Panic surged through Luna all at once.

  “Then what is all of this?” she demanded, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “Why build a village down there? Why trap it? Why seal people inside it and then run?”

  She gestured back toward the collapsed wall, toward stone and shadow and bones.

  “This whole thing makes no sense.”

  For the first time, her certainty cracked. Not fear. Confusion. The kind that came when too many pieces refused to fit.

  Reid exhaled slowly as she moved her palm to another corner.

  More faint lines surfaced. A rough drawing, easy to miss if you didn’t know to look for it.

  A cluster of low marks clung to the slope, forming a village.

  Above it, the mountain rose in slanted lines. Higher up, an isolated mass of stone sat apart from the cliff face, with a chamber drawn at its center.

  A small bridge was sketched between the mountain and the island, a single line crossing the space between them.

  The picture was clear now.

  “They didn’t flee down,” Reid said. “They withdrew up.”

  Bridget leaned closer, eyes sharpening. Francis went very still.

  “The village was a shell,” Reid continued. “A delay. A filter. Something to bleed intruders and buy time.” Her finger tapped the chamber drawing. “This must be where they keep the relics.”

  Luna stared at the scroll.

  “The scroll mentioned escape. So maybe they already planned to abandon the village,” she said softly.

  “They planned to survive,” Reid replied. “There’s a difference.”

  Luna’s chest tightened. “What about those villagers who moved lower?”

  Reid’s gaze lingered on the drawing for a moment longer.

  “That’s another puzzle,” she said at last. Then she rolled the brittle scroll back up with deliberate care and tucked it under her arm. Her eyes lifted to the slope ahead. “And it’s not the one that kills us today. Mission first.”

  No one argued.

  They moved uphill in a loose line, the forest tightening as the slope steepened. Roots surfaced more often here. Stones bit through the soil. The air thinned just enough to make Luna notice her breathing.

  She adjusted her grip on her spear. “How do you know where to go exactly?”

  Trey didn’t slow. “You try looking close enough, rookie. There’s always signs.”

  “Signs of what?”

  Reid answered before he could. “Use.”

  She stepped ahead, eyes tracking the ground and the trees. “If they built a chamber up there, they would have to walk this route often. Which means there has to be—”

  She pushed a curtain of branches aside.

  “A path.”

  It wasn’t obvious. Not a road. Just earth worn a little smoother. Moss scraped thin from stone. Branches bent aside and never fully springing back.

  They followed it.

  Luna’s unease sharpened with every step. “And what if those people are still there?” she asked. “Wouldn’t they kill us on sight?”

  Trey opened his mouth. “That’s the risk we’re—”

  “I’m not willing to take that risk,” Luna cut in, voice low.

  Francis nodded once. “Me neither.”

  Trey sighed. “I was saying that for dramatic effect.”

  He glanced ahead, then back at them, his tone lighter but steady underneath. “We’ll definitely check. If it’s abandoned, we take the relics and go.”

  “And if it isn’t?” Luna pressed.

  “Then the payer doesn’t have a claim,” Trey said. “Not yet.” He shrugged. “And I think, for all his mysterious little habits, he’d accept that.”

  They kept climbing.

  The path narrowed as it rose, winding between trees that grew shorter and more stubborn the higher they went. Roots broke the surface like knuckles. Loose stone slid underfoot. Conversation came in pieces—short, practical, occasionally sharp.

  Trey complained about the incline.

  Bridget told him the incline didn’t care.

  Reid told him to save his breath.

  The forest thinned as the light shifted. The sun hadn’t begun to sink yet, but it had lost its bite. Gold softened into pale amber, shadows stretching longer across the slope.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Trey glanced back. “If I collapse up here, tell history this was not my idea.”

  Bridget didn’t look up. “This was entirely your idea.”

  “Cruel.”

  They crested a rise and the land opened ahead of them.

  The island came into view.

  An isolated mass of stone jutted out from the cliff face, suspended across open air. A narrow bridge stretched between mountain and island, old stone spanning a sheer drop with no ornament, no railing. Just function.

  They slowed without meaning to.

  Francis’s gaze lingered on the bridge. On the stone near both bases. Something flickered at the edge of his senses. Faint. Old. Quanta residue, thin as an echo.

  He frowned slightly.

  Bridget was already moving again, slow and methodical, eyes tracking seams in the rock, the bridge supports, and the approach to the island.

  “No traps,” she said. Almost disappointed.

  They crossed the bridge one at a time.

  On the island side, the ground changed. Grass gave way to packed earth and pale lichen clinging to exposed roots. The climb toward the chamber was careful. Deliberate.

  And quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Bridget slowed near the chamber’s base, head tilting as if listening. Whatever she was measuring, it wasn’t visible—but her expression tightened.

  “I don’t think anyone lives here anymore.”

  They turned to her.

  “If they did,” Bridget continued, “there’d be something. Pressure points. Failures built into the path. After what they did to the village?” A small shake of her head. “They wouldn’t leave this clean.”

  Trey nodded. “She’s right.” He glanced back along the path. “Too much wildlife, too. Nobody’s been living here.”

  Bridget’s gaze settled on the chamber doors.

  “And I don’t think the relics are still inside either.”

  “Only one way to be sure.” Reid added.

  They stood there for a moment longer, breathing in the cold air, bracing for anything that might come.

  Then Bridget stepped forward.

  The stone chamber stood alone at the edge of the cliff, where the earth ended without warning. Packed soil held together by roots and old intent, the cliff face sheer and raw beneath it. Up close, it felt less like a building and more like a boundary—something placed to mark a decision rather than house a life.

  The Skaravel insignia loomed above the arch, its carved raven worn at the edges but unmistakably alert, wings spread in rigid lines that refused softness, a triangular mountain carved behind it.

  The door beneath it looked solid. Centered. Inviting.

  Bridget slowed.

  She studied it for a moment longer than necessary. Ran her fingers along the seam where stone met stone. Pressed her palm flat against the surface and listened only to find nothing.

  She tried the obvious places anyway. Tested the handle. Leaned her shoulder into it just enough to feel resistance. Knocked once, knuckles rapping sharply against the stone.

  The sound came back solid.

  Not hollow. Not layered.

  She exhaled through her nose. Loud.

  “Bastards,” she said. “It’s a false entrance.”

  Reid’s jaw tightened, temple visibly throbbing. “They’re really testing my patience right now.”

  Trey tilted his head. “Want me to check the back?”

  “No. I’ll lead.” Bridget was already moving. “If they planted something ugly, I want to be the first to hear it complain.”

  She circled the structure, boots careful on the packed earth as the others followed, the cliff pressing close at their backs. The wind tugged at cloaks and loose fabric, reminding them how little space there was for error.

  There, next to a stone pedestal, was the real entrance.

  Narrower. Unmarked. Set into the rear of the structure, facing open air instead of land.

  Reid exhaled softly. “Figures.”

  Bridget knelt, tracing the seam with two fingers, then shifted her grip, pressing at a subtle, unnatural angle.

  Something gave.

  A soft click answered her touch.

  The door eased inward just enough to admit light.

  They gathered close without thinking. Bridget lifted her lantern and struck it alight.

  Warm light spilled across the threshold, revealing smooth stone floors and a chamber that swallowed the glow without reflection. The air inside felt still—old, but not stagnant.

  “Don’t follow yet,” Bridget said. “I’ll check.”

  “Define check,” Trey said.

  Bridget didn’t look back. “If you hear screaming, panic.”

  “That’s not helpful,” Luna said.

  Bridget smiled faintly and slipped inside.

  They waited.

  Lantern light bobbed deeper within the chamber, its glow shrinking as Bridget moved farther in. Her footsteps echoed softly, measured and unhurried.

  Wind sighed past the open doorway.

  Trey cleared his throat. “So. On a scale of one to doomed?”

  “Don’t,” Francis said.

  Reid didn’t look at him. “If she doesn’t come back, I’ll remember you suggested this job.”

  “Unfair.” Trey sighed. “I’m counting to ten. If she’s not out yet, I’m gonna—”

  Inside, the lantern paused.

  Bridget’s voice echoed back to them, calm and mildly surprised. “Huh.”

  Luna leaned forward. “What?”

  Bridget called. “The relics are still here, at the far end, somehow.”

  Relief rippled through the group, quick and fragile.

  “So you’re saying—” Trey began.

  “I’m saying you don’t need to come in,” Bridget replied. “I’m just going to grab them and be right out.”

  Francis exhaled quietly. Reid loosened her stance by a fraction.

  But before anyone could say anything—

  The ground shuddered.

  Not violently. Just enough.

  A low vibration passed through the earth beneath their boots, like something deep below had shifted its weight.

  Francis stumbled as the dirt shifted underfoot, boots sliding as roots loosened their hold. He barely had time to turn before the ground slid out from under him.

  Trey moved without thinking.

  He caught Francis by the collar and shoved him backward hard, sending him sprawling onto firmer ground.

  “Don’t fall,” Trey said breathlessly, already turning back with a crooked smirk. “That’d be embarrass—”

  Trey’s heel landed where the soil had already started to separate.

  There was no warning.

  No crack.

  No sound at all.

  The ground beneath him gave way.

  Dirt tore loose, roots ripping free as the cliff edge sheared cleanly away.

  Trey dropped out of sight.

  One heartbeat he was there,

  and the next, he wasn’t.

  “TREY!” Francis screamed, lunging forward—

  only to be yanked back hard as Reid wrapped both arms around his chest, locking him in place as the edge crumbled again.

  “No!” she snarled.

  “I—”

  He didn’t finish.

  Luna was already moving.

  “LUNA!”

  She sprinted—

  and dove off the cliff.