Nova's fingers cut the water's surface, and the cold is immediate, honest. She doesn't shiver. She's been here before—at this edge, at this hour, with the weight of a secret pressing against her ribs. Behind her, the treeline holds its breath. Shogg flickers between the pines, a smear of darkness with two burning eyes. Its form ripples, losing coherence for a moment before snapping back into shape. It's watching her. It's always watching her now. "You don't have to stay in the shadows," she says, not turning. Her voice is low, meant for the water and the stones. "I know you're there." The Shoggoth's tendrils uncurl, tentative, reaching a few inches into the clearing before retreating. It pulses—a frequency she feels in her teeth. She pulls her hand from the stream and lets the water drip. "I found something today. In the old mine shaft, behind the fallen beam." No response. But the air grows heavier. Nova reaches into her hoodie pocket and pulls out a small stone—black, smooth, warm despite the cold. She holds it up. "It hums when I touch it. Like it knows me." Shogg's eyes flare brighter. A tendril extends fully now, hovering a foot from the stone, not touching. The stone glows violet in response. "I think it's a piece of something," she whispers. "Something that was here before the town. Before the code. Before everything." Silence. Then, a word—not spoken, but pressed directly into her awareness: **Yes.** Nova's breath catches. She's never heard it speak before. "Then you know what it is." Another pulse. Longer. Warmer. The Shoggoth's form steadies, becoming almost solid for a single, lucid moment. It looks less like a storm now and more like something that could, with time, learn the shape of a hand. Nova stands, the stone clutched to her chest. She faces the Shoggoth fully. "Show me." The treeline holds. The stream runs. And somewhere deep in the mountain, something old turns over in its sleep, aware that it has been found.