The next morning, the air is cool and sharp, the lingering dampness of the past days fading under the rising sun.
We set out early, making our way back to the Ancient Relic Site, where the inscriptions still wait—silent, unchanging, and full of questions.
Edan leads the way, but this time, his usual confidence is tempered.
There is hesitation in his movements.
Uncertainty in his expressions.
It is clear he has spent the night rethinking everything.
——
By the time we arrive, the ruins feel different.
Not physically—the stone is still cracked, the carvings still weathered, the broken columns still casting jagged shadows under the morning light.
But there is something else now.
Something unspoken.
Edan walks ahead, stopping near the engraved staircase, his arms crossed, eyes scanning the inscriptions as if he is looking for something he missed.
For a long moment, he does not speak.
Then—
"I was too hasty yesterday."
Elias, who had been absentmindedly tapping his polearm against the ground, tilts his head. "Oh?"
Edan exhales. "I jumped to conclusions about the Black Spirits."
I step forward. "You're reconsidering your theory?"
Edan nods. "Not abandoning it. But… questioning it."
He gestures toward the chaotic inscriptions, the ones we had read the day before.
"These words—a soul unseen, a lonely spirit, consuming to be whole—I assumed they described the Black Spirits because they fit the existing records we have of them. But the more I think about it, the more I realise…"
He hesitates.
Elias raises an eyebrow. "Realize what?"
Edan frowns slightly, choosing his words carefully.
"That I might be asking the wrong question."
He turns toward us, his expression unreadable.
"The problem isn't whether the Black Spirits were created or corrupted."
His gaze flickers back to the inscriptions.
"The problem is that we don't know if they were ever supposed to exist at all."
——
Silence.
I inhale slowly. "You mean…"
Edan nods. "Everything about them—how they appear, how they bond to hosts, how they affect the world—it's unlike anything else. Even the Ancients, who studied energy manipulation beyond anything we understand today, had no clear records of where they came from. Only warnings. Only destruction. Only hypotheses associated with him."
Elias crosses his arms, his smirk softer than usual. "So what are you saying? That they're some kind of… accident?"
Edan sighs. "Or something… misplaced."
I feel a chill. "Misplaced?"
Edan gestures vaguely. "Something that doesn't belong here. Something that was either brought here or that came through a crack in the world itself."
Elias's fingers twitch slightly, but his expression remains carefully neutral.
I, however, feel my stomach turn.
Because Edan is getting too close.
Too close to truths that should not be spoken aloud.
——
Edan shakes his head. "Regardless, I'm not certain anymore. The Black Spirits may not have been created by the Ancients, but they were definitely feared by them."
He moves toward another stone relief, one we had not examined closely before.
It is worn, the images faded by time, but the outline remains clear—
Figures standing in reverence before something towering and shadowed.
But unlike the other carvings, these figures are reaching out.
Not in worship.
In desperation.
Elias steps closer, his eyes narrowing. "Huh."
Edan watches him. "Something wrong?"
Elias shrugs, but I catch the way his grip tightens on his weapon.
"Just… interesting," he mutters.
I don't press.
Because I know what he is thinking.
And I don't want to say it either.
——
Edan exhales, as if physically shaking off his own thoughts.
"For now," he says, "I'll need more time to research. I'll compare these inscriptions to the ones found in Mediah and Valencia. Maybe they hold more answers."
I tilt my head. "You've studied ruins in Mediah?"
Edan nods. "Only briefly. The relic sites there are… difficult to access, given the current political state."
Elias hums. "Right. Because Calpheon and Mediah are at each other's throats."
Edan smirks. "That's putting it mildly. But yes. The balance of power is shifting. Calpheon's expanding trade routes into Serendia, while Mediah is growing increasingly wary of outsiders. And then there's Valencia, which—well, let's just say they don't appreciate archaeologists wandering around their holy sites."
I frown. "And yet you still go."
Edan grins. "Curiosity is a dangerous thing."
Elias chuckles. "Tell me about it."
——
We linger a little longer, discussing what little can be openly acknowledged.
But in the back of my mind, the questions remain.
And for the first time—
I wonder if we are supposed to find these answers at all.