Chapter 6: Burned Words

The diary stopped there—mid-sentence. The last phrase, "This organ is…" was followed by two more words, but they’d been blacked out, heavy lines of ink gouged into the page as if by a desperate hand.

Every page after was ruined, the ink bleeding through like blood, smearing words into meaningless stains. It was no accident—someone didn’t want this knowledge to survive.

As I stared at those ruined pages, my skin prickled, the fine hairs on my arms standing on end. It felt like an icy wind had blown through the room, though the air was still and stale.

If what the diary said was true, then at the bottom of the sea, beneath ten thousand meters of crushing dark, lay a human organ three thousand meters tall—a grotesque monument, carved with the story of John Gable.

But why did Grant obliterate the organ’s name? What could be so horrifying about the truth? My thoughts ricocheted wildly, unable to find footing. Why was the John Gable legend engraved into flesh, hidden beneath miles of water?

The questions battered me like hurricane winds, refusing to let up. But beneath the fear, a fire sparked in my gut—a fierce need to know, to understand, to shine a light into the abyss.

It wasn’t just about Grant anymore. I needed to do this for myself. I needed to know what lay at the root of all these disappearances, all these lies.

Because Professor Grant wasn’t the first person I’d watched vanish.

Three years ago, I watched someone I loved disappear, too.

I promised myself I’d find her. No matter what it took.