Meanwhile, Amelia and her grandfather, Persius Nades, boarded the first flight out of Lanura, arriving in Isla just as dawn broke across the horizon.
The island greeted them in a hush of gold and green. Dew clung stubbornly to every leaf and blade of grass, catching the early sunlight and scattering it into a thousand glittering fragments—like diamonds strewn carelessly across the waking earth. The air was crisp, tinged with the scent of earth and something older… something buried.
They were escorted to the southern region of the island, where the royal mausoleum stood—silent, immense, and heavy with history.
The excavation and clearing of the site were nearly complete. What remained was the careful work: recording, documenting, preserving. Soon, this long-sealed place would be unveiled to select visitors from across the world.
But for now, it still belonged to the past.
"Amy, what are you doing here?"
