There was one Giant… apart from the rest.

  ?He was neither the closest nor the most distant, yet the eye was drawn to him invariably. He stood outside the stony congregation, as if something had propelled him a step forward before leaving him there. He was taller than the others—not by a mere fraction, but with a stature that demanded recognition. His shoulders were broader, his chest deeper, and his head tilted slightly toward the heavens… not in defiance, but in expectation.

  ?His mouth was open. Not in a scream, but as if he were on the cusp of speaking.

  ?“This one…” Jadig’s voice was a mere whisper, every trace of mockery finally drained from him. “This one is not like the others.”

  ?Cillian took a few steps closer, her eyes tracing the petrified contours of the colossal form. “His posture is different. It’s as if they froze exactly where they stood. But him…” She hesitated. “It’s as if he stepped forward.”

  ?Ikida tightened his grip on his spear. “Perhaps he was their leader.”

  ?The word King went unspoken, yet it hung heavily in the air.

  ?The Giant wore a ring. A massive band encircling one of the fingers on his left hand. It was not fashioned from the valley's stone, nor from any familiar metal. Its surface was dark, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. It bore no obvious engravings, no symbols… and yet, it was anything but simple.

  ?Then—it flickered.

  ?A faint, intermittent pulse. Barely perceptible. It vanished, then returned.

  ?Amazal’s breath hitched. That flicker… he didn't know how or when, but his body recognized it before his mind did. It was the same tremor he had felt near the roots of the Odyr Tree. The same dim pulse that is felt rather than seen.

  ?He felt the pull before he even took a step. It wasn’t a thought, nor a decision; it was a slight shift in his chest, as if something within him had rearranged itself.

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  ?He stepped forward.

  ?“Where are you going?” Jadig asked immediately.

  ?Amazal didn't answer. His eyes were locked on the ring. “Do you… see it?” he finally asked.

  ?“Yes,” Cillian replied. “A ring.”

  ?He shook his head slowly. “Not that.”

  ?He took another step.

  ?“Amazal,” Ikida said firmly.

  ?He stopped. He breathed. Then he spoke, as if apologizing without knowing why: “I must get closer.”

  ?No one stopped him. But the distance was not a simple one. The petrified hand sat at a height many times his own. The cracks and protrusions in the stone body formed accidental steps. The stone here was not polished; it was coarse, holding the memory of a final moment of resistance. It was as if the path… was already there.

  ?He placed his first foot. Then the second.

  ?“Amazal—” Cillian called out, her voice laced with worry.

  ?“Don’t get closer,” Ikida cut her off. It wasn’t an order; it was a plea disguised as caution.

  ?Amazal continued the ascent. The stone was cold, but not dead. The higher he climbed, the heavier the air became. He heard nothing but his own breath… and a faint thrumming, though he couldn't tell if it came from his heart or something else.

  ?When he reached the level of the hand, he stopped. The ring was before him now. Up close, it wasn't entirely smooth. There were fine lines… like interwoven fibers.

  ?It flickered. A synchronized pulse, as if something had woken for a fleeting second.

  ?Amazal raised his hand. He hesitated for a fraction of a heartbeat. Then, he touched the ring.

  ?In that instant—the world contracted.

  ?Sound didn’t disappear; it withdrew. Then he heard it. It wasn't a spoken word, nor a sound to be heard. It was a call. Short. Fleeting. Severed from something longer.

  ?“Save us.”

  ?It didn't echo. It didn't repeat. It didn't come from any direction. It was… within him.

  ?Amazal gasped and recoiled, nearly losing his balance before gripping a stone ledge. His heart hammered violently against his ribs. He looked down from the height. No one had moved.

  ?He descended quickly, more of a slide than a climb. When his feet hit the ground, they were all staring at him.

  ?“Did you hear it?” he asked immediately.

  ?Silence followed.

  ?“Hear what?” Cillian asked cautiously.

  ?“The call.” He swallowed hard. “It said... Save us.”

  ?They looked at one another. Jadig shook his head. “We heard nothing.”

  ?Ikida looked up at the Giant… then back at Amazal. “Stay here.”

  ?He climbed. His steps were steady, calculated. He didn't rush, nor did he falter. When he reached the petrified hand, he extended two fingers and touched the ring.

  ?Nothing.

  ?No flicker. No pulse. No added silence. He waited a moment longer… then another. Then he descended.

  ?“Nothing,” he said simply.

  ?“Perhaps pressure… fear…” Vaelor suggested, searching for an explanation. But his voice lacked conviction, even to himself.

  ?Amazal slowly looked up. The ring… flickered. A dim pulse, as if it were breathing. He didn't touch it, but he saw it. And he felt—with a certainty he had never known—that the ring was not looking at the sky.

  ?It was looking… at him.

  ?He swallowed. And he felt, for the first time since his exile—that his banishment was not a punishment. It was a preparation.

  ?As he sat away from the Giant, withdrawing his hand from the ring, a faint, pulsing sensation lingered within him. Something had not fully let go, and the call of the ring was far from finished.

  ?In the deep silence of the city, that feeling would find its way back to him—revealing a secret buried beneath the earth, in the heart of the city he never knew existed. A place hidden between the columns, waiting only for him.