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They woke up one by one in places that were almost unchanged from the world they came from. Jonathan was at the New Innsmouth pier, Ayaka in the ruins of the Nagano temple, Soraya at the Erfoud oasis, Wulan at the Pageralas punden, Mirek in the seventh room of the castle, Thiago at the mouth of the Juruá cave. Their eyes opened. Their breaths were held.
In each person's hand was a small artifact they didn't recognize: a piece of purple glass, half an engraving of an eye, warm with the pulse of what seemed to still be alive. They stared at each other in a silent nod, knowing this wasn't just the remnants of a dream.
Beyond the horizon of each location, the sky revealed a new star: dim, purple, pulsating softly. This star was not on any map, and no telescope could pierce the fog surrounding it. Yet every night, it moved a little closer, as the pulse of the artifact sent vibrations into their hearts.
And in the darkness
At the bottom of the sea, something swayed its tentacles through a whirlpool that had long been calm.
At the top of a mountain, the crack of a whip echoed among the gusts of the cold wind.
In the desert, the sand whispered the name "Carcosa" to the night wind.
In the rice fields, shadows danced in the wet mud.
In the castle corridor, the sound of a piano note spun once more, though no one touched the keys.
Inside the cave, five eyes carved into the stone emitted a faint light, even though the walls had cracked and crumbled.
They gathered on a silent road, not knowing how they had arrived there, facing each other in a circle. In the center of the circle, the purple artifacts trembled, then rose up, merging into a single ball of light. One purple eye slowly opened its lid.
In a moment that felt eternal, the six of them felt a whisper in their heads a voice that belonged to no one:
"You think this is the end? This is just the beginning of the call. The Sixth Eye is now closed, but the Seventh Eye has awakened."
The purple eye blinked once, then exploded in a burst of light. They lost consciousness.
When morning came, no one found any trace of them. Only shattered artifacts on the ground pieces of purple glass reflecting the face of anyone who gazed at them, but always with one eye that was different: the eye that stared back.
In the dawn sky, the new star vanished without a trace. And in the heart of the world, a void pulsed softly waiting for the next whisper.
The End—or perhaps, just the beginning.
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