After the sunken plaza, the path narrowed.
The stone bridges were lower, the walkways thinner, forcing them into single file for long stretches. No one spoke much.
Irok led as usual. Sael kept a steady pace behind him. Keren drifted at the rear, occasionally whistling under his breath—but the sounds grew more infrequent.
V realized he had begun paying closer attention to their words.
Not the content—
But the way they placed time inside their sentences.
Irok had said they'd passed through that area "a few cycles ago."
Sael had called it "one of the old stopping points."
Individually, the phrasing made sense.
Placed side by side, it didn't.
"How long have you been together?" V asked as they stepped over a section of worn stone engraved with patterns nearly erased by countless footsteps.
Irok answered without hesitation.
"A long time."
Sael followed immediately.
"Long enough."
Keren laughed softly.
"Long or enough—it doesn't matter anymore."
They paused at a slightly wider platform along the stone bridge—just an opening large enough for four people to stand without brushing shoulders. The light here felt thinner, stretched.
That was when V noticed the fourth person.
Not newly arrived.
Perhaps he had joined them after the sunken plaza—a young man, slightly younger than V, shorter, narrow-shouldered, eyes darting quickly. He didn't speak much, just nodded when necessary, stepping carefully as though afraid of breaking an unspoken rule.
V couldn't remember when he had joined them.
That realization sent a cold sensation down his spine.
"Who is he…?" V asked quietly, leaning toward Keren.
Keren glanced over, squinting slightly as if rummaging through his memory.
"Huh? Oh. He's been with us from before."
"Before when?"
Keren shrugged.
"Before you arrived."
Irok and Sael neither confirmed nor denied it.
The newcomer—if he could still be called that—suddenly stopped, bracing a hand against a nearby stone pillar. His breathing grew deep. Ragged.
"I… I'm tired," he said hoarsely.
No one reacted immediately.
V looked to Irok.
"Should we rest?"
Irok studied the young man for a beat, then shook his head.
"We shouldn't stop here."
"Just a moment," the young man said. "I only need—"
He didn't finish.
He didn't faint. Didn't collapse.
He simply… slowed.
His movements stretched unnaturally, like a frame-skipped recording. His hand clung to the pillar, then slipped down gently. His head tilted to one side, eyes still open—but no longer synchronized with the space around him.
V stepped forward instinctively—
Sael raised a hand to block him.
"Don't," he said.
The young man sank down. Then lay on his side.
No sound. No sign of pain.
Just a body that no longer required itself to stand.
No one asked his name.
No one called out to him.
Irok turned and continued walking.
Sael followed without looking back.
Keren lingered for a second, staring at the faint shadow of the body against the stone—then shrugged and moved on.
"We're… leaving him?" V asked.
Irok didn't turn.
"He stopped."
They continued.
After several more stone arches, V glanced back quickly.
There was nothing there.
Only light and water stretched evenly across the distance.
"Do you remember his name?" V asked.
Keren gave a thin smile.
"No need."
Irok spoke softly after that.
"Better not to."
Sael remained silent.
Irok later said they had passed through this region "for the third time."
Sael remarked they "hadn't reached that count yet."
Keren called those markers "old stories."
No one was clearly lying.
But no one shared the same timeline.
And then V understood.
Time here wasn't shared.
Each person carried a moving version of it alone. When they formed a group, those versions overlapped—just enough to keep walking together.
The path shifted abruptly.
There was no clear transition—no special archway, no narrow crevice like before. Just a gentle curve in the walkway, and then the space ahead opened in a completely different way.
V stopped on reflex.
The stone beneath his feet was no longer a single surface.
It was divided into concentric rings descending toward a center. Each ring varied in height, uneven, as if constructed in phases—adjusted slightly each time. The surface of every ring was carved with dense spiraling symbols—not decorative patterns, but rhythmic repetitions, like an ancient language.
He stood at the outermost ring.
From here, the entire space resembled a colossal stone bowl—though imperfectly symmetrical. Portions of the rings were damaged, as though broken and later patched by some… method.
There was nothing at the center.
Only stone.
Bare, pitch-black stone, as if it had absorbed too much of something that didn't belong to light.
His thoughts began to slow.
Questions arrived later than usual. His familiar analytical reflex felt stretched, as if someone had turned down an invisible dial.
Irok stepped down onto the second ring.
Sael followed without looking around.
Keren lingered beside V, gazing toward the center. His thin smile was gone.
"Don't stand outside too long," he said.
They descended ring by ring.
With each step downward, the heaviness increased—so subtly it was nearly imperceptible. Yet when V looked inward, he felt his sharpness dulling.
The symbols underfoot began to distract him. Their repetition pulled at his mind, inducing a near-hypnotic rhythm.
He forced himself to count.
Twelve steps to the next ring.
Eleven.
Ten.
When he looked toward a ring closer to the center, something made his spine go cold.
There were indentations.
Not structural damage. Not natural erosion.
Impressions.
The marks of bodies that had once lain there.
It was unclear whether one or many had overlapped over time. But the shape was too suggestive to mistake for architectural purpose.
He didn't speak.
But from that moment, his internal hypothesis became clear.
This wasn't a place to pass through.
This was a place to end.
"Do you come here often?" he asked, keeping his voice as even as possible.
Irok answered.
"Not often."
"So you do come."
"Yes," Sael said. "When necessary."
The reply carried no emotion.
No avoidance.
Keren slowed his pace, walking beside V as they descended to the sixth ring.
"You feel it, right?" he asked.
"The weight."
"Yes," V replied. "A little."
Keren nodded.
"That's good."
It wasn't praise.
V looked around.
There were no wanderers here. No nearly-depleted figures. The space felt isolated from the rest of the island—a depression kept separate, untouched by aimless drifting.
He noticed there was no clear exit from the center.
All rings curved inward.
No outward opening.
Only the lowest point.
"We're going further down?" V asked.
Sael nodded.
Irok stopped at the second-to-last ring.
"This is far enough," he said.
The center was only a few steps away.
V halted.
Not out of fear.
But because everything in his mind was screaming the same conclusion.
This place was designed so no one could leave.
No walls. No doors. No visible traps.
Just an environment that slowed will and thought just enough to ensure… there was nothing else left to do.
He inhaled deeply.
The air entered his lungs slower than usual.
Left slower too.
"Let me ask one thing," he said.
All three looked at him.
"The ones before me," he continued, "how did they get here?"
Keren let out a quiet laugh.
"Same way you did."
"And what did they think when they arrived?"
Sael answered.
"Not much."
V nodded.
"Then I'm right."
Irok tilted his head slightly.
"Right about what?"
V looked directly at the center of the rings.
"This is where you kill them."
No one objected.
No one denied it.
The silence confirmed more than any words could.
Keren exhaled slowly.
"You're blunt."
V felt it clearly: if he stepped down two more rings, he might not be able to say anything at all.
Not because they would attack immediately.
But because this place would soften the conscious part of him just enough for them to finish the rest.
"You're intelligent," Irok said. "That's why you made it this far."
"And that's why I shouldn't go any further," V replied.
Sael studied him for a long moment.
"You think you have a choice?" he asked.
V clenched his fists.
"Yes," he said.
"I do."