The girl's name was Lira.
She didn't say it right away. At first, she just stared—silent, unblinking, trembling like a leaf barely hanging on to the last branch of a dying tree. Her lips were dry, her skin cold, and every flinch told me more than her words ever could.
But eventually, when the silence between us stretched too long, she whispered it.
"…Lira."
It was a fragile name. Like if spoken too loud, it might break.
We were nestled in the ruined basin of the ravine, behind the shattered stone altar where I'd found her. The remnants of the spiral-bound cultists had vanished into dust, the spiral glyphs having burned out with them. The only light came from a single broken lantern I'd salvaged—its crystal core still glowing faintly blue.
She sat close to the fire I'd built, wrapped in a patchwork cloak made from torn robes, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her eyes never left the flames.
I watched the forest edge, ears open to every branch creak and leaf rustle.
"Are there more of them?" she finally asked, voice barely audible.
"There always are," I said. "But we killed enough to buy a quiet night."
She nodded faintly, not reassured, but… accepting. Like she'd learned long ago that peace was only ever temporary.
Later, we left the ravine under cover of dusk. I carried her for part of the way—her legs too weak, too bloodied from thorns and days of captivity. She didn't protest.
The trees around us leaned in close, but the air was clearer now. Less thick. Less cursed.
Still, I could feel something watching us.
Something far away—but not distant.
We found refuge inside the ruins of an ancient outpost, long collapsed, now half-consumed by moss and root. A single intact chamber still stood—a circle of stone with part of its roof intact, offering some shelter from the coming night.
There, I laid her down and kept watch.
While she slept, I summoned the system.
"System. Display updates."
[Status Update – Passive Skill Sync Complete]• Soul Echo has adapted from combat data.• Spiral Pulse has reached Lv. 2 (Rank C)• Fragment Memory has absorbed corrupted glyphs: Minor memory resonance forming.
Mental Note: User brain activity increasing around "Singularity Concept." Potential resonance with unknown entity: Lira.
'Singularity… again.'
Everything was pointing to her.
I looked over. She was still asleep, curled into the cloak like a child lost in winter.
But her sleep wasn't peaceful.
Her hands twitched. Her lips moved, whispering words that didn't belong to this place.
"Your name… is Isaac."
I jolted.
She was awake—but not fully. Her eyes were open, but unfocused. Pupils dilated.
"Do you see it?" she whispered. "The moon that spins but never moves?"
I knelt beside her. "Lira… are you dreaming?"
Her hands clutched at the cloak. "The spiral never ends. They said I was chosen. I was a gate…"
She blinked—snapping back into herself—and gasped as if surfacing from water.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "That wasn't me. Not fully."
"Then who was it?"
She stared at me, haunted. "I don't know. But they're waking up."
That night, I couldn't sleep either.
I stood just outside the ruin and looked up.
There it was.
The Spiral Moon.
Massive. Unmoving. It didn't rise or set—it simply stared, as if the world had been hung beneath it like an ornament.
And then the system spoke.
[System Notice – Hidden Objective Triggered]"Those who rescue the Singularity awaken the Eye That Watches."New Subquest: Trail of the Spiral WatchersObjective: Protect Lira. Discover the origin of the Spiral-Bound. Uncover the truth of the Singularity.
It wasn't just a quest.
It was a warning.
A covenant.
And in the far trees, behind a veil of leaves, something shifted.
A figure. Tall. Bent. Its body wrapped in root and spiral-threaded cloth. It didn't approach. It didn't move.
But I felt it.
It remembered me.
And it was waiting.