The old paper shook in Elias's hands as if the map itself fought being read. Its edges were worn, thin from hundreds of years, but the ink still shone weakly with threads of silver. Every line on it twisted like blood lines under skin, beating with a rhythm he could almost feel.
"This isn't a normal map," Elias said low.
Kael leaned over his shoulder, his two different eyes squinting. "No. It's alive."
The words were true. The map changed under their look, rivers bending, mountains sinking, whole towns showing and vanishing as if the land itself was unsure. It was not a picture of the world as it is—but as it had been, and might still be.
Lyra reached out, her fingers above the shining paper. "It shows what could be… roads not walked, futures hidden. But why give it to us?"
Kael's face turned hard. "Because someone wants us to follow it."
The three sat in the small room of the empty holy place, its stone walls marked with pictures half-gone by time. Old images of stars, circles, and odd shapes covered the ceiling, as if the holy men had tried to catch secrets they did not fully know.
Outside, the wind cried, pulling dust and soft voices through the broken stone arches. Elias felt a weight pushing on him, the same weight he felt since touching the map. It was not just a tool—it was an order.
"The map doesn't lead to one place," Lyra said after a long quiet. Her sharp eyes followed the changing lines. "It leads to many. But each road… takes something."
Elias swallowed hard. He already knew what she meant. He could feel it in how the paper pulled at him, wanting choices, giving up things. One road burned with light, another with dark, another with fire.
"Where's the first stop?" Elias asked.
Kael pointed. His finger stayed over a place that shone brighter than the others: a valley eaten by endless night. "The Hollow of Echoes," he said darkly. "A place where time itself breaks. I've heard of it."
Elias frowned. "Sounds like a trick."
"All good places to find are tricks," Kael said flatly.
The candles flickered. For a moment, Elias thought it was the wind. But then he saw the shadows grow too long, crawling across the walls, gathering toward the map.
"They've found us," Lyra whispered, pulling her knife free.
Dark shapes leaked from the cracks in the stone—dark ghosts made of smoke and old thoughts. They didn't walk but floated, their faces unclear as if rubbed away. The air grew heavy with quiet.
Elias pushed the map into his coat. The moment it left the open air, the ghosts hissed and rushed forward, drawn to him like hunters to blood.
"Go!" Kael yelled.
The three broke through the holy place doors into the storm outside. The wind hit their faces, carrying dust and ash. Behind them, the ghosts poured out like a wave of darkness.
Elias ran harder, holding the map to his chest. He felt it beat against him, its shine burning hotter, almost as if it wanted him to fall into their hold.
"We can't run from them for good!" Lyra shouted.
Kael's eyes burned in the storm light. "We don't need to. Just long enough to reach the Hollow."
Elias's heart dropped. That bad place on the map wasn't just their goal anymore—it was their only hope to stay alive.