BAD-029
Barista: Jackie Lang
Date: Jan-15-2020
Receipt: BAD-029
Subject: Omens
We’ve hit what should be the final chamber.
The walls here are different—smoother, deliberate. Not worn by time, but carved with intent. It’s not like the rest of the Barrow, where time has worn down every edge. This place is intact. Preserved. And according to the ever-helpful 8-Ball? Dead end. The dead end.
But I don’t buy it.
Nothing about this place feels finished. The air’s too thick, the silence too aware—like the chamber itself is waiting for something. Maybe it’s a test. Maybe it’s a trick. Maybe it’s what the Corvine said—a door. Either way, we’re missing something.
The Corvine didn’t give us much in the way of answers. Just more riddles. She knew exactly why we’re here. She knew Lucy. She knew about the Mark. She knew Julia would come. But if she wanted to stop us? She would have. She didn’t. That means something, even if I don’t know what yet.
Rachel’s been quiet since the encounter. Too quiet. She’s usually the first to pick apart prophecies, to dig for angles. But this time? Nothing. She’s keeping whatever she’s thinking locked up tight. And I have a pretty good idea why.
Germany.
Something happened there. Years ago. Something with the Corvine. She won’t talk about it. Won’t even hint at it. But it matters. You don’t just meet a goddess of war and fate and walk away unchanged. Though, I suppose, she went to Germany for a lot of reasons. Many of which … are my fault. So I’m not the one to ask. Not about that. But now, standing at what should be the end of the road, I can’t shake the feeling—whatever happened back then? It’s the key to moving forward.
We’re not turning back. That much is obvious. But if this is a locked door, we need to find the key.
Fast.