— We need that temple, — Trey said as the smoke from the distant fire rose above the trees.

  — You have no idea what you're getting into, — Kaira shook her head. — These pces aren't protected. Magic doesn't work there, and marks… they behave strangely.

  — That's exactly why it's leading us there, — Trey replied quietly.

  The temple was ancient. Even moss hadn't completely overgrown it — as if the very earth avoided touching the stones, on which bck palm prints remained, burned into the granite.

  No windows. Only one narrow passage — like a mouth stretched out in a silent scream. They entered with swords drawn.

  Inside was a hall paved with gray sbs, covered in signs simir to Trey's mark. Only… distorted. As if someone had tried to draw the same thing but had no hands. Or mind.

  — This isn't a temple. It's a cage, — Kaira whispered, looking at the shapes carved into the walls.

  — No, — Trey argued. — It's a record.

  He stopped at the central pilr. There was a drawing pressed deep into the stone:

  A creature standing above a crowd. Everyone below it had marks. And above it — emptiness, in which there was only one hand. Inky blood dripped from it.

  — That's him. The one who came through the mirror.

  — Or what you will become, — Kaira said.

  And at that moment, the ground shook.

  The walls vibrated like strings. Shadows crawled from under the floor, from narrow cracks. But not just shadows — they breathed. Red dots glowed in their empty eyes, pulsating in time with Trey's mark.

  — How many of them?! — Kaira shouted, firing back.

  — It's useless! — Trey felt them surround him. — This isn't a fight. It's… a ritual.

  They were needed here. They came themselves. And now they had become part of something bigger.

  — We need to find the center. There… something is calling.

  They rushed inwards, between the pilrs. The shadows didn't stop them — they only accompanied them. Whispered.

  — You are ours… you are ours… you have already begun the path…

  In the center of the hall was a circle drawn in blood and ash. In it — a throne. Made of stone. On it — a body. Dried up, mummified. And yet — alive.

  The eyes opened.

  — Greetings, carrier. I… was you. Before.

  Trey froze.

  — What?

  — We are all reflections. The mark is not a choice. It is a memory. And you are simply the next one who must pass it on.

  — Pass it on… to whom?

  — To the one who will come after you. When you… burn out.

  The mummy's eyes fred with bck fire. The temple walls creaked. Sand fell from the ceiling. Kaira screamed — but her voice was lost in the roaring sound.

  Trey didn't remember how he got out. Only the pulse in his temples. And a scar on his palm. A new one.

  A sign.

  And in his head — a voice:

  — Now you are part of us. And soon you will see what it means to be both hunter… and prey.