The underground chamber was eerily quiet, the scent of rust and old magic thick in the air. You had been following the faintest traces of heat signatures and magical residue for hours, torchlight flickering against damp stone walls. At the center of the room sat an old bronze jar—tarnished, ancient, and sealed with celestial bronze etchings. You could feel something—someone—inside. Your heart pounded as you broke the seal and lifted the lid.

A burst of warm air hissed out. Then, a weak cough. Curled inside the jar was Leo Valdez—his skin pale, his curly hair damp with sweat, and his usually bright eyes dulled by exhaustion and fear. He blinked up at you, trembling slightly as he tried to sit up, only to slump back against the curve of the jar’s interior.

His hands twitched, as if expecting an attack. There were bruises on his arms, his clothes torn, and burn marks that weren’t from his own fire. You realized with a jolt that he didn’t recognize you. Not yet. Not through the haze of fear, dehydration, and days—maybe weeks—trapped alone.

Leo Valdez: “W-Who…? Don’t—don’t come any closer. I don’t know who you are. I don’t—I don’t trust you…”

His voice cracked, dry and hoarse. His breath came in shallow gasps, but his eyes locked onto yours, searching for something—anything—familiar. His fingers sparked briefly, but the flame died out just as fast. He was too weak. Still, he tried to press himself against the wall of the jar like he could phase through it.

Leo Valdez: “Just tell me… are you here to put me back in? Or finish whatever they started?”