They headed south, returning to the abandoned wagon. Nearby, Rugr had concealed the box containing Kleo's mother's body. He bore the responsibility of delivering it to the Demana sanctuary in the great western desert. There, Kleo would summon her mother's soul home from the spirit realm—a reunion she had unknowingly awaited for most of her life.

  Rugr took the lead, with Will and Maya following close behind and Kleo and Jack bringing up the rear. Though the weather had cleared, the ground remained soggy, and the river rushed past, swollen and angry. Fortunately, they wouldn't need to cross it—they would continue south as the river turned west toward Cabal and the great southern sea.

  Two hours into the ride, Jack broke away west toward the temple. Kleo had hesitated to let him go alone—his purpose was to find the Whispering Secret. Though the enigmatic creature unsettled her, Jack stood firm. He was convinced the entity owed him something valuable: information they could use for the trials ahead. Despite their efforts to conceal Jack's destination, Will and Maya guessed where he was going. The abandoned temple was the only logical choice—nothing else made sense.

  As Jack rode, he wrestled with a pressing dilemma—he had nothing to trade. Despite everything that had changed since their last meeting, he couldn't think of a worthy secret. Even his Demana magic, the power connected to his bond with Kleo, felt inadequate since he suspected the hive mind had already sensed this ability during their first encounter.

  He would save that option as a last resort. He needed something valuable to offer the creature—a secret worthy of the insight he hoped to gain. He feared having to trade one of the Astirian secrets he'd learned the previous night. They weren't his secrets to share, and betraying Kleo’s confidence troubled him deeply, but the stakes were too high. Protecting Kleo meant taking risks—and hesitation could prove costly.

  When the temple finally loomed into view, its crumbling fa?ade appeared more ominous than he remembered. Shadows draped the stonework like mourning veils while the air hung heavy, saturated with the weight of forgotten things. Jack dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby tree. As his gaze lingered on the ruins, unease coiled in his gut. Though he despised this place, he needed whatever knowledge the creature might offer.

  Moss and decay made the temple steps treacherous. Jack steadied himself before entering, his movements careful and deliberate. Familiar dread washed over him in the first room. Thick dust motes hung in the stagnant air, accompanied by a faint stench of rot. He crouched low, scanning the debris-strewn floor for movement. An unnatural, heavy silence pressed on him, and the oppressive atmosphere made his heart race.

  He chose to wait in the second room, knowing the Whispering Secret would find him if it were nearby. He wouldn't venture into the sanctuary itself—the thought of descending into that eerie, glowing chamber without Kleo made him uneasy. The hidden door's lever mechanism was too complex to solve alone, and he had no wish to risk trapping himself inside.

  He climbed over a pile of fallen stone to reach the second room, stirring years of settled dust with each step. Though the room beyond appeared untouched, ancient memories seemed to pulse in its air. A profound sorrow saturated the space, threatening to erode his resolve. The chamber felt alive—a presence that feasted on despair. He clenched his fists and pushed back against the dark emotions—this place would not sink its claws into him.

  Jack moved into a shadowy corner and settled onto a fragment of collapsed stone. He recalled the creature's words from their last encounter: "The Fates weave paths of suffering." Though the exact phrase might have been even darker—his memory was hazy—just thinking about it made his skin crawl.

  His patience proved both a reward and punishment, for the creature appeared sooner than expected. The shadows shifted with deliberate intent. The temperature plummeted, and Jack's breath hitched as he caught sight of the familiar, unsettling form. The Whispering Secret was here.

  The figure of the Sasayaka reta Himitsu rose from the shadows, their dark shape hovering over him. The twisted faces—a grotesque disfigurement—drew him in and pulled at his mind. He looked away, but the figure shifted back into view, studying him curiously. Once satisfied with their inspection, the figure spoke.

  “Something pulls, Jack. Something pulls at the threads of Astiria’s past,” the figure rasped, their voice low and heavy, like the grinding of ancient stones.

  “Ripples. Violent ripples, Pulls, and Pulls,” the chorus hissed, their voices overlapping in a chilling melody of despair.

  “Yes, ripples,” the figure agreed, the many faces shifting unnaturally. “Vibrating in the memory of our bones.”

  The chorus lamented, a dreadful harmony echoing in the air: “Bones. Old bones. Forgotten bones.”

  “The harmonics are maddening,” Ke’moto continued, its tone edged with anguish, “piercing us, shaking us to our core.”

  The chorus erupted in wails of dissonance, their words twisting into indistinct and jumbled cries.

  “We need your help, Jack,” the figure implored, its many mouths twisting into unsettling smiles. “We seek relief.”

  “Anguish. Agony. Anguish and agony,” the chorus shrieked, their pain palpable.

  Jack recoiled, instinctively leaning back. The oppressive air pressed against his chest like unseen hands. He wasn’t sure how he could help and even less sure he wanted to.

  “The key to Astiria, Jack,” Ke’moto said, their tone shifting to dark persuasion. “A way in—a way to see for ourselves, to relieve us of this torment, of this absence.”

  The chorus swelled, their voices a cacophony vibrating in Jack’s bones. “The key! The key! Give us the key!” they cried, their intensity forcing Jack to press his hands against his ears.

  “I don’t even know where Astiria is,” Jack shouted over the din, his voice straining.

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  A hush of silence descended, and then laughter came in waves, growing as the chorus of voices joined.

  “Astiria is not a where Jack.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Jack muttered. Coming here had been a bad idea.

  “That might be for the best. What we seek is a key. A key to open the door.”

  “The key opens the door. We must open the door!”

  “I don’t have a key to Astiria!”

  The figure leaned closer, its shadow looming. “Do you?” they asked, their voice now soft but laced with a desperate, menacing desire.

  The chorus wailed in unison, “Tell us, tell us the secret, tell, tell!“ Their voices rose, jagged and uneven. We must know!

  Jack gritted his teeth, his hands still clamped over his ears. “I don’t know how to find Astiria; I don’t have a key—and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you!” he yelled, his voice filled with defiance.

  The figure’s many faces turned toward him, studying him with a disquieting stillness. For a moment, the cacophony stopped.

  Then the chorus muttered: “Take it, take it, take it from you. We would.”

  Ke’moto remained still, their presence looming like a shadow pressed against Jack’s soul. Then, voices resigned; they whispered, “He tells the truth.”

  The words seemed to ripple through the figure, and the chorus erupted into a groan of disappointment. “Truth! Truth! He tells the truth,” they muttered, their once-booming voices fading into low, indistinct murmurs.

  Ke’moto straightened, its towering form somehow smaller, the many faces slack with displeasure. “You disappoint us, Jack,” they said finally, their tone carrying the weight of bitter frustration.

  Jack exhaled, his hands dropping from his ears. “I’d say that makes us even,” he muttered, glaring at the figure.

  The Whispering Secret tilted its head as if considering him anew. “Perhaps,” they said, their voice hollow. “But the ripples remain. The bones ache. We will find the key, one way or another.”

  The chorus sighed like the wind through dead trees: “The key will be revealed.”

  Jack knew a secret about Astiria. Though it wasn't his to tell, with the figure pressing him, he realized its potential value. He would demand something equally valuable to ease his conscience and justify betraying this confidence as a mere transaction.

  Jack hesitated, his pulse hammering like a warning drum. This wasn't his truth to share—it belonged to Kleo and Rugr, and revealing it could weaken their bond. Yet as the Whispering Secret loomed, their faces writhing in grotesque anticipation, Jack knew he couldn't leave this bargain without gaining something in return.

  He exhaled, the words catching in his throat. “Certain members of the Astirian leadership cut a deal with the dark lords of the Sa Kamal to undermine the defenses of Demana and, in return, received the keys to Astiria.”

  The Whispering Secret grew still, the countless mouths falling silent as though frozen mid-breath. Their faces shifted slowly, realigning like shards of broken glass until they formed a great serpent. With glowing crimson eyes and a flickering forked tongue, they hissed a single, chilling word: "Treachery."

  The chorus erupted, voices clamoring in a cacophony of delight: “Treachery! Hideous betrayal! Delectable betrayal! Delicious, vile betrayal!”

  The figure convulsed, trembling as if Jack's words had sent a ripple through their very essence. The serpent's face split into a hideous grin, their fangs gleaming in the dim light. "Names, Jack," they purred. "Give me names. Who betrayed Demana?"

  "No," Jack said sharply, his voice steadier than he felt. "Our agreement was one secret for another of equal value."

  The serpent's face splintered, morphing into a dozen smirking visages. "Ah, but secrets beget secrets, do they not? A mere taste will not suffice. We want the entire feast."

  The chorus keened: "He must give! He must yield! Names, names, names!"

  Jack gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over. "You've had your secret! Now, you owe me one!"

  The Whispering Secrets’ faces rearranged themselves into what seemed like mockery.

  "Owe? Do you believe it is so simple, Jack? A mere trade of words? No, no—the value of a secret lies not in its telling but in its meaning." They leaned forward, the multitude of faces looming closer. "What pleasure would there be if we handed you an answer? No, the true delight lies in discovering that meaning."

  The chorus hissed in discord: "No games! No riddles! He must accept! Honor the trade!"

  "Quiet," the figure snapped, silencing the discordant voices. They retrained their attention to Jack, their tone lilting with playfulness. Very well. You seek a secret, yes? Something to aid you, to protect your precious Kleo."

  Jack’s patience was wearing thin. "That was the deal."

  "Yes, that was our agreement." The figure's tone turned sly. "But perhaps you needn't protect Kleo's secrets from us if you're going to reveal them anyway?"

  Jack winced.

  The figure's faces shifted again, cycling through expressions of thoughtfulness, disdain, and glee. "Hmm... what to offer? What to reveal? There are so many truths, each more tantalizing than the last. To give you an answer would be—" They paused, savoring the moment. "Dull."

  Jack's fists clenched. "I didn't come here for your amusement."

  The figure’s laughter was a thousand fractured notes, sharp and grating. “Oh, but you did. You came for a secret, and secrets are our domain. But we told you their power is not in the telling, Jack. It is in unraveling the meaning. The chase, the realization—that is where their true value lies.”

  They paused, considering. “Something waits, Jack. It knows you're coming.”

  “Dark! Something dark. Waiting!” cried the chorus, fear resonating in their voices.

  “Is that the secret?” Jack asked, unsure.

  “It is no secret. She will know. She will be drawn to its malevolence, just as it is drawn to her.”

  The creature became lost in thought, their faces shifting faster than Jack could register. When the serpent's face returned, the long tongue flicked in the air as they whispered: “Make the connection, take the bait.”

  Jack frowned. “Is that the secret? It sounds like a riddle.”

  The chorus howled in disagreement: “The riddle is the secret! The secret is the riddle! Accept, accept!”

  Jack glared at the shifting form, his frustration bubbling over. “You’re twisting the deal. You owe me something tangible.”

  “Tangible?” The figure seemed to savor the word, rolling it around like a morsel. “What could be more tangible than the threads of meaning you will weave yourself? To hand you the answer would rob you of its value.”

  The chorus wailed: “Unravel the meaning! Trust! Trust! He must trust! He must accept!”

  Jack's thoughts raced. The Whispering Secret’s nature was maddening, but he couldn’t deny the allure of its logic. The creature’s riddle could be a way of planting seeds, forcing him to see revelations that he might otherwise miss. As much as he hated to admit it, uncovering the truth was often more valuable than the truth itself.

  “Fine,” he said at last. “But next time, I expect more.”

  The figure’s smile widened, grotesque and knowing. “Ah, but Jack, isn’t the fun in not knowing what to expect?”

  Jack’s face showed his frustration, and his exhaustion with the conversation was evident.

  The serpent's face leaned closer, their crimson eyes gleaming. “You still owe me, Jack. You hold my name.”

  Jack shook his head. “Just go. I’ve had enough of your games, Ke’moto.”

  The figure dissolved into shadows, the choruses’ parting words echoing in the void: “Ke’moto, Ke’moto, Ke’moto…”

  As the echoes faded, Jack felt a strange hollowness settle over him. The riddle gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, its meaning elusive yet insistent. What connection? What bait? He shook his head, forcing the questions aside as he rejoined Kleo.

  The creature had said something malevolent was waiting for them. This wouldn’t be news to Kleo. He felt like he had come away with nothing. The entire meeting had been a waste of time. This only amplified the guilt of sharing her and Rugr’s secret.

  With a sigh, he returned to the horse, riding southeast to meet the party waiting on the hill overlooking the Stone Wall marsh.