The sky was opaque. The morning light seemed hesitant, as if reluctant to pierce the thick clouds hanging over the city. Lucas walked through the downtown streets like an awakened ghost. With each step, he heard echoes—not from the pavement, but from within. Voiceless whispers. Ownerless words.
His head still throbbed from the previous night's dream. The abandoned hospital, the multiple versions of himself, the black balloon, the symbol on his forehead. And above all, the red eye watching from every direction. He felt there was something beyond dreams—as if invisible layers of reality were beginning to unveil themselves.
On the way to the precinct, he stopped in front of a newsstand. Headlines spoke of politics, inflation, common crimes. But his eyes were drawn to a small snippet in the lower corner of a page: "Residents of the Canindé neighborhood report shadows and strange symbols on abandoned walls."
It was the second report in a week. And the symbol described, though distorted, echoed the same design from his dream—the spiral with the eye at its center.
Upon arrival, he avoided Room 13. He headed straight to the second floor, where the old case files were stored. Élida awaited him there, seated on the floor among boxes of documents. She looked different. Less sarcastic, more focused.
"Slept at home this time?" she asked, though her voice sounded more concerned than teasing.
"I'm not even sure I slept," he replied, handing her a notebook filled with notes. "You're going to like this."
She read in silence, then adjusted her glasses and said:
"I found more about the symbol. Some references appear in military archives, under different names. It's called the 'Mark of Vigilance' or 'The Seal of the Forgotten Eye' in various places. It also shows up in an unindexed dossier from the 1980s. Seems connected to disappearances, psychotic episodes, and inexplicable events."
Lucas pulled up a chair and sat in front of her.
"Is that helpful?"
"It helps to know you're not the only crazy one seeing this."
Lucas glanced at one of the open boxes. Inside, old newspaper clippings. A 1983 headline read: "Nighttime disappearances in Canindé remain unexplained." Below, a black-and-white photo showed a wall with the same symbol that now haunted him.
"I want to visit that place," he said.
"You're not going alone. I'm going with you."
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
"Since when do you leave the system to get muddy with me?"
"Since I realized this case might not be just a case." She stood, grabbing a flashlight. "Have you noticed that this symbol seems to watch us back?"
The Canindé neighborhood was filled with muffled silences. Old buildings, some abandoned, others still inhabited by elderly residents who seemed to have forgotten that time had passed. The atmosphere felt like a frozen film—something between abandonment and secrecy.
They arrived at the street mentioned in the article. A large house with broken windows and fresh graffiti stood out. But behind it, hidden by an alleyway, was what remained of a forgotten chapel.
"This isn't even on the map," Élida murmured.
"Maybe because someone wanted it erased," Lucas replied.
They entered through the side; the wooden door creaked as if warning them. Inside, everything was covered in dust, but something remained alive: the markings on the floor. Symbols identical to those Lucas had seen in his dream. And at the back, a toppled altar with burnt-out candles—recent ones.
"Someone was here," Élida said tensely.
Lucas approached the altar. A wooden box lay partially buried under rubble. Inside, he found small papers with Latin inscriptions, repeated symbols, and a bluish, polished stone that pulsed with a faint light.
"This seems... to vibrate," he murmured.
"Don't touch it with your bare hands," Élida warned, without knowing why.
Even so, Lucas held the stone. For a moment, everything around him stopped. Sound. Time. Breath. In his mind, he heard a single phrase, in a language he didn't know, but understood:
"You are an Observer, even if unaware."
He dropped the stone. The impact echoed beyond the walls.
"Did you hear that?" he asked Élida, breathless.
"What?"
"The voice..."
She shook her head. "Nothing. But your eyes... they changed color for a moment. I swear."
Lucas touched his face. He was sweating cold.
"We need to take this—with care."
Back in the city, they left the stone with one of Élida's acquaintances: Father Cassiano, a scholar of mystical symbology and informal mentor on old cases. He received them in a small library behind the church, surrounded by old stained-glass windows and the scent of dried incense.
Cassiano held the stone with reverence. He studied it under the light, then whispered something in Latin. The stone's glow intensified for a few seconds.
"This is no common symbol," he said seriously. "We're dealing with echoes of a lost Order. Groups that existed before modern religions. People who saw the world beyond the surface."
Lucas frowned.
"So it's real?"
"Real is a fragile word, detective. But yes, this belongs to something called the Path of the Observer. It's not a cult or religion. It's... a lens."
"And this stone?"
"A focus. A spiritual anchor. Sometimes called a Degree Stone. But... it shouldn't be visible."
"What do you mean?"
"These stones only appear to those who have reached the compatible spiritual level. If you saw it... then something inside you has awakened."
Lucas shivered. The voice echoed again in his mind: "You are an Observer..."
Cassiano pointed to the papers.
"The most curious thing is that this symbol, the Eye with the Spiral, is forbidden in some traditions. It appears only in records when reality is about to split."
"Like a warning?"
"Or an invitation."
Later that night, Lucas returned to the abandoned building where he used to think. But he wasn't alone. As he climbed the stairs, he noticed signs of another presence: footprints in the dust, extinguished candles, a scribbled note with the same phrase from his dream:
"Wake before you are awakened."
He turned on his flashlight and illuminated the back wall. For the first time, he noticed symbols connecting like circuits. Like a map. A path. Hidden numbers among the lines, countdowns, arrows pointing nowhere.
He touched one symbol with his fingertips. Felt warmth. The floor seemed to tilt slightly.
"There are others like you. But not all follow the light."
Lucas sat on the floor and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply. Something was about to change. Reality was becoming increasingly fragile. As if ready to break.
And then, a new sound: footsteps. On the floor below.
Someone was coming up.
He turned off the flashlight.
And waited in the dark.