Aether doesn't answer, his focus fixed on the passage ahead. The stonework shifts from rough-hewn to carved, the walls beginning to show faded murals of a people long gone, their faces worn smooth by time. The corridor widens, opening into a vast, underground cavern.

Paimon's voice is a thin reed in the immense space. The cavern ceiling is lost in shadow, but the light reveals a titanic figure standing at its heart. A statue, carved from a pale, almost glowing stone, so massive that it must be at least forty meters tall. It depicts a figure in flowing robes, one hand raised, palm open, as if in offering or blessing. The face is serene, powerful, and utterly unfamiliar.

Paimon's babbling fades into background noise. Aether is already kneeling before the pedestal, fingers tracing the intricate, almost geometric, markings. They are old. Ancient. They feel like a puzzle he cannot solve. Like a book in a language he once knew but has forgotten.

The expedition log, however, must be completed. He notes the exact dimensions of the chamber, the position of the statue, the precise sequence of the symbols. He takes a rubbing of the inscription on a piece of parchment. The carving is deep and precise, not a single mark out of place. It is a message. A key. And he has no idea what it unlocks.

Aether doesn't answer. He turns, and then he runs.