The airplane hummed with the steady thrum of engines, its cabin cast in the faint blue glow of night lights. Most of the passengers dozed, necks bent against headrests, mouths slack in the half-silence that only long flights seemed to know.
Ry was wide awake, flipping through a glossy magazine he didn't care about. Rica rested on his shoulder, her breathing slow and even. Across the aisle, Amos and Liz played cards on the foldout tray, while Au leaned against Bob, earbuds in, mouthing the lyrics to some love song.
Marky sat by the window, his notebook balanced on his knee, scribbling fragmented thoughts. Beside him, Gems watched the clouds below, their silver tops lit by the moon. She looked distant, as though her mind was already far ahead of them, walking the stones of Rome.
It was peaceful — until Rica stirred.
Her hand twitched in Ry's. Her lips moved, whispering something too faint to hear. Then her body jerked, a strangled sound breaking from her throat.
Ry frowned, shaking her gently. "Hey. Rica. Wake up."
Her eyes snapped open, wide and wild. She sucked in a sharp breath as though surfacing from deep water.
"Rica?" Liz leaned across the aisle. "You okay?"
Rica pressed a hand to her chest, trembling. "I… I saw something."
"What kind of something?" Ry asked, trying to sound casual but failing.
She swallowed hard, her eyes darting around the dim cabin. "The road. I was standing on it. Long, endless stones under my feet. And…" Her voice dropped. "There were bodies. Everywhere. Hanging. Rotting. Watching me. And someone—" She faltered. "Someone whispered in my ear: Don't come."
The table of cards froze. Even Amos didn't joke.
Silence stretched until Ry finally forced a laugh. "Dreams. Just dreams, Rica. You've been hearing too many of RV's ghost stories."
But when Rica lay back down, clinging to his arm like a child, her eyes remained open long after the others drifted into uneasy sleep.
And Gems, who had not looked away the entire time, turned to the window again. The moonlight on the wing gleamed cold and sharp, like the edge of a blade.
---
The Arrival
Rome greeted them with the chaos of honking taxis, the scent of roasted coffee drifting from cafés, and the press of tourists spilling through the airport gates.
"Finally!" Amos stretched, his backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. "The land of pizza, history, and pasta that doesn't taste like cardboard."
"Land of your selfies, you mean," Au teased.
Liz herded them toward the arrivals exit, phone in hand. "Driver should be here in five minutes. Villa's thirty minutes away. Alessandro, our guide, will meet us tomorrow morning."
Rica still looked pale, though she tried to hide it under sunglasses. Ry carried her bag without comment, his usual swagger subdued.
Marky noticed Gems scanning every sign, every face, her brows furrowed in concentration. "You don't trust strangers easily, do you?" he asked softly as they waited.
"No," she admitted. "Especially not when the road is older than our whole country."
He smiled faintly. "That's why you'll keep us alive."
The driver arrived — a burly man with broken English but a kind smile. He loaded their luggage into a sleek black van, weaving them through the sprawling city.
From the windows, they glimpsed the ruins of aqueducts, ancient arches standing stubbornly amid modern streets, and wide boulevards lined with cypress trees.
Bob, usually quiet, murmured, "It feels… heavier here. Like the air carries history."
No one argued.
---
The Villa
The villa Liz booked sat just outside Rome, a stone structure wrapped in ivy, its windows framed with dark shutters. The courtyard was paved with cobblestones, and olive trees swayed in the evening breeze.
"Holy—" Amos whistled. "Liz, you outdid yourself."
"I told you," Liz said smugly. "If we're gonna dive into the past, we might as well have hot showers after."
Inside, the villa was even more impressive: terracotta floors, carved wooden beams, rooms with wrought-iron balconies overlooking vineyards stretching toward the horizon.
They claimed their rooms with laughter and mock arguments. Amos and Liz took one, Ry and Rica another, Au and Bob a third. Marky and Gems were left with separate single rooms across the hall.
As night fell, they gathered in the villa's dining room, feasting on takeout pizza and wine. The air was light again, filled with jokes and plans.
"Tomorrow," Ry declared, lifting his glass, "we walk where emperors once marched."
"Tomorrow," Amos echoed, grinning.
They toasted.
But when Gems excused herself early, retreating to her room, Marky lingered at the foot of the stairs, watching her disappear down the hall. Something in his chest tightened — admiration, worry, something nameless.
He turned back to the laughter of his friends, but part of him already felt distant.
---
The Second Dream
Night thickened. The villa fell silent, save for the chirp of crickets and the rustle of the wind.
Liz tossed in bed, her arm draped across Amos' chest. Her dreams began ordinary — flickers of laughter, the neon lights of the rooftop party, the clink of glasses.
Then the world shifted.
She was walking. The stones stretched endlessly, pale under a blood-red sky. The air reeked of decay. And ahead of her, figures stood — hundreds of them, lining the road in perfect rows.
Crucified.
Their hollow eyes fixed on her as their mouths opened in unison. A low, rasping chorus.
"Go back."
Her feet moved without her will, carrying her forward. As she passed, the crucified began to writhe, their skeletal hands reaching, nails scraping stone.
"Go back."
At the end of the road, a shadow rose — tall, indistinct, but with eyes that burned like embers. Its voice was not a whisper but a roar inside her skull.
"THE ROAD REMEMBERS."
Liz screamed and bolted upright, gasping. Amos stirred, blinking groggily.
"Babe? What happened?"
Her body trembled violently. She clutched at him, unable to speak.
"It was just a nightmare," he murmured, stroking her hair. "Just a dream."
But when she closed her eyes again, she still heard the chorus echoing in her skull.
And outside, in the courtyard of the villa, the olive branches rustled though there was no wind.