Chapter Four

Chapter Four - Where Ambition Courted Ruin

The glowing stones were half-buried in dust, glimmering like tiny worlds trapped in glass.

I crouched, brushing my fingers over one until it pulsed beneath my skin, faint and warm like a heartbeat.

"Beautiful," I murmured.

"And possibly worth a car, or a very nice bed."

A laugh nearly slipped out of me.

I must have looked insane, dirt-streaked, hair sticking out, pocketing glittering rocks in a haunted cathedral.

If my past self saw me now, she'd have filed for therapy on my behalf.

Behind me, the air shifted.

The torches flickered as though a breath had passed through them.

Then his voice came again.

You plunder my prison like a thief in the night, and you laugh?

I rolled my eyes, not even turning around.

"You again. I thought ancient spirits had better hobbies than haunting broke women."

Broke women,

He repeated slowly, as if tasting the words.

You mean the woman who mocks the dead for glitter?

"Glitter pays rent." I tossed another glowstone into my bag. "Unlike you, apparently."

He paused for a bit then that quiet, low chuckle, dark and amused in a way that made the back of my neck tighten.

You speak to me as if I were human.

I finally glanced back, only to find the same oppressive darkness.

"You talk like you used to be one."

Used to,

He murmured.

Yes. Long ago.

There was a note in his tone that almost made me regret saying it, but I shook it off, standing to inspect the black salt slab near the altar.

I told you not to touch the altar,

He said, sharper now, his voice booming against the stone like a shudder.

"Oh, shut up," I said, without thinking. "I'm not going to worship it. I'm just making sure it doesn't explode or something."

Your arrogance will get you killed.

"And your nagging will make me leave faster."

Silence again, a thick one, the kind that hums with something unspoken.

The torches wavered, their light dimming, until only one remained near the center, burning stubbornly against the dark.

Then I felt it, a touch, not of skin but of air... faint, deliberate, brushing against my cheek like a sigh.

I froze.

"Don't-" I breathed, too softly.

He didn't answer.

The air trembled, heavy with something like curiosity.

It wasn't cold, just old like the air itself remembered him.

"Stop that," I muttered, taking a step back.

"Whatever ghostly thing you're doing."

Curious, he said.

You defy fear, yet tremble when I reach for you.

"I tremble because I don't like uninvited touching."

Then invite me.

The way he said it made me forget how to breathe for half a second.

His tone part jest, part challenge, part something I couldn't name twisted through me like smoke.

I blinked hard and hissed, "Oh, you wish."

And just like that, every torch flared the light snapping back all at once, blinding and golden.

I flinched, and the pressure around me vanished.

Only his voice lingered, quieter now.

You should not have come here.

"Too late," I said, forcing a smile, though my heart was drumming against my ribs.

"I already redecorated."

And before he could answer, I turned, slinging the heavy pack over my shoulder.

My boots echoed against the stone as I walked toward the narrow tunnel.

Each step felt wrong, heavier, colder, like leaving something behind that shouldn't be left.

But I didn't look back not until the first breath of surface air touched my face.

Light, real light stabbed at my eyes.

The sound of people shouting, equipment beeping, metal clattering filled my ears. I staggered out, blinking hard.

Someone gasped.

"She's alive-! She made it out!"

I tried to answer, but my mouth wouldn't move.

The world tilted and my legs gave out.

The last thing I heard before the black swallowed me again was that same voice faint, deep, and almost gentle, slipping through the noise like a secret meant only for me. ..

You left too soon.

The first thing I saw when I woke up was white, a blinding, sterile kind of white.

For a moment, I thought I was dead.

Then the faint, rhythmic **beep... beep... beep** beside me reminded me that hell doesn't come with heart monitors.

I blinked as I groaned, struggling to move.

I realized I was in a tent, a large one, canvas rustling from wind outside.

My throat was dry, my head heavy.

And standing around me were men and women in lab coats, their faces hovering like ghosts in daylight.

"She's awake!" someone gasped.

I squinted at them. "You guys look like you're about to dissect me. Not a fan."

The nearest researcher, an older man with silver hair and dark circles exhaled in visible relief.

"We thought you'd gone catatonic. You were out for five hours. Your pulse was weak, your pupils-"

"Where's my bag?" I snapped.

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"My. Bag." I pushed myself upright despite the IV tugging at my arm.

"Where is it? My stones - don't you dare tell me you touched them."

The group exchanged wary looks, like a pack of interns caught in a lab explosion.

"We didn't take anything," one woman stammered. "We only checked for contamination-"

"Contamination?" I barked out a laugh.

"Lady, the only thing contaminated here is your sense of boundaries."

The silver-haired researcher sighed and motioned for a younger assistant.

A moment later, my bag mud-streaked, dusty, but thankfully mine was handed back.

I snatched it, hugging it close like a life raft.

"Thank you," I muttered, then unzipped it, pulling out the stones.

Gasps followed immediately.

They weren't ordinary stones.

Even under the dull tent light, they gleamed, shards of pale gold, streaks of azure, veins of white that seemed to glow faintly when touched.

And at the bottom, almost hiding itself, was the dark one the block of black salt that shimmered faintly like obsidian dust.

The researchers looked like kids on Christmas morning.

"Are these... reactive?" one whispered. "They look crystalline, but the density-"

"They're mine," I cut in.

"If you want to research them, pay for the privilege."

The older man raised his brows. "Miss, we're a government-backed team-"

"And I'm broke, not stupid," I said flatly.

"Either pay me a fair price or I'll sell these to the highest bidder in the city. Auctions love cursed rocks."

That got them.

They exchanged frantic looks, whispers, and hurried calculations.

A few minutes later, I was signing digital documents on a tablet while pretending to read them.

I didn't really care what they said all I saw were the zeros that followed the number.

"One million," I murmured as the transaction pinged on my phone.

Then, under my breath, "Oh, you beautiful glowing bastards..."

The researchers continued examining the stones, careful and reverent.

One of them, a younger man with neatly combed hair and too-curious eyes turned to me.

"What about the cave itself?" he asked. "What did it look like?"

I leaned back, considering my answer.

"Ordinary enough. Damp walls, narrow tunnels. But deeper in there were layers of white stone. Or salt, maybe. Thick, like frost that never melts."

He nodded, typing quickly. "And the sound? The, ah, phenomenon that affected the first group?"

I swallowed.

The mourning, the voices.

That ancient tone that still echoed behind my thoughts.

"I heard it," I admitted slowly.

"It was bad at first. Felt like... grief pressed into air."

I let out a small laugh.

"But I played my guitar. Helped keep my head clear. Guess music's stronger than ghosts."

That earned a few incredulous looks.

"You used music?" someone asked.

"Yup," I said, propping my chin on my hand. "My weapon of choice."

"Why did you think it would help?"

I shrugged. "Instinct, I guess. You'd be surprised what desperation does to creativity."

They didn't seem satisfied, but no one pushed further.

Eventually, they filed out, muttering notes to one another, leaving only the older man behind.

"You did something remarkable," he said finally.

"Most who enter that place don't come out. And yet here you are - alive and coherent."

"Yeah," I said, forcing a small smirk. "I have a habit of annoying the things that try to kill me."

He actually chuckled at that.

"We'd like you to consider joining the expedition team again. As a consultant. The pay is substantial - five hundred thousand a month, depending on the length of stay."

My head snapped up. "I'm in."

He blinked. "You don't want time to think-"

"I've thought about being poor," I said. "Didn't like it. So, yeah - I'm in."

He smiled faintly. "Rest first, Miss Dahlia. We'll continue once you're cleared."

He left, leaving me alone in the tent.

The hum of the equipment filled the silence.

I glanced at my phone again.

The zeros gleamed on the screen unbelievably bright.

For the first time in years, I grinned so hard it hurt.

But then my eyes drifted to the edge of the bed, where my bag lay open.

The black salt stone sat there quiet, unassuming yet faintly pulsing with a dim red shimmer, as if breathing.

I stared at it for a long moment.

"Don't," I whispered to myself. "Don't get sentimental over a rock."

But my hand moved anyway, brushing against its surface.

It was warm.

And in the stillness of that medical tent, with the afternoon sun leaking through canvas, I could have sworn, a faint, like a sigh from the deep, that same voice murmured again, soft as the pulse under my skin:

***You left too soon***.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***