather journal from his coat and set it on the table. "I was part of an expedition twenty years ago. We were chasing the same leads you are—ancient texts, forgotten rituals, whispers of a Sleeper buried beneath the earth. We thought we'd found something incredible. And we did."
Elias leaned forward, his curiosity piqued despite himself. "What happened?"
Wakefield's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with memory. "The whispers started small, just like you said. Shadows in the corners of our vision. Dreams we couldn't explain. But it got worse. The further we went, the more it… spread. Our lead researcher lost his mind. Another disappeared entirely, right out of camp, and we never found him. The rest of us barely made it out alive. I tried to warn others, but no one listened. And now you're here, making the same mistakes."
Marie's face was pale as she listened, and even Jonas looked shaken. But Elias's expression remained defiant. "You're saying we should stop? Just walk away? Let all of this—everything we've uncovered—go to waste?"
Wakefield's gaze bore into him. "Yes. If you care about your team, about yourself, you'll stop now. Destroy your notes, burn your translations, and seal that tomb for good. Malakarath isn't something you can study, Vayne. It's a force. A hunger. And it won't stop until it takes everything from you."
After Wakefield left, the team sat in uneasy silence, the weight of his warning pressing down on them. Jonas was the first to speak, his voice low but firm. "He's right. We need to stop."
Elias shook his head, his frustration boiling over. "You don't understand. Malakarath isn't just some ancient artifact. It's a key—an answer to questions we've been asking for centuries. If we can figure out what it is, what it wants, we can control it."
Jonas slammed his fist on the table, standing abruptly. "Control it? Are you hearing yourself? It's controlling you, Elias. You're so obsessed with finding answers that you're ignoring what's right in front of you. This thing is dangerous, and it's already tearing us apart."
Marie watched them both, her face etched with worry. "Elias, Jonas is right about one thing. We can't ignore the warnings. Suppose other teams have suffered because of Malakarath. In that case, we need to consider the possibility that we're heading down the same path."
Elias's voice softened, but the resolve in his eyes didn't waver. "I know it's dangerous. I'm not blind to the risks. But if we stop now, we'll never know the truth. And if we don't figure this out, someone else will—someone like Garrow, who won't care about the consequences."
Jonas shook his head, his expression a mix of anger and disbelief. "And what happens when it's too late? When you've gone so far that you can't come back?"
Elias didn't answer. He couldn't. Because deep down, he knew Jonas's fears weren't unfounded. But the pull of Malakarath was too strong, and its promises were too enticing to ignore.
Later that night, Elias returned to the pile of letters on the table as the team dispersed. One envelope, addressed in a hand he didn't recognize, caught his eye. He opened it hesitantly, unfolding the single sheet of paper inside.
Dr. Vayne,
You cannot fight Malakarath. You cannot control it. It is not a god. It is not a relic. It is the end. Every step you take brings you closer to it, and it will not let you go. If you value your life, stop now. If you value your soul, destroy everything.
- Anonymous
Elias stared at the letter, his chest tightening. The warnings were clear. The danger was real. But even as fear gripped him, another emotion rose to the surface—determination.
He folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket, his mind racing. They were closer than anyone had ever been to understanding Malakarath. And no matter the cost, he wasn't going to stop now.
The Sleeper was waiting. And Elias was ready to face it.