The motel smelled like piss, bleach, and betrayal.
Perfect.
Jung Min dropped Azari onto the stiff mattress like a duffel bag full of regrets. She groaned, rolled over, and immediately curled into fetal position.
"Lights off," she muttered.
"They're already off."
"Then turn off the sun."
Jung Min didn't answer. He was at the window, pistol in hand, curtain barely cracked. Watching.
Always watching.
They didn't follow.
Too smart. Or too scared. Or both.
He stepped away from the window and locked the door. Then locked the second lock. Then jammed a chair under the knob for good measure.
Azari peeked up.
"We gonna talk about that last thing?"
"No."
"You sure? Because I think I—"
"No."
She groaned again and buried herself under the scratchy blanket.
Jung Min sat on the edge of the second bed, staring at the relic resting between them on the nightstand. It wasn't glowing. It wasn't twitching. But it was watching.
He could feel it. That static buzz behind his eyes, the one that told him he was in a room with something that should not exist.
He lit a cigarette and leaned back.
"You ever heard of the Choir of Ruin?"
Azari peeked out from the blanket. "No. Sounds like a metal band."
"It's what the Saints whisper about when they think God can't hear."
"So like... hell?"
"No. Worse."
He took a drag. Didn't exhale right away.
"They're not demons. Not angels. Not even people. Just... echoes of what happens when faith goes too far."
"You're saying they're real?"
"I'm saying they were buried. And someone's trying to dig them back up."
Azari sat up. Serious now.
"You think it's the Order?"
"I think the Order's stupid enough to do it and desperate enough not to care."
The relic buzzed. Just once.
Jung Min stared at it. Then picked it up and held it close to his ear.
Static.
Then something deeper.
A voice. Soft. Familiar. Like hearing your mother call your name from behind a closed door.
He dropped it instantly.
Azari's eyes widened.
"What did it say?"
Jung Min shook his head.
"I don't know."
I don't want to know.
There was a knock at the door.
Not loud. Not fast. But deliberate.
Azari froze.
Jung Min stood up slow.
He walked to the door.
Didn't say a word.
Didn't ask who it was.
He just listened.
On the other side, someone whispered:
"You broke the seal. He's waking up."
Jung Min yanked the door open—
The hallway was empty.
But carved into the wall were six words, burned in with something ancient and furious:
"The Choir is already singing."