The Sigil and the Shadow

The notebook sat open on the old wooden table, its pages curled at the edges, brittle from time and damp. The writing—the frantic, uneven strokes of the English entries—stared back at Jessica, each word tightening the knot in her stomach.

"I woke up in a body that wasn’t mine. The memories come and go. Some days I am myself. Some days I am her."

Jessica exhaled slowly, her fingers ghosting over the page. It wasn’t her handwriting. But it felt like it could be.

Across the room, Olivia sat hunched over her laptop, the glow from the screen reflecting in her glasses. The translation program ran slowly, filtering through the more precise Japanese entries, line by line.

“The experiment,” she murmured, reading aloud. “Lazarus. The third stage failed. The subject retained…” She paused, her brows drawing together.

Jessica swallowed. “Retained what?”

Olivia glanced at her, then back to the screen. “Retained… self-awareness.” She frowned. “The term they’re using isn’t exact, but it suggests they expected the subject to lose identity. To become…” She hesitated. “Malleable.”

The word settled like cold steel in Jessica’s chest.

Leanna exhaled through her nose. “So this was Vanguard.”

Olivia shook her head. “No. Not entirely. This was something older.” She turned the laptop so they could see. “This entry dates back nearly seventy years. Before Vanguard was even founded.”

Jessica’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t just about Vanguard. This was about something deeper. Something that had existed long before she ever became entangled in it.

She glanced back at the notebook, fingers tightening. The writer had known. They had been through this before.

Jessica just didn’t know if they had survived it.

---

While Olivia continued working through the translations, Jessica and Leanna moved deeper into the ruins. The air was damp, thick with the scent of rot and old stone. What had once been a place of worship was now a skeleton of blackened wood and half-buried corridors, long since swallowed by time.

Jessica moved cautiously, her flashlight beam skimming over collapsed beams and forgotten alcoves. Something about the place unsettled her—not just the ruin, not just the silence. Something deeper. More visceral.

Leanna stopped ahead of her, kneeling by what had once been a storage room. The door had long since rotted away, but the stone frame remained intact. Inside, dust clung to every surface, the remnants of old wooden crates splintered and broken across the floor.

Jessica stepped inside, the air stale, undisturbed. She swept the light across the far wall—and froze. There, etched into the stone, was a symbol. Not just any symbol. The same sigil she had seen buried in Vanguard’s archives.

Her breath came slower, measured. “Leanna.”

Leanna turned, then followed her gaze. Her expression darkened. “Shit.”

Jessica took a slow step forward, the weight in her chest pressing harder. The carving was old—centuries old—but she knew it. She had seen it in Vanguard’s files, in the depths of classified documents, in the corners of reports that had been buried for a reason.

The masks weren’t just artifacts. They were part of something else. Something older.

Her head throbbed. A deep, pulsing ache. The symbol blurred in her vision—and for a moment, she wasn’t looking at stone. She saw hands, slick with ritual ink, moving through shadow. Chanting. A mask, cold and final, pressed against her skin.

Jessica inhaled sharply, her fingers brushing against the stone. The vision snapped away, leaving only the rough texture beneath her fingertips.

Leanna’s voice was cautious. “You okay?”

Jessica exhaled. “Yeah.” A lie. “Let’s get back.”

She forced herself to move, but the weight of that symbol stayed with her.

---

By the time they returned to the main room, Olivia had made more progress, but Jessica wasn’t listening. She was staring through the broken window, eyes locked on the treeline below. Because it was there again. The black car parked just beyond the edge of the forest, half-shrouded in mist, its tinted windows reflecting nothing. It hadn’t been there when they arrived.

Leanna noticed. She moved to stand beside Jessica, her hand hovering near her holster. “That the same one from Kyoto?”

Jessica nodded.

Leanna exhaled. “We need to go.”

Jessica didn’t argue.

Behind them, Olivia was still focused on the screen, lost in the words that had been buried for decades. Yuki, who had been distant for most of the evening, stood near the far wall, watching them carefully.

Jessica’s jaw tightened. Yuki was calm. Too calm.

Jessica watched her a moment longer. Not for what she said—but what she didn’t do. No hand near her weapon. No lean toward the door. Just silence. That wasn’t surprise. That was familiarity.

Leanna noticed too. She turned toward her. “You see that car?”

Yuki’s expression didn’t change. “I see it.”

Jessica studied her, searching for something beneath the surface. A flicker of recognition. Of worry. But there was nothing. Just the same measured, impassive stare.

Jessica’s distrust settled deeper in her ribs. Yuki wasn’t surprised. That meant she had expected it.

---

That night, Jessica didn’t sleep. She sat by the window, watching the car, waiting for it to move. It never did. Yuki didn’t sleep either. She sat on the other side of the room, just as still. Just as watchful. They didn’t speak, but the silence between them was louder than words.