Many pages were ruined, but some words survived: “can’t get up,” “wait,” “injured,” “we hear voices.” The handwriting appeared to be Julián’s.
One line froze the entire team:
“I can’t move. She must stay…”
It ended abruptly.
“Julián was hu:rt,” Morel said softly. “And Clara… she was still alive.”
But neither body was present.
Even more unsettling: someone had been counting days. Three vertical scratches repeated over and over lined the wall.
At least thirty marks.
A month trapped.
As pressure mounted, the search expanded. And then, a fresh twist emerged: a modern rope, recently placed, belonging to no one involved – neither the victims nor the rescue teams.
“Someone else was here,” Morel said, staring into the silent stone.
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