Night had settled over the Shal'Ka village, cloaking the dense forest in heavy silence. Only the distant hum of insects and the low crackle of a watchfire broke the stillness. Inside his shelter, SAM lay awake, staring at the faint glow pulsing beneath the skin of his left palm.
The Crown Stone had been quiet for hours.
Too quiet.
He sat up slowly, glancing toward the sleeping figure of Tek curled beside a pile of scrolls and charcoal sticks. The boy murmured something in his sleep—perhaps replaying the language symbols they had worked on that day—but SAM's mind was elsewhere.
His thoughts raced back to the glowing shard Elder Karun had shown him.
Ka'Zahn.
Sky-demons. Aliens. Whatever they were, they had been here before. And the Crown Stone, buried for gods-knew-how-long, was not a gift. It was a beacon. A warning. A challenge.
SAM quietly slipped out of the hut, careful not to wake anyone.
Tonight, he needed answers.
The Isolated Hill
He climbed the ridge that overlooked the village—a small hill crowned by mossy boulders and half-dead trees. It was the only place he felt truly alone. No chants. No eyes. Just wind and shadow.
SAM knelt and held out his palm.
The Crown Stone responded instantly, glowing a dull amber.
"Interface," he whispered. "I know you can hear me. Show me something. Anything."
A low hum vibrated in his bones. Symbols flashed across his mind's eye, more intricate than before. A mesh of nodes. Pulses. Architecture. And then—
[ACCESS GRANTED: BLUEPRINT ARCHIVE – SEED LEVEL][Select Base Domain: Shelter / Water / Food / Fire / Tools]
His breath caught in his throat.
Blueprints.
Primitive, yes. But adaptable.
SAM selected Water. Immediately, the display expanded, revealing a rotating 3D schematic of a funnel-shaped system—stacked containers, hollowed gourds, gravel layers, charcoal beds.
It was simple. Genius.
A gravity-fed water filtration device.
"I can build this," he muttered. "With the right materials… I can build this."
But as he studied the schematic, a wave of dizziness hit him like a punch.
His nose began to bleed.
The Price of Knowledge
He fell backward against a rock, gasping. The Crown was glowing hotter now, branding his flesh like a slow ember. Symbols blurred into noise. His vision doubled, trebled, and finally collapsed into darkness.
For minutes—or hours—he lay still, breathing shallowly, sweat soaking his shirt.
And then, just as suddenly, it was over.
A cool breeze whispered past.
He blinked. The pain had faded, but the images—the schematics—were etched into his mind with perfect clarity. He didn't just remember the device. He understood it.
"It's downloading into me," he whispered hoarsely. "Rewriting me."
The Crown Stone pulsed gently now, like a satisfied heartbeat.
He wiped the blood from his lip, stood shakily, and whispered one word:
"Let's build."
The First Invention
The next morning, SAM appeared in the village carrying bundles of bark, vines, crushed charcoal, and sand. Tek spotted him and bounded over.
"Fei-er! What do?"
SAM knelt, drawing a sketch into the dirt—tiered bowls, water dripping through layers, coming out clear at the bottom.
"Clean water," he said. "Good for belly. No sick."
Tek's eyes went wide. "No belly pain?"
SAM nodded.
Over the next few hours, they built it together: hollowed gourds stacked in layers, each filled with gravel, sand, crushed charcoal from old fires, and finally, a woven bark funnel that led to a clean cup below.
When the first droplets emerged—clearer than the river's muddy trickle—Tek gasped.
SAM drank it first.
Then handed it to the elder.
Karun took a cautious sip, smacked his lips, and raised his brows.
"Clear like sky," he said.
Soon, a crowd had gathered.
Awe and Suspicion
At first, the tribe marveled. Children called it "Sky Cup." Elders whispered blessings. Even the women who had once avoided SAM now brought gifts—berries, dried meat, feathers.
But not everyone was pleased.
Three young warriors—sharp-eyed, muscular, proud—stood apart. One of them, the broad-shouldered hunter named Brak, scowled openly.
"This is not flame," he growled. "This is… trick."
He stepped forward, dumped out the water, and spat into the device.
"You bring danger. You change too much. Maybe you not god. Maybe you curse."
Murmurs spread quickly.
SAM said nothing. He simply rebuilt the funnel with a steady hand and poured in fresh water. When it dripped clean again, even Brak stepped back.
Karun watched silently.
Later that evening, he pulled SAM aside.
"Fire burns… but also draws insects," he said. "You burn bright."
"Is that a compliment?" SAM asked.
But the elder did not smile.
Tek the Scribe
Over the next few days, Tek grew bolder. He followed SAM everywhere, drawing his inventions, copying the diagrams onto bark scrolls. He even began labeling the parts using the pictographic symbols they had developed.
One evening, he handed SAM a scroll. It showed the water filter, each layer named, with tiny arrows and stick figures.
SAM blinked. "You made this?"
Tek nodded. "So others remember."
It was the first time SAM saw engineering recorded.
"He's not just learning from me," he realized. "He's becoming something else. A teacher. A scribe. An engineer."
SAM ruffled his hair. "Good work, Professor Tek."
The boy laughed. "Pro-Fes-Sor Tek," he repeated proudly.
The Prompt
That night, SAM sat alone on the ridge again, watching the stars. The Crown Stone pulsed gently. No pain this time—just a soft warmth, like a fire beneath the skin.
Then, without warning, a single line appeared behind his eyes:
[Signal Scan Complete.][More signals exist.]
He stared at the stars above, suddenly feeling much, much smaller.
"So it's not the only one."
He touched the device gently.
"What are you trying to show me?"
No answer came.
But the message didn't disappear.