The rain came without warning.
One second, the sky was a shimmering teal—next, it was weeping silver. Not cold. Just... strange. Like the world itself was feeling something.
The AMP Squad had taken shelter under a massive stone arch, overgrown with vines and ancient glyphs. Asher tapped one.
"These again. They keep showing up everywhere."
"They're telling a story," Enzo muttered, eyes narrowed. He'd been quiet since the test. Focused. Zoned in.
While the others unpacked snacks or dried their shoes with powers they barely understood, Enzo pulled out his notebook and began sketching the symbols.
The rain slowed. The stone beneath them groaned.
Then, the arch creaked open.
A secret passage.
No one even asked if they should go in this time—they just did.
It was instinct now.
The tunnel was narrow, winding downward. The air was dry and warm, thick with the scent of dust and candle wax—though no flame burned.
At the end was a circular room carved from obsidian stone. It looked ancient. And untouched.
And in the center?
A floating journal. Wrapped in vines. Pulsing with a faint glow.
"Okay, that's definitely cursed," Blair whispered.
Enzo stepped forward.
"I think it's waiting for us."
The vines slithered back at his touch, revealing the leather cover beneath. It was cracked with age, but one name was etched in gold:
Aurelian Keitha
He opened it. Carefully. Reverently.
Inside were hand-drawn maps of a city hidden between dimensions. Diagrams of glowing trees. Notes about mirrors that spoke. And detailed sketches of teens—smiling, confident, holding power in their palms.
Each page pulsed with warmth, like it remembered being held.
"This guy... he was the founder of this place," Enzo said. "Aurelian Keitha. He wasn't just some explorer—he was a scholar. An inventor. And he built Keitha as a sanctuary for the gifted."
"Gifted like us?" Sylvia asked.
Enzo flipped a page. "Exactly like us. Look—he talks about 'The Spark.' Some ancient force that chooses people who are emotionally and mentally aligned. It bonds with them. Gives them powers."
"So it wasn't random," Athena said, brow furrowing. "This was meant to happen."
"Or planned," Zora added, her voice low.
Enzo turned to the last few pages.
The drawings changed.
The smiling faces turned grim.
Then terrified.
Then... gone.
Scrawled across the final page in hurried ink:
"They weren't ready. The power split them apart.
The Watchers grew restless. The city shifted.
I fear Keitha is... learning. Watching. Testing.
If you're reading this—
Don't trust the paradise."
Suddenly, the journal snapped shut.
A gust of wind blew through the chamber, extinguishing the light.
The floor glowed—symbols lighting up in a ripple, like something had been activated.
"Oh no," Ace said, backing up.
But Enzo just stood there, staring at the journal in his hands.
Everything felt heavier now.
The city wasn't just some magical utopia.
It had rules. Secrets. Expectations.
And maybe?
A dark side.
Back at the treehouse, Enzo spread the journal across the main table. The others crowded around him, quiet. Focused.
"What do we do now?" Athena asked.
Enzo looked up, eyes sharper than usual. "We figure out what happened to the last group. We learn the rules. And we survive whatever test is next."
Outside, thunder cracked—not from the sky, but from beneath the ground.
Keitha was listening.
And it wasn't done yet.