The world stopped moving.
Just for a breath.
The boy lay on the dead soil, back soaked in cold sweat, chest rising slowly.
The cracked version of him—gone.
But not defeated.
Only… scattered.
Pieces still clung to the fog like ash that refused to fall.
His eye dimmed.
The sigil faded.
And with it, the temporary silence.
Then—footsteps.
Soft.
Measured.
He sat up.
His legs shook.
But he forced himself to rise.
The fog parted.
Not from chakra.
From will.
A new figure stood ahead.
Cloaked in black.
No face.
Just a hood.
No chakra signature.
No presence at all.
Yet it was more real than the ground beneath his feet.
The boy didn't speak.
His instincts screamed.
Run.
But something in his chest kept him rooted.
The figure tilted its head.
Then raised a hand.
Not in threat.
In invitation.
Behind it, the mist pulled apart.
Revealing… a door.
Old.Wooden.Cracked.Covered in seals.Each one glowing faintly red.
The boy took a step forward.
Then another.
Each step grew heavier.
Not his legs.
His soul.
The door pulled at him.
Hungry.
The cloaked figure lowered its hand.
And whispered—
"Behind this lies the truth."
The boy's breath caught.
"What truth?"
No answer.
Just the seals pulsing.
Faster.
He reached for the handle.
It burned.
Not hot.
Just… wrong.
His skin screamed without injury.
Still, he gripped it.
Tight.
Then the seals shifted.
They reacted to something in him.
To the eye.
The handle clicked.
The door creaked open.
Darkness beyond.
But not empty.
A hum.
Low.
Like a chant trapped in stone.
The boy stepped in.
The door shut behind him.
He fell.
Weightless.
Again.
This time, not into nothing.
Into memories.
Not his.
Flashes.Burning villages.Eyes bleeding black.The moon weeping light.
A woman screaming.A child floating above a coffin.Hands covered in eyes—reaching through the veil.
Then—
Stillness.
He stood in a room.
Stone walls.
Circular.
Pillars lined with chains.
Each chain held a mask.
Old. Faded. Cracked.
Each mask had a different eye.
All staring at him.
His heart raced.
He turned.
There, in the center—
A throne.
Empty.
But the stone beneath it was carved.
A sigil.
Identical to the one that appeared in his eye.
He stepped forward.
The eyes in the masks followed.
But none moved.
None attacked.
The boy knelt and touched the symbol.
Cold.
Then—
A voice.
His own.
But older.
Deeper.
More tired.
"This was your doing."
He turned.
A mirror stood behind him.
But it didn't show him.
It showed a version of him years ahead.
Older.
Scarred.
Eyes hollow.
Same eye.
Same dojutsu.
But mastered.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The reflection smiled.
"The one you'll become… if you survive."
A pause.
Then the older version leaned forward, face darkening.
"But the eye doesn't want you. Not yet. It remembers the first."
The first?
"The original bearer. The one who saw the real moon."
The boy froze.
"Is he alive?"
The reflection's smile faded.
"No. But not dead either."
The masks began to rattle.
Chains groaned.
Stone cracked.
The throne pulsed with light.
The reflection leaned back and whispered—
"Find the Grave of the Eyes. Before they do."
The boy stepped back.
The stone beneath him gave way.
The masks screamed.
And he fell again.
He woke up.
Back in the cave.
The girl was gone.
But carved into the wall—
A symbol.
The same one from the throne.
Freshly etched.
Still bleeding.
And below it—
Words.
In her handwriting.
"I saw it too. I'm going ahead."
His eye began to spin again.
Faster.
Unstable.
The moon inside it trembled.
And he whispered the words he didn't understand.
Words the eye forced him to know—
"Grave of the Eyes."
To be continued.