Dawn brought no relief to the city. The silent square seemed suffocated by the weight of the previous night. Rumors of shadows, Raul's disappearance, and tales of dissolved memories hung in the air like a heavy fog. Some residents tried to organize themselves into groups, others simply remained motionless, as if fear had drained their vitality.
Miguel watched in silence. Beside him, Elisa clutched to her chest the notebook that already seemed like an extension of herself—her weapon against oblivion. She wrote quickly:
"We need answers. The library won't wait, and the city has no more time."
Miguel nodded. He understood that alone, they wouldn't get far. The curse wasn't just corrupting voices: it was ripping away memories, trust, and, slowly, reason itself.
They called for those willing to face the unknown. Few came forward, but each brought something unique:
Sofia, the young teacher, still pale from the nightmares of the forest. She clutched a school notebook like a shield. "I can't protect all my students, but I can record what happens. Their memories depend on it."
Jorge, the retired archivist, stooped with age but with sharp eyes. "The library is my second skin. If there are answers, I know where to look."
Clara, the historian many called superstitious. She wore an ancient rosary around her neck and murmured: "Call it superstition if you will… but I've dreamed of these symbols. They're not just ink on paper."
Pedro, a craftsman's apprentice, restless, his fingers always stained with charcoal. "I don't know much about legends, but I can draw. If these runes hide a pattern, I'll tear it out."
Each one brought a piece of the puzzle: knowledge, skill, or just the courage to face the unknown.
Miguel raised the medallion. The artifact pulsed in response to the assembled group, radiating a gentle warmth. It wasn't just protection: it seemed to respond to the sum of intentions, as if recognizing courage in the face of fear.
The group entered the library, an old building in the city center, its walls covered in books and shelves creaking under the weight of centuries-old volumes. The smell of old paper mingled with the damp scent of wood, creating a dense, silent atmosphere.
Jorge led everyone to a side room, where archives and historical maps were stored. He quickly wrote:
"These sections have been little explored. Ancient documents, city maps, records of founders, and accounts of mysterious events."
The tables soon filled with books and notebooks. Sofia leafed through volumes on local myths, crossing out every mention of runes. Clara whispered low prayers as she searched for fragments of the Guardian's legend. Pedro spread sheets of paper and charcoal, tracing symbols with a craftsman's precision.
As they investigated, Miguel realized something: the runes that had appeared on the streets and in the forest were not simple engravings. They seemed to respond to the medallion's presence, vibrating or emitting a faint glow as it approached. Each symbol had a different frequency, a sort of invisible "tone" that seemed to communicate something, albeit incomprehensible.
Pedro began drawing the runes on separate sheets of paper, arranging patterns that might indicate a relationship between them. Some appeared in pairs, others in groups of three or five, almost as if they were phrases or formulas. Elisa wrote alongside:
"It looks like an ancient alphabet, but not of recognizable words. Perhaps it's a language of memories or intentions." "Living memories," Clara added, her eyes fixed on a rune that seemed to be spinning in the corner of the page.
Clara, examining the documents, commented:
"These symbols appear in ancient records, but always in fragmentary form. They never describe the Guardian directly, only warnings and protections."
Miguel touched one of the symbols on the library floor with the medallion. A chill ran down his arm. Nothing supernatural appeared, just a whisper in his mind: continue, but be careful.
The group spent hours collating observations. Some residents began reporting strange little experiences:
An elderly woman commented that, when she looked at a rune, childhood memories came flooding back, mixed with images she'd never seen before.
Children accompanying Sofia began drawing symbols on paper, imitating the runes, but noticing that some of them disappeared from the page shortly after.
"That's psychological!" Sofia insisted, banging her fist on her notebook. "Children draw because they've seen the symbols before. It's suggestion, not magic."
Clara retorted, raising her rosary. "Suggestion doesn't erase drawings from paper. You want to call what you don't understand science. The Guardian operates in silence, and you provoke her."
A man in the crowd shouted, "And Raul? Are you going to say it was superstition that took him?"
Another countered, "If we keep praying, we'll lose more people! We need to understand the rules of this, not kneel."
The murmur grew until it became almost a disordered chorus of accusations. Silent screams, desperate looks, pointing fingers. The room seemed to fragment like the memories the curse devoured.
Miguel raised the medallion. A wave of vibration passed through the room. The sound was absent, but everyone felt it. Gradually, the discord dissolved into tense silence.
Clara commented:
"Perhaps the Guardian doesn't need to show herself. Perhaps she operates through intentions and not physical presence."
Elisa nodded, writing:
"That explains why we found nothing concrete. She works through symbols, patterns, and energy."
Pedro, sweating, spread out sheets of paper with symbols connected by lines. "They group together in pairs... trios... entire sentences. It's as if they form invisible messages."
Elisa pointed to a diagram. "Messages that only the medallion can reveal."
Jorge sighed deeply. "Not even in the most obscure records have I seen such restless symbols. It's as if they were watching us."
Sofia closed her eyes and wrote: "It's like looking through thick fog. The more we think we understand, the more we lose ourselves."
Miguel nodded mentally. The next step would be to connect what they'd learned in the forest with what they'd discovered in the library to begin mapping the runes and the curse.
Despite hours of study and attempts to decipher patterns, there was no direct sign of the Guardian. Not a reflection, not a sudden movement, not a palpable shadow within the library. Only the runes, the medallion, and the silent echo of fear and fragmented memory.
Night fell, and the city remained restless. Small groups gathered in houses, jotting down memories before they faded. The silence felt like a thick curtain, too heavy to be moved.
In the empty square, Miguel and Elisa stood together. The medallion in his hand glowed a fragile gold, responding to the runes hidden beneath the earth.
Miguel wrote in the notebook, his letters firm:
"There are no easy answers. But each rune deciphered is a step. Each memory rescued, a hope."
Elisa touched his hand and murmured:
"The legend exists, Miguel. But it hides in the little things. Symbols, stories… what we forget to value."
He looked at her, and for an instant, fear turned to determination. The investigation was just beginning. The Guardian remained invisible—but the city could still fight against oblivion.