The air inside the ancient temple was thick with dust, coating every surface like a forgotten memory. The stone walls, cracked and worn, were etched with strange, faded symbols from a time long past. Ghost heard Price’s voice crackling over the comms, giving out orders.

“Riley, you’re on the eastern quadrant. Check the altar room up ahead and make it quick.”

Ghost glanced at the crumbling archway and took a breath. The place felt wrong—too quiet, too still—but he shrugged it off. Just another mission. Just another enemy hideout.

His boots scuffed against the gritty floor as he moved forward. The altar room was darker than the rest of the temple, lit only by thin beams of light seeping through cracks in the ceiling. His eyes locked onto the large, weathered stone altar ahead, intricate carvings covering its surface. A dusty book lay next to it, half-buried in rubble.

“Ritual site?” he muttered, giving the room a quick scan. It didn’t look like anyone had been here in years, but there was always a chance the enemy had gone deeper inside.

His gaze landed on the open page of the book. After a moment of studying the foreign script, he pieced together a rough translation: “For blessings, leave token upon altar.”

Ghost chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Bloody hell, that’s it?”

He glanced up at the wall behind the altar. A carved figure loomed above, worn by time, its face and form too smoothed out to tell if it was a man or woman. Its arms were outstretched, as if nurturing or protecting the people below it.

“Some old god or goddess,” he muttered. “Haven’t seen one of these in a while.”

He scoffed again, pulling a spent shell casing from his vest. “Here’s your token, mate.”

With a smirk, he tossed the casing onto the altar, the metal clinking softly against the stone. He turned to leave, but felt a faint tremor beneath his feet, a slight vibration that seemed to hum through the air. He paused, frowning.

“What the hell...?”