I leave Arhat behind and walk deeper into the ruins.

The mist follows me, low and cold. The symbols on the walls have stopped glowing, but I can still feel them watching.

Then I see it.

A body. Slumped against a broken pillar. Not a skeleton — not yet. Still flesh. Still clothes. Still holding something in its hands.

I stop a few steps away.

It's fresh. Or fresher than everything else here. Days, maybe. Not years.

"Someone else came looking," I say.

"And didn't make it," Don Juan replies.

I crouch down. The body is curled around its chest, hands clutching something.

I pull the hands apart.

A stone. Round, smooth, dark. Not a coin.

"What is that?"

"I don't know," Don Juan says. "But it's not what we're looking for."

I turn the stone over. On the back — a symbol. The same one that's on my arm.

"Another one," I mutter.

"Another what?"

"Another fool who tried."

I stand up and look ahead. The ruins stretch on.

"The coin doesn't exist," I say.

"What?"

"She's been sending people after something that was never there. That's the curse. Not the search. The hope."

Don Juan doesn't answer for a moment.

"So Arhat was right," he finally says.

"He was. And so was the lich. They just didn't know it."

I drop the stone. It hits the ground with a dull thud.

"Then what do we do now?"

"We stop playing her game."