The air clung to her skin like warm silk, heavy with the scent of moss and incense left behind by centuries.
Yoonha adjusted the strap of her backpack and squinted up at the towers of Angkor Wat.
"Hah, no matter how many photos I've seen, they don't do this place justice," she muttered under her breath. Her words disappeared into the cicadas' endless chorus, but speaking them out loud made the surreal scene feel more real.
She was a twenty-one-year-old anthropology major with a growing pile of unfinished assignments back in Seoul. But here, surrounded by ancient stone carved with gods and demons locked in eternal stares, deadlines felt like they belonged to another lifetime.
The late afternoon sun painted everything in amber and gold. Monks in saffron robes walked across the courtyard with the kind of serenity Yoonha had only read about in textbooks. They passed her without a glance, their sandaled feet whispering against the stones.
"Right… act cool, Yoonha. Don't look like a tourist idiot even though you are one," she chided herself. Then, catching her reflection in the lens of her camera, she grinned. Her pale T-shirt clung to her with sweat, jeans dusted white by limestone. Definitely idiot tourist.
But she was alive, standing where kings had walked, where dynasties had risen and fallen, where gods had supposedly whispered secrets to mortals.
Her gaze lingered on the walls, traced with bas-reliefs so detailed she could almost hear the clash of weapons and the cries of warriors frozen in time. She crouched, fingertips brushing over the worn grooves of some half-erased Sanskrit letters.
"Imagine the stories trapped in you guys," she whispered to the stones.
Curiosity had always been her curse, or blessing, depending on the day. As a child she'd dismantled alarm clocks, spilled ink just to watch it spread across pages, asked teachers more questions than they had answers. And now, here she was—half a world away—digging into mysteries carved a thousand years before her birth.
A faint breeze stirred, carrying the earthy sweetness of wet foliage. Somewhere nearby, a guide barked instructions in English, but the sound faded as Yoonha wandered deeper into the less crowded corridor. She wasn't supposed to—but rules blurred when the lure of the unknown tugged at her.
At the far end of the passage, half-hidden behind scaffolding, she noticed a darker chamber. Its entrance was low, framed by curling vines and faint engravings glowing faintly beneath shadows.
Her eyes narrowed.
"That… wasn't glowing a second ago, right?"
She stepped closer, heart ticking faster. It wasn't radiant—not like neon—but there was a shimmer, subtle as moonlight spilling through water. Only on the specific patch of stone shaped into a spiral… or was it a serpent?
Logic told her it was an illusion. The late sun plus humidity plus dust plus her overactive imagination. That was all. She should turn around, find her tour group, buy a coconut smoothie and call it a day.
But of course, she didn't.
Well, Yoonha, worst case? You find a snake nest in there and get bitten. Best case? National Geographic hires you.
She ducked under the vines, brushing aside cobwebs. The air cooled instantly, damp and heavy. The smell of age intensified—a mix of sandalwood long faded, stone soaked in centuries of rain, something metallic beneath.
Inside, barely any light reached. Her phone's flashlight flicked on, illuminating walls that were… different. Not just art, but scripts—rows of looping characters she didn't recognize. Khmer? Sanskrit? No… older. The lines curved in patterns too fluid, almost alive.
Her beam landed on a central crest. A circle filled with intersecting lines, carved so deeply it seemed freshly cut though clearly eroded by time.
Her breath caught.
"Beautiful. But… who carved you?" she murmured.
The symbol pulsed.
For a split second, Yoonha swore she saw light move across the surface like veins flooding with molten gold. She jerked back, almost dropping her phone.
"No way… did that just—"
The ground trembled under her feet. Dust fell from the ceiling. Somewhere far above, pigeons scattered with frantic wings.
Her rational mind scrambled for explanations—earthquake, footsteps, construction. But deep down, her gut whispered .this is not nature.
The circle of lines blazed brighter, chasing away the chamber's shadows. Ancient runes across the walls lit up in synchrony, one by one, like someone igniting stars across a dark sky.
Her body shook with adrenaline. She spun toward the entrance, but the vines that had been mere plants writhed like living serpents, blocking the doorway.
"Seriously?! This is the part in horror movies where the dumb girl dies!" she shouted, even as she staggered backward toward the burning crest.
The heat reached her skin, rising, searing, yet not painful—more like being submerged in sunlight. Her vision blurred. Symbols stretched, lines twisting like rivers of fire. The tremor grew into a roar, the stones wailing as if alive.
Her last thought before the world collapsed into brilliance was a ridiculous one:
"If this is how I die, at least let it be worth extra credit."
The light swallowed her whole.