I move deeper into the crypt.

The walls are covered in symbols — not carved, but burned into the stone. They pulse faintly, like they're alive.

I stop in front of one section. The marks shift as I look at them — not moving, but rearranging themselves in my mind. Words form. Not in any language I know, but I understand them.

"Here lies the one who saw beyond. He who opened the door and found nothing."

I blink. The words fade.

"Saw beyond," I mutter. "Found nothing."

I feel the weight of the blade in my hand — still warm, still pulsing faintly.

"Don't just lie there staring at walls," Don Juan says. "Get up. We need to find a way out. You can die here any time — doesn't have to be today."

I look at the symbols one more time.

"He had the same marks," I say.

"And now he's dead," Don Juan replies. "Move."

I turn and walk deeper into the crypt.