The morning sun felt wrong.
It spilled across Rome's rooftops in golden warmth, but when it touched the group's skin, it burned cold, like light filtered through ice. They gathered in the hotel lobby with shadows under their eyes, each of them pretending not to see the exhaustion in the others' faces.
No one spoke of what had happened in the night.
No one mentioned Bob's voice at Gems' door. Or the dust that shaped itself into his silhouette on the wall. Or the footsteps that had marched past their rooms until dawn.
Instead, Ry slammed his suitcase shut, squared his shoulders, and announced, "We go to the road."
Rica flinched. "Ry—maybe we should go home. This isn't research anymore, it's…" She trailed off, hugging her arms to herself.
Ry kissed her forehead absently, already moving toward the door. "We came here for the Appian Way. If we leave without stepping foot on it, what was the point?"
Amos muttered agreement, his voice raw from lack of sleep. "Bob wouldn't want us to quit." His eyes flicked toward Anaya and hardened. "We finish what we started."
Anaya said nothing. She walked in silence, her dark braid brushing her back like a coiled snake.
Au glared openly at her, her grief still sharp and bleeding. "If anything happens again, it's on you."
Anaya didn't flinch. She only whispered, "The road does not forgive blame."
That was when Gems stepped forward, her voice steady though her hands trembled inside her jacket pockets. "We all agreed to this. If we're going back to that road, we do it together. No more turning on each other."
Marky's gaze lingered on her longer than necessary. Her quiet strength drew him in more each day, even as the curse eroded everyone else.
Nobody argued after that.
The van they rented took them as far as the outskirts, where the modern asphalt surrendered to weathered stone. The Appian Way stretched before them like a scar carved into the earth, ancient cobblestones cracked and uneven, yet unyielding after millennia.
It was beautiful.
And terrible.
Tall cypress trees lined either side, their trunks blackened by shadow even in morning light. Ruined tombs and monuments slumped among the fields, their Latin inscriptions faded but still whispering of names long erased from memory.
Rica shivered. "It feels… alive."
Liz raised her camera and snapped a picture. When she glanced at the screen, her hands froze.
The photo was darker than reality—clouds swirling overhead, shadows stretched impossibly long. She quickly shut it off and said nothing.
Ry, oblivious, walked ahead like a man entering a temple. His eyes devoured every stone, every ruin. "This is it," he breathed. "Two thousand years of footsteps. Generals, slaves, emperors… and us."
"Don't romanticize it," Au muttered, clutching her bag. "This road eats people."
By midday, the air had thickened. The usual hum of wind and insects seemed to die the further they went, leaving behind only silence… and whispers.
At first Gems thought it was the others murmuring behind her, but when she turned, their lips were still. The voices came from below, seeping through the cracks of the stone. Faint Latin phrases, like prayers or orders, spoken in tones too low to fully catch.
She pressed closer to Marky. "Do you hear that?"
He swallowed hard. "Yeah."
Amos barked a laugh, too loud, too sharp. "It's just air moving through the stones. Don't let it get to you."
But later, Gems saw him twitch at nothing, his ears straining like he was listening to someone who wasn't there.
The sun dipped lower. They had been walking for hours, and still the road seemed endless.
That was when Rica stumbled, clutching her arm.
"Rica?" Ry rushed to her.
She rolled up her sleeve. Purple bruises wrapped around her wrist—long, finger-shaped marks. Her breath hitched. "Something grabbed me."
"There's no one here!" Ry snapped, but his own voice wavered.
Gems bent down, her hands shaking as she touched Rica's arm gently. The marks were ice-cold.
Liz whispered, "It's starting again."
Then Amos bent over suddenly and gagged. Gravel spilled from his mouth, clattering onto the stones. Everyone recoiled in horror.
"Jesus Christ, Amos!" Au shouted.
He spat the last pebble, his lips bleeding. "It's fine," he rasped, wiping his mouth. "It's nothing."
But his eyes wouldn't meet theirs.
The road darkened faster than it should have. The sky bled into crimson twilight though the sun had not yet set.
That was when Liz pointed a trembling hand ahead.
Figures.
They were rising out of the stones themselves, black as ash, their bodies skeletal, hollow-eyed. Soldiers in fragments of armor, shields fused to their arms, swords rusted but sharp in the fading light.
They marched in silence, their heads jerking at inhuman angles, feet dragging across the road. The air grew heavy with the stench of iron and decay.
Rica screamed. Amos pulled Liz behind him. Ry raised his fists like he could fight ghosts.
And then a new sound split the air—harsh, guttural chanting.
From the tree line, a man strode forward.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, his skin weathered bronze. His hair was tied back, streaked with silver, and his eyes burned with an otherworldly fire. He wore fragments of armor that shimmered faintly, as though they were half-real, half-spirit. In his hand he carried a long spear wrapped in glowing symbols.
With a roar, he hurled himself into the spirits. His weapon flared with light, tearing through the shadows. The soldiers shrieked, their bodies dissolving into smoke with each strike.
The students froze, stunned, as he fought like a man possessed. Chant after chant spilled from his mouth, his voice resonant with authority older than Rome itself.
Within moments, the road was empty again.
The warrior planted his spear in the ground and turned to face them.
"You walk cursed," he said, his accent deep and strange. "And the road already claims you."
The group stood frozen, hearts pounding.
Finally, Gems found her voice. "Who… who are you?"
The man's gaze softened, though his stance remained firm.
"I am Toja," he said. "A spirit warrior. I fight what should not walk this road."
The warrior stood tall, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, as though each inhalation pulled strength from the earth itself. The spear he carried shimmered faintly, symbols pulsing across its length like living veins of fire.
The group stared at him, stunned into silence.
Finally, Ry stepped forward, his voice breaking. "What—what were those things?"
Toja's eyes lingered on him a moment, as though weighing his spirit. "Echoes. The road remembers the dead who marched upon it. Soldiers, slaves, wanderers. Those who bled into these stones. The Appian Way is no path—it is a grave stretched across the land."
Rica clung to Ry's arm, her body trembling. "And why did they come for us?"
Toja's gaze sharpened. "Because you are marked."
Au stiffened. "Marked? By what?"
The warrior's eyes swept over them all, pausing longest on Gems. He seemed to see straight through her skin, into her bones. "By hunger. Something older than your books. Something that feeds on weakness, on lies, on betrayal."
His voice carried weight, a deep timbre that seemed to vibrate in the stones under their feet.
Amos spat blood into the dirt, defiant even as his hands shook. "We didn't ask for any of this."
"No," Toja said. "But you carry it. One of you invited it in."
Every head turned, inevitably, toward Anaya.
She did not flinch beneath the stares. Her expression was unreadable, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
"You would blame me," she murmured, her voice soft but steady. "But the road chose. Not I."
Au snapped, "You liar! Bob—he disappeared the moment you came with us. You—"
"Enough," Toja thundered, the sound echoing like a drum. The cypress trees themselves seemed to sway at the force of it. "If you tear at each other, you are already dead."
Silence dropped over them like a blade.
Marky swallowed hard and asked the question that pressed on all of them. "What about our friend? Bob. He vanished. Is he—"
"Dead?" Toja's face darkened. He lifted his spear, tapping the butt against the stone. Sparks flared. "No. Worse. The road holds him. Between worlds. A servant to the hunger."
Rica covered her mouth, muffling a sob. Amos staggered back, shaking his head violently. "No. He's alive. He's alive, I can feel it."
"You feel what the road wants you to feel," Toja said grimly. "It will wear his face, speak his voice. But he is no longer yours."
Au's legs buckled, and she dropped to her knees. "No… no…"
Anaya's eyes closed briefly, almost in prayer. "I told you. The road keeps what it desires."
Toja's gaze snapped to her. "And you walk freely among them. Why?"
She opened her eyes slowly, unblinking. "Because I belong to it too."
The air tightened around them. Even the crows in the trees fell silent.
Toja stepped into their circle, his presence commanding, grounding.
"You cannot outrun this curse. Not in the city, not in walls, not even across the sea. The Appian Way is the oldest wound in your world, and it bleeds still. It knows you now. To survive, you must cleanse yourselves."
Liz's voice shook as she asked, "Cleanse? How?"
"A ritual of unity," Toja said. He knelt, dragging his spear across the dirt, forming a circle. "You must speak truth. All secrets laid bare. All betrayals confessed. Only then will the hunger loosen its grip."
Silence met his words.
The group exchanged looks. Their faces pale, tense.
Ry scoffed first, breaking the stillness. "That's superstition. Old-world nonsense. We're dealing with something—paranormal, sure—but not… not fairy tales."
Toja's eyes narrowed, flaring with firelight. "Then die by your reason. The road will not bend to arrogance."
Rica clutched Ry's arm tighter, whispering, "Please, Ry… please, just listen."
But Ry shook her off, turning away, his pride a shield against the terror gnawing at him.
The group began to splinter again.
Au, red-eyed and shaking, hissed at Anaya: "You'll never tell the truth, will you? You dragged Bob to his death and you sit there calm as stone."
Anaya only lowered her gaze. "Would the truth comfort you?"
Amos shouted, "Stop it! Bob isn't gone! He'll come back, I know he will. We just need to keep moving."
Liz snapped her camera up, desperate. "We can't ignore what Toja's saying. Look—look at this." She showed them the screen: a photo of them on the road. But their faces were cracked like porcelain, black veins spidering from their eyes.
Everyone recoiled.
Rica sobbed openly, "We're cursed… oh God, we're cursed…"
Gems clenched her fists, forcing her voice steady. "Enough. We need to decide. Either we trust him"—she nodded to Toja—"or we fall apart right here."
Marky's eyes met hers, steady, a quiet agreement shining there. He didn't speak, but his silence was support enough.
Toja studied them with a sadness carved deep into his face.
"You are young," he said, almost to himself. "You think time stretches endless before you. But this road has swallowed empires, kings, lovers, warriors. What makes you think it cannot swallow you too?"
He lifted his spear, and for a moment the glow illuminated scars across his arms and chest—marks not from this life alone. He had been fighting longer than any mortal should.
"The hunger will test you," he said. "It will tempt you with voices, with faces, with comfort. Do not follow. Do not trust." His eyes moved over them all, heavy with warning. "Even your friend."
Rica whimpered. Au sobbed. Amos's fists shook at his sides.
The group had never felt smaller, never felt so raw, stripped bare under the weight of the road's gaze.
The sky had dimmed entirely now, twilight bleeding into night. Shadows thickened, stretching unnaturally across the stones.
Toja lifted his spear and planted it in the ground. A circle of fire flared around them, protective and warm against the growing chill.
"You will not walk further tonight," he said firmly. "To step on the road in darkness is to invite the legion of the lost."
The group huddled around the fire. Nobody dared argue.
In the distance, faint but unmistakable, the sound of drums began to roll. Slow, steady, endless.
The sound of an army marching closer.
Toja's jaw tightened. His eyes burned like coals.
"The road knows you are here," he said softly.
And none of them doubted him.
The fire crackled, its glow dancing against the ruined stones and weathered cypress trunks. Toja sat cross-legged on the ground, his spear laid across his knees, the glowing symbols pulsing softly in rhythm with the fire itself.
The group clustered close together. None dared drift toward the darkness beyond the circle. It was as though the night had weight, pressing down on them, shifting with unseen movements.
No insects chirped. No owls called. The silence was absolute, broken only by the distant, steady roll of those drums.
The marching never stopped.
Toja's gaze swept the group, sharp as the spear across his lap.
"The circle will hold them for now," he said. "But not forever. Fire protects, but the road is patient. You must face what binds you."
Amos gave a sharp laugh, brittle and exhausted. "You keep saying that—'face what binds you.' What does that even mean?"
Toja leaned forward, the firelight deepening the scars carved across his face. "It means you carry weights unseen. Secrets. Betrayals. Shadows of your own making. The hunger feasts on them. Until you tear them free, you are already half-claimed."
Silence.
Nobody met each other's eyes.
The fire snapped, sparks leaping into the air. For a heartbeat, Gems thought she saw faces in the flames—Bob's grin, then his scream. She squeezed her fists tight and looked away.
Across the circle, Rica began to shiver violently. "It's cold," she whispered. "So cold."
Ry wrapped his jacket around her, but she didn't stop trembling. Her eyes rolled back for a moment and she gasped:
"He's here."
Everyone froze.
"Who?" Au demanded, voice breaking.
Rica's head lolled forward. Her lips moved, whispering in a voice not entirely her own:
"Bob… he's walking. Just beyond the fire. He wants us to come."
Amos bolted halfway to his feet. "See? I told you! He's out there!"
Toja's hand shot out, catching his arm like iron. "Sit. Down. That is not your friend. It is his shadow, and it will lead you into the stones."
Amos trembled, fury and desperation twisting his face, but he obeyed.
Toja began drawing symbols into the dirt with the butt of his spear. "You must speak truth," he said again. "Each of you. What you hide, what festers. Only honesty can starve the hunger."
He looked at Au first.
She swallowed, her eyes blazing with grief. "Bob… Bob and I—" Her voice cracked. "We fought. The night before he disappeared, I saw him with…" She stopped, her gaze cutting to Anaya.
The air thickened instantly.
"You blame her," Toja said. "But you withhold what you know."
Au's eyes burned with tears. She turned her face away.
Liz bit her lip until it bled. "We shouldn't do this," she whispered. "Not here."
"Here," Toja said firmly, "or nowhere. The road will not wait for your comfort."
But nobody spoke further.
The silence swelled, heavy with unsaid words.
And the fire dimmed.
Marky leaned closer to Gems, his voice low. "They'll tear each other apart before they admit anything."
Gems' throat tightened. "Then we hold them together. Somehow."
But even she wasn't sure how much longer she could.
The shadows pressed closer. Beyond the fire, movement flickered—soldiers without eyes, faces without skin, whispering voices of people they knew.
Rica sobbed suddenly, covering her ears. "They're calling me. They sound like my mother…"
Ry pulled her close, shaking his head violently. "Don't listen, Rica. Don't you dare listen." His own voice cracked on the last word.
Then Amos clutched his stomach and doubled over. When he coughed, small stones spilled from his mouth again, scattering across the dirt.
Everyone recoiled. Even Ry's eyes widened in horror.
Toja slammed his spear into the ground, the fire surging higher for a moment. His voice thundered:
"The curse digs deeper. If you keep your lies, you will all choke on them."
The marching grew louder. No longer distant, but near—so near that the ground itself trembled in rhythm.
Liz lifted her camera with trembling hands, snapping a photo into the dark. The flash revealed dozens—no, hundreds—of shadowed figures standing just beyond the circle. Soldiers, civilians, beasts. A legion of the forgotten, their hollow eyes glowing faintly.
The group gasped. Liz dropped the camera, her body shaking. "They're everywhere…"
Toja stood, spear blazing. "Do not break the circle."
The shadows surged forward, but the fire flared, holding them at bay. Their whispers rose, overlapping voices that clawed at the mind. Promises, accusations, cries for help.
Among them, Bob's voice rang clear as a bell:
"Gems…"
She froze. Her chest constricted, tears burning her eyes.
"Help me…"
Marky grabbed her wrist, shaking his head furiously. "It's not him. Don't listen!"
But her heart splintered at the sound.
The flames guttered suddenly, as if a vast breath had swept across them. The circle dimmed.
Rica collapsed, unconscious. Amos convulsed, spitting gravel and blood. Liz dropped to her knees, muttering prayers. Au wept openly, clawing at the dirt.
Ry's face twisted between rage and terror, denial crumbling as he saw what he could no longer explain.
Gems forced herself to her feet, voice trembling but fierce. "Stop! We can't break—we won't!"
Marky stood beside her, steady as stone, his hand brushing hers for a heartbeat before pulling away.
Toja's eyes burned with both pride and sorrow as he lifted his spear high, chanting louder, calling fire from the earth itself.
The circle flared bright again, forcing the shadows back—for now.
But in the distance, the drums did not stop. They only grew louder.
As the group huddled together, Toja's voice dropped, grave and certain:
"The road knows you. It will not let go. Until truth is spoken, you are already lost."
The firelight flickered across their terrified faces. None of them dared speak.
Above, the stars hid themselves behind thick clouds.
And in the dark beyond the circle, Bob's voice whispered one last time:
"Come walk with me…"