The path that led away from the black lake was silent.
But something followed them.
Not in footsteps.
In presence.
It clung to their skin like invisible ink — heavy, sharp, and growing colder. Frank walked at the front now, blade strapped tightly against his back, his eyes constantly shifting left and right. Kitty walked near Tom, who hadn't said much since his collapse. He moved fine. He looked fine. But Lucy noticed something — his left hand trembled, only when he thought no one was watching.
Peter walked beside Susan, who was furiously scribbling in her journal, glyph readings pinging from her scanner at odd intervals. The further they moved east, the more the glyph lines around them twisted. Some spiraled upward like broken roots, others simply blinked in and out of the visible spectrum, like ghosts half-fading from memory.
Jack had fallen to the back of the group.
Not by choice.
He just felt... slower.
He didn't mention the headache. Or the weight in his chest. Or the faint ringing in his ears that had begun shortly after the lake. He figured it was just exhaustion. He told himself that over and over. Until it wasn't true anymore.
Because that's when he saw it.
A flash of something — not in the distance, but under his sleeve.
He stopped, pulled back his coat.
And froze.
There, just above his elbow, a glyph had appeared.
Not one of his.
Not one he had ever studied.
It wasn't drawn. It was grown — like it had rooted itself beneath his skin, then bloomed upward like a parasite made of language.
He gasped.
Lucy turned. "Jack?"
He yanked his sleeve back down. "Nothing. Just tripped."
But Lucy narrowed her eyes. She didn't push — not yet. But she was watching now.
They made camp at dusk near a ridge lined with old statues, broken and half-buried in moss. Frank set up a perimeter using Palecto symbols, while Peter crafted a set of runes to distort their energy signature. Kitty and Susan gathered dry vines to weave a quick shelter canopy.
Lucy sat beside the fire.
Jack sat across from her.
He looked at the flames, not her.
"You sure you're okay?" she asked gently.
He didn't answer for a second.
Then nodded. "Yeah. Just tired."
Lucy said nothing.
Tom joined them a few minutes later, still pale but steady. He sat down and reached for a piece of fruit from their pack, then hesitated.
On the back of his palm, a faint mark had appeared.
Different from Jack's.
But equally wrong.
He turned it over quickly and lowered his hand.
Lucy saw it.
But she didn't speak.
Not yet.
Kitty stood beside Frank, arms folded. "We're being tagged, aren't we?"
Frank nodded slowly. "Velmorith's reach is evolving."
Susan came over. "Glyph markers. Subconscious anchors. He's trying to write us into his design."
Kitty whispered, "Then we're becoming part of his spell."
Frank clenched his jaw. "Not if we break it before it takes."
Susan turned to the group. "Everyone. Check yourselves. Now."
Jack hesitated.
Tom didn't move.
Lucy stood and spoke first. "This isn't about shame. It's survival."
Slowly, one by one, the group pulled back sleeves, collars, gloves — checking for glyph traces.
Peter was clean.
Susan too.
Kitty had nothing.
Lucy's hands were bare.
But when Jack rolled up his sleeve, the glyph pulsed.
Twice.
Then faded to black.
Tom reluctantly held out his palm.
A mark like cracked gold shimmered on the skin.
Susan stepped forward immediately. "It's not active — yet. But it's grown inside your veins. This isn't a curse."
Kitty's voice was soft. "It's an invitation."
Frank knelt beside Tom. "Can you still think clearly?"
Tom nodded. "It doesn't feel like a voice. It feels like a door."
Jack swallowed hard. "Mine's the same. Like something wants me to step through."
Peter stepped forward. "Then we don't wait. We burn the glyphs out."
Susan shook her head. "We can't just burn them. They're woven into memory strands. If we destroy them now, we risk damaging you."
Lucy asked, "Then what do we do?"
Susan opened her journal. "We override them."
Kitty raised an eyebrow. "With what?"
Susan began drawing. "With ourselves."
They worked through the night.
Susan crafted override glyphs based on each individual's core memories — a specific symbol tied to identity, one that couldn't be overwritten. Lucy's was a curved crescent surrounded by water — her moment of connection. Kitty's looked like a wing wrapped in flame. Peter's was a spiral of steel. Frank's, oddly, looked like a shattered blade reformed.
Tom and Jack sat still while the glyphs were carefully pressed into place beside the corrupted ones.
The moment it touched Tom's hand, he flinched.
His breath caught.
Then steadied.
Jack clenched his jaw. "Do it."
Susan pressed the symbol to his arm.
His mark glowed.
Once.
Then faded.
The original mark — Velmorith's — retreated just slightly.
Susan let out a long breath. "It's not cured. But it's held."
Frank stood. "Then we keep going. No more delays."
Lucy looked at him. "How long do we have before the glyphs start pushing again?"
Susan looked up at the stars. "Hard to say. But we've slowed them."
Tom closed his hand slowly. "It's like… part of me is being watched."
Jack nodded. "Same."
Kitty moved beside them. "Then you're not alone."
They didn't sleep much.
But they dreamed.
And for the first time…
They weren't sure if the dreams were theirs.