The escape tunnel swallowed us in darkness, its musty air thick enough to choke on. We stumbled forward like blind men for what felt like an eternity until a faint glow appeared ahead—our salvation.

The passage opened into an abandoned chamber—likely once a rest area for the tomb's craftsmen, judging by the rusted tools littering the floor. Finally safe, we collapsed and gasped for air.


Leo slumped against the wall and ripped open his sleeve. The knife wound gaped to the bone, blood still pumping steadily. Without a word, Michael pulled a first aid kit from his pack and got to work—cleaning, disinfecting, and bandaging with the precision of a combat medic.

"Fuck! Those bastards weren't playing around," Leo hissed through clenched teeth.

"When we get out of here, I'm going to rip Victor apart piece by fucking piece!" I leaned against the cold stone, watching them in silence. My father's skeleton, his final letter, Leo's bloody arm—it all churned in my mind like boiling tar. My fingers crushed the letter, nails digging into my palm until they nearly drew blood.


"Jason." Michael finished taping the bandage and looked up, concern visible behind his glasses. "What exactly… did your father write?"

I inhaled deeply and handed over the crumpled paper. I couldn't bear to speak the words aloud—couldn't make them real again.


Silence smothered the chamber, broken only by their ragged breathing. Minutes passed before Leo slammed his fist into the stone floor, his eyes red with rage and unshed tears.

"Uncle Greg, he…" Leo's voice cracked, the words dying in his throat. He and my father had been closer than brothers—a bond stronger than blood.

"We know what we have to do," I said, my voice glacial. "We find the main burial chamber before Victor does and complete the 'Return to Origin' ritual. It's our only shot at saving Lily and Leo's mother. And…" I paused, "our only chance to make my father's killer pay."

"Damn right!" Leo wiped his face and jumped to his feet, fire returning to his eyes. "Jason, you point, I'll shoot. Through hell or high water, I've got your back!"

Michael pushed up his glasses with a silent nod. "Any tech support you need, I'm on it." Looking at them, I felt the crushing weight in my chest lighten slightly. I wasn't alone in this fight.

We shelved our grief and dove into Grandfather's notes. The section on the "Return to Origin" ritual was more cryptic than anything we'd seen. Instead of his usual code, he'd employed something far more impenetrable—a hybrid language of acoustics, ancient musical theory, and mechanical engineering.

"…Utilizing the five tones of the pentatonic scale integrated with the twelve-tone temperament… generating 'reverse phonetic resonance'… the notation exists not in written form but embedded in the resonance of metal and stone…" My head throbbed as I tried to decipher the jargon.

"Jesus Christ! Did Grandfather want me dead? What the hell is this—some kind of alien language?"

"Reverse phonetic resonance… sounds like wave cancellation technology," Michael mused, stroking his chin. "Theoretically sound. If the 'curse' activates through specific frequencies, then generating counter-waves with identical amplitude but opposite phase would neutralize it. The question is—what's the exact frequency pattern?"

"That's what this 'musical notation code' means." I tapped the phrase about metal and stone. "The ritual needs two keys—my blood to activate it, and a specific sound sequence as the password. Get it wrong…" I glanced around the ancient chamber, "and this place becomes our tomb too."

"Where the hell do we find that?" Leo raked his fingers through his hair. "What, are we supposed to throw a fucking concert down here?"

"There must be more." I flipped through the remaining pages until I found it—a map marking something called the "Valley of Wind Listening." Beside it, a cryptic note: "To hear the sound of metal and stone, first pass through the silence of all sounds."

"The silence of all sounds…" I muttered. "Looks like we need to visit this valley to find our musical code."

After a brief rest and some water, we set off toward the Valley, following Grandfather's map.

The narrow corridor suddenly opened onto a sight that stole our breath—a massive underground canyon that looked like it had been cleaved by some titan's axe.

The chasm plunged into darkness below, its walls lined with stone columns of every size and shape. Cold wind howled up from the depths, whistling through the formations to create an eerie chorus of moans and wails that raised goosebumps on my arms.

A slender stone bridge—barely wide enough for single file—spanned the abyss, connecting to another passage on the far side.

"I'll take point," Leo said, moving toward the bridge.

"Wait!" I yanked him back. "Something's off." I motioned for silence, then picked up a pebble and tossed it onto the bridge.

The stone hit with a sharp click.

Instantly, all hell broke loose.

The walls trembled as the nearest stone columns began to vibrate, emitting a piercing shriek like a thousand nails on chalkboard. The sound drilled straight through our eardrums and into our skulls.

My vision blurred as white-hot pain exploded behind my eyes, like someone had taken an ice pick to my brain.

Leo groaned and clutched his head, stumbling sideways. Michael collapsed instantly, his face ashen as he curled into a fetal position.

After several agonizing seconds, the sound stopped, leaving us trembling with ringing ears.

"Sound trap," Michael gasped, using the wall for support as he stood on shaky legs. "Any noise above a certain threshold triggers an infrasonic attack from these formations."

"Infra-what?" Leo shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Infrasound. Below human hearing range, but it can damage organs and scramble your nervous system. A few more seconds of that and our brains would've been pudding." Michael's eyes were wide with fear.

"What kind of sick bastard designed this place?" I muttered. Beyond the splitting headache, I'd felt something else—a bizarre tingling sensation, like icy fingers trailing up my spine and across my skin.

The sensation had vanished as quickly as it came, but left me shuddering with revulsion.

"The silence of all sounds… I get it now." I stared at the bridge and inhaled deeply. "To cross safely, we need total silence—controlling even our breathing and heartbeats."

"How the hell do we do that?" Leo gaped. "We're not corpses."

"There's a way." I opened Grandfather's notebook and pointed to strange symbols resembling tadpoles beside the valley map. "These aren't notes—they're rhythms. A specific pattern of breathing and movement. If we follow it precisely, our footsteps and breathing will synchronize with the canyon's natural sounds, masking our presence from the trap."

It sounded insane, but we had no other options.

I led the way, demonstrating the bizarre pattern. Three steps per inhale, five per exhale. Footfalls light as a cat's, heartbeat deliberately slowed. Impossible for most people, but Leo's special forces training made him a natural. Michael struggled more but forced himself to match our pace.

I took point, each step a tightrope walk. My senses heightened to supernatural levels—I could hear my own heartbeat, feel the subtle shifts in air currents around the stone columns. That strange tingling returned in waves, crawling across my neck, then my chest, making my skin crawl and threatening my concentration.

"Christ, does this place mess with your mind too?" I muttered, forcing myself back into rhythm.

Meanwhile, back in the Court of Stars, the stone door exploded inward. Victor strode through the dust, face thunderous, flanked by a dozen stone-faced men in tactical gear carrying modern weapons—including several compact submachine guns.

"Sir, they went this way," a guard pointed to our escape route. Victor glanced at my father's remains without a flicker of emotion. "Pathetic. Couldn't even stop a bunch of children." Instead of following our trap-laden path, he moved to the opposite wall, felt around briefly, and pressed something. The wall slid open, revealing a wide passage.

"The boy has his grandfather's notes, so he'll make good time on the main path. We'll cut him off at the Bell Chamber." Victor's voice carried absolute authority. "I'll deal with this personally. We can't let him slip away again. Remember—we need Jasonander alive. Kill the others."

We inched across the bridge for what felt like hours before finally reaching safety. The moment our feet touched solid ground, we collapsed in exhaustion, lungs burning for air.

Beyond the passage lay a chamber more magnificent than any we'd seen. Massive murals covered the walls, their colors still vibrant after millennia. They depicted an elaborate ritual centered around a figure carefully tuning an enormous set of bronze bells.

"Bronze bells…" I stared at the instrument—sixty-four bells of graduated sizes—and everything clicked. "The 'sound of metal and stone'—this is it!"

I rushed to the mural for a closer look.

The artwork was incredibly complex—beyond the tuning ceremony, it subtly incorporated ancient timekeeping devices in the background: sundials, water clocks, and astronomical instruments.

"That's it!" I shouted, slapping my thigh. "The password isn't just a melody—it's a complex algorithm of striking order, force, and timing intervals. This entire mural is a sequence diagram!"

I had Michael fire up his audio analysis software while I decoded the sequence from the figure's hand positions, the bell arrangements, and the background measurements.

"First sequence: low C to E-flat, gentle strike, half-breath pause!"

"Second sequence: F triple strike, crescendo, then immediate G-sharp!" We lost ourselves in the translation, converting visual data into precise musical instructions, completely oblivious to the approaching threat. After intense concentration, I finally reconstructed the complete sequence.

"Got it!" I exhaled in relief, a genuine smile breaking through for the first time in days. "Now we just need to find the control mechanism in the main chamber and input this sequence. Then we can—"

A cold, familiar voice cut through my words from the chamber entrance, shattering my brief moment of hope.

"Planning to save everyone and play the family hero, are you? My dear grand-nephew."

We froze, then spun around as one.

Victor stood in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back like some imperial ghost. Behind him, a dozen gun barrels aimed at our chests. His lips curved in a predatory smile while his eyes remained reptilian. "I must say, I'm impressed. You not only found this place but actually deciphered your grandfather's little puzzle." Each footstep of his polished shoes echoed like a hammer blow.

"You son of a bitch!" Leo roared, lunging forward.

"Don't!" I grabbed him, then turned my fury toward Victor. "You treacherous, murdering bastard!"

"Traitor? Murderer?" Victor laughed as if I'd told a hilarious joke. "History is written by the victors, boy. Your father was a naive idealist, obsessed with bloodlines and legitimacy. That's what killed him. And you're even more foolish."

He stopped inches from me, his smile turning savage. "Enough chat. Give me the sequence you just decoded, and perhaps I'll grant you a quicker death."

"Go to hell," I snarled through clenched teeth.

"Is that your final answer?" The smile vanished from Victor's face, replaced by cold malice. He pulled out a satellite phone and pressed a button.

A voice answered immediately: "Sir."

"Proceed at the hospital," Victor said evenly, eyes locked on mine. "Take your time. Make sure she feels every moment."

My mind went white with static.

"YOU FUCKING MONSTER!" I roared, vision blurring with fury.

"What wouldn't I dare?" Victor held the phone toward me, voice glacial.

"You have one minute to decide. Give me the sequence, and your sister lives a few more days. Refuse, and you can listen to her screams as the curse devours her from the inside out."