It began with a hum.
Low, vibrating, ancient.
Like the city itself was whispering.
Enzo stood in front of the stone wall, fingers tracing the carvings that hadn't been there yesterday. Glyphs glowed under his touch—slowly spiraling outward into a circular pattern.
"This is it," he breathed. "The Archive."
The wall cracked open, parting like sliding puzzle pieces.
Inside was a chamber unlike anything they'd seen. No overgrown vines, no jungle creeping in—just smooth obsidian floors, floating candles, and glass-like panels lining the walls. It felt sterile. Preserved.
It felt... haunted.
The moment they stepped inside, the door sealed shut behind them.
"Uhhh... okay. We're not panicking yet, right?" Ace asked, already side-eyeing the floating orbs of light.
"Nope," Athena replied. "We're gathering data."
Each orb hovered before a panel, glowing faintly. Enzo stepped closer to one.
"Wait," Blair warned. "What if they're—"
Too late. The moment his hand touched the orb, it flared—and a vision slammed into all of them.
A man, dressed in explorer gear from the 1950s, stood in the jungle, wild-eyed. "Keitha is alive," he whispered. "It feeds off memory. Emotion. If you're reading this... it's already begun."
Flash.
A new image—this time, a girl no older than sixteen, crying. "My brother disappeared last night. He said he heard the city calling his name. I told him not to follow the lights."
Flash.
Another. A scientist screaming as vines wrapped around her. "We didn't belong. We took and took—Keitha doesn't forgive."
The visions kept coming. One after another. Explorers. Soldiers. Teens. Families.
All of them trapped.
All of them warned.
Zora clutched her chest. "They were like us."
"No," Sylvia whispered. "They were us. Curious. Brave. Naïve."
"Why show us this now?" Athena asked, scanning the room.
Ace pointed to the center, where a massive crystal pulsed like a heart. It was filled with flickering images—faces trapped in the glass.
"Because it wants us to remember," he said quietly.
The Archive wasn't just a vault of memories.
It was a graveyard.
Each wall was a record of the city's victims—names, faces, stories carved into light. The closer the squad looked, the more terrifying it became.
"There's... thousands," Blair murmured. "All explorers. Scientists. Even musicians?"
Sylvia pointed to a date: 1972.
"That's the year my grandmother's expedition vanished," she said. "She always talked about Keitha like it was real."
Enzo reached for another orb. This one was different—older, flickering. A man's voice echoed:
"We tried to map the city, but it changed every night. As if it knew we were watching."
Another:
"The moment we turned on each other, it attacked."
And another:
"The Archive was meant to guide us. But it only tells you what you're ready to see."
Zora stepped back. "So we're not just here by accident."
Athena's eyes narrowed. "This place called us."
"Chosen or cursed?" Ace muttered.
No one answered.
Suddenly, the central crystal dimmed. Then flared.
A new face appeared inside it—hazy, unclear—but watching.
The chamber shuddered. Lights blinked.
And a voice—deep, genderless, vibrating through their bones—spoke:
"You have seen. You have heard. But will you remember?"
Then silence.
The orbs dimmed. The walls grew cold.
And just like that, the Archive shut down.
The door behind them slid open.
Nobody moved.
"Okay," Blair said shakily, "so definitely not just a storage room."
"Nope," Enzo replied. "It's a warning. And maybe... a test."
Athena turned, eyes sharp. "We're next. Unless we figure out what happened to all of them—and how to stop it."
Outside, the jungle was eerily still.
But the feeling in the air had changed.
Not just fear now.
Purpose.
They weren't just visitors anymore.
They were part of the story.
And Keitha was far from done with them.