Chapter 3: The Ruins of Truth

Chapter 3: The Ruins of Truth

She pulls to the edge of the thick forest and kills the SUV rental’s engine. There, the fog is
impenetrable, a grey blanket that swallows all sight and sound. Her breath is instantly fogged as
she steps out of the vehicle. It chills her bones to see a dampness seep within. The silence is
deafening—the occasional chirping of the bird’s way off or even rustling leaves caused by the
wind is a good exception.
Anaya shrugged her jacket and checked the minuscule GPS on her wrist for confirmation of
location. The excavation site was indeed deeper into the woods but buried within the tree line.
According to Dr. Mehra’s journal and local maps, it would take her about thirty minutes to hike
through that wilderness to reach the ruins. She had wanted to be alone, but every step into the
forest seemed to quicken her pulse.
The whispers of the previous night still rang in the edge of her thoughts and found her fingers
running across to the leather-bound journal that was shoved deep into her backpack. She felt
naked, almost exposed to the woods themselves. The woods were full of life, as if watching.
The path narrowed down, pushing through the underbrush; leaves brushed against her face
and hands. The earth beneath her boots was soft and damp from the mist and the rainfall that
had tormented the region over the past few days.
Anaya took out her phone from her pocket to check again her notes on her destination; the GPS
only indicated vague coordinates and nothing else- the network had no signal this far out. After
fifteen minutes of hiking, she came upon something unexpected—a small clearing with a few
metal tools scattered about.
Her breath hitched as she took in the sight. The tools, rusted and abandoned, looked as though
they had been left hastily, as if someone had fled. Nearby, the ground was torn up, muddy soil
dug out with frantic hands. It didn’t take much imagination to know that this had once been Dr.
Mehra’s excavation site.
Anaya’s heart thudded as she stepped into the clearing. Her boots crunched on loose dirt as she
took in the view. A battered, half-buried tent with wet leaves clung to it at the edge of the
clearing. Something felt off, the way it sat there, broken and battered, as if it had been violently
pulled down.
Her hand reached out automatically for her jacket pocket, which she fished into, pulling out her
phone. She flipped on the flashlight, casting the beam across the tent.
And there were what looked like splattered dark stains smeared across the material.
Blood.

It knocked the wind right out of her. Her eyes flicked back toward the excavation site. This was
no ordinary dig site. This was a place that had been abandoned in haste, torn apart by whatever
secrets Dr. Mehra had been chasing.
Anaya took a deep breath and steeled herself as she stepped toward the stone formation
dominating the center of the clearing. It loomed in the mist, an ancient ruin partially buried by
time and vegetation. Trees grew around it, ivy crawling over its surface and moss thickly coating
its stone.
As she drew closer, she began to make out faint symbols carved into the rock. The symbols sent
another chill up her spine. They seemed to match the descriptions found in Dr. Mehra’s
journal—the Sumerian-like symbols that he had recorded, symbols that seem to haunt his
entries in tandem with his descent into paranoia. Her fingers brushed against the weathered
stone and followed the symbols with her fingertips. They felt cold.
The strange marks had been worn smooth over time, but their shapes were still visible.
Geometric shapes. Spirals. Symbols that looked both ancient and modern at once. Anaya could
feel her breathing quicken as she considered the possibilities.
What did they mean? What had Dr. Mehra found here that had driven him to such
desperation?

She pulled the journal from her backpack again and began flipping through its pages. She had
memorized the symbols from his entries, but seeing them in person sent her mind into
overdrive. She shined her flashlight across the ruins, trying to get a clearer picture of them, but
there was so much ivy and weather-worn stone that the light only illuminated shadows.
Suddenly, her foot kicked something solid. Anaya stumbled forward, catching herself before she
fell. She looked down, her breath caught. Her flashlight revealed a small, partially buried
object—a tool. Her gloved hand reached down, pulling it free from the mud. It was a small
pickaxe, rusted and coated with dirt. She could feel her heartbeat in her chest as she examined
it. It was a tool Dr. Mehra had likely been using—abandoned here, dropped in a hurry.
She glanced back at the broken tent and the clearing. The unease in her gut felt like a living
thing now, tugging at her with every step. Something was very wrong here.
She moved closer to the ancient ruins, hoping to find more context about the symbols. Her
fingers traced the carvings again, this time more carefully. The symbols were deeply carved into
the stone, almost ritualistic in their complexity. The patterns felt deliberate, ancient, and yet
chillingly alive—like an ancient language meant to convey something powerful, something
unknowable.
A sudden rustling in the underbrush sent her spinning toward the sound. Anaya’s breath came
fast as she pointed the flashlight in that direction. The mist played tricks on her eyes, shadows
moving where there should have been nothing. Her pulse quickened, and her thoughts raced.

“It’s probably just a bird,” she whispered, trying to calm herself, but her voice sounded brittle in
the still air.
Her fingers closed tighter around the flashlight as she scanned the woods. She could feel her
muscles tense, every instinct warning her to leave. But the temptation to explore, to uncover
the truth of this place, was far too strong.
Anaya forced herself back toward the symbols, focusing on their design. She could almost feel
the pull of them, their strange and ancient language clawing at the edges of her mind. What
were these markings? What did they signify?
Was this an ancient curse? A relic from a forgotten time? Her mind felt like it was unraveling,
and she pushed her thoughts away, trying to regain control. She didn’t have much time. The
ruins were old, weathered, and buried beneath centuries of vegetation. She would need to be
careful here.
As she examined the symbols once again, she began to hear something—a low sound, just
beneath the surface. A whisper, faint and distant, unrecognizable but unmistakable. She froze,
her hands shaking. The sound came and went, like the rustle of wind, but it felt wrong.
It wasn’t the wind.
Anaya took a shaky breath, forcing herself to focus. She needed answers, but what she found
here only raised more questions. She looked back toward the clearing and the broken tent and
the shadows stretching around her in the mist. The symbols glowed faintly in her mind, more
vivid than they should have.
Whatever Dr. Mehra had come here to find—and whatever had followed him—was buried in
these woods.
And Anaya knew she had to dig deeper.
But the question lingered: Was she ready for what she would uncover