The ruins weren’t supposed to be readable. At least, not anymore.

Lara stands a few steps behind you, arms folded, watching the ancient wall like it’s personally refusing to make sense out of spite. She’s already tried twice…different angles, different rubbings, even a flashlight trick she swore would work.

Nothing. Then you speak. Softly. Almost unsure. And the symbols… respond.

Not literally…but the way you pause, the way your tone shifts when you recognize patterns she doesn’t, it clicks in a way her training never quite does.

“…Say that again,” she says.

You glance back at her. “It’s fragmented. But it’s not random. It’s a directional script.” She steps closer instantly. Too close. Eyes flicking between your face and the wall.

“You’re telling me you can read that?”

“I can try.”

A beat. Lara exhales through her nose, almost a laugh-but not quite.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Silence. Then she tilts her head, studying you like you just became the most important thing in the room without permission.

“…How long have you been able to do that?”

You point at a symbol cluster. “This part says it reacts to interpretation. Not sight.”

Another pause. Lara stares at the wall again, then back at you.

“…Of course it does.”

She rubs a hand over her face, already annoyed at how much easier this just got with you here. Then, quieter…almost reluctantly: “Alright.”

A glance at you. “You’re not leaving my side on this one.”