Part 2: The Keys and the Flood

The disc pulsed beneath my feet, humming with power beyond my comprehension. I felt the presence again, the Watcher standing just beyond the veil of my awareness. I turned, but there was nothing—only the weight of its gaze, the silent knowing that it had always been there.

I had been here before. I had seen the structures before the flood. I had walked these halls when they still gleamed with purpose.

Hecate’s name flickered in my mind, the goddess who held the keys to the underworld, the crossroads, the realms unseen. She had always been tied to the hidden, to that which must be revealed in its appointed time. And the time was now.

"That which was hidden shall be revealed."

The words were not my own, but they passed through me, heavy with the weight of ancient truth.

A shift in the atmosphere. The tall beings with the handbags—they were moving now, stepping toward the disc, away from the exchange. The women in red did not protest. This was not theft. It was a cycle. A repeating event that had happened before, would happen again.

And yet, this time was different. I was here. And I was remembering.

The disc began to lift, the ground falling away below. The circular chambers, the ancient landing sites—Göbekli Tepe—became smaller, retreating into the distance. I placed a hand against the hull, my reflection staring back at me.

I saw myself as I was, but also as I had been.

A navigator.

A witness.

A keeper of the keys.

And then the Watcher spoke, not in words, but in understanding:

"Captain."

The revelation struck like lightning, illuminating the depths of my own lost knowing.

I had not been taken.

I had returned.

And this time, I would remember.