In a cloud‑forest valley sealed off by landslides, a field recorder captures chanting where no one stands. Lila Cruz, an anthropologist chasing a vanished culture, maps a burial spiral that mirrors the stars. A mercenary survey crew breaches the ridge, and the forest answers: wind chimes carved from bone, mirrors fogging with ash, masks for the dead appearing on the living.

Drone feeds glitch; compasses spin; a child guide disappears into a river leaving footprints that walk the wrong way. The curse feeds on memory—voices of loved ones call from the treeline. Ephraim wants out; Lila won’t abandon the site that once caged a hunger wearing familiar faces. Final shot: a rope bridge in storm rain, a bone flute calling, ink creeping under Lila’s skin. “If you hear your name… don’t answer.”