A man sprinted down a brightly lit hallway, electric bulbs humming overhead.
He reached a door and knocked rapidly. "Sir—sir!"
The door slid open. A man dressed in white stepped out, calm, composed. "Her?" he asked.
"Yes, sir… her."
The man in white studied him, unconvinced.
"The tracker pinged a few times before going silent again. We have her last known location," the man in purple said, his breath still uneven. "Should we send soldiers to confirm?"
"No…" the man in white replied after a brief pause. "Send a Ryve squad. If it's true, normal soldiers won't be able to contain her."
The man in white smiled—but it never reached his eyes.
"A full squad," he said softly.
"Yes, sir." The man in purple snapped a salute and turned on his heel, boots striking the polished floor in rapid cadence.
Elevators descended without chimes. Somewhere deep below, steel doors hissed apart.
Six figures stood in silence as the lights came up.
Matte shades of purple and gray tactical uniforms clung to them—flexible, worn, scarred. No crests. No insignia. Their movements were precise, nearly identical. Ryve.
One flexed his fingers, bones popping softly. Another adjusted the weight of a blade at her hip.
No words were spoken. None were needed.
They already had their orders.
They were ready.
***
Beads of sweat clung to his skin as he tossed in his sleep, voices of the long-dead whispering through his mind.
Faelan's eyes snapped open.
The moon still hung over the jungle, pale light spilling through the canopy. The ground beneath him held a fading warmth—the remains of a fire long extinguished.
"A nightmare…?" he muttered. That didn't usually happen on the road.
He tilted his head.
Ria sat a short distance away, staring up at the night sky. Something about her felt… off. Ever since their encounter with Rakreim, she hadn't been the same.
"Can't sleep?" she asked, her voice low as she glanced over her shoulder.
"It was just a nightmare," he said, brushing it off. "What about you?"
He moved over and sat beside her.
"It won't be long before sunrise," he added. "You should get some sleep."
"Don't worry about it. I'm fine."
A pause. Her gaze drifted from his face to his knuckles. "Does it hurt?"
"No… it just feels different," he said, flexing his hand, fingers closing slowly around empty air.
A rustle broke through the quiet.
Ria was already moving—coiled, ready to pounce—before anything emerged.
"Relax," Faelan said, steady. "It's just a quiler."
The small creature slipped from the bushes—wide ears twitching, gray fur catching the moonlight, blue beady eyes alert. Its long purple tail flicked once.
The moment it saw Ria, it bolted in the opposite direction.
She exhaled and sat down. "So… where are we going next?"
"The carvings were petroglyphs, points to a valley" Faelan said. "If I'm right, we should be heading towards it real."
"Should be?" she asked.
He gestured faintly. "The stream flows that way. The trees are thicker… the ground's more moist. We might reach it by tomorrow."
A pause. "Hopefully that's my last stop."
"What happens after you deliver the package?"
"I head home. Dorvel." He let out a quiet breath. "Lior's probably going to yell at me. Kalen and the others might've already formed a search party."
"Sounds fun," she muttered.
"Fun?" He glanced at her, confused. A search party didn't sound fun to him.
"What about you? Where are you going?" Faelan asked.
"I don't know." She stretched out, settling onto her back. "I don't really have anywhere to be. Just drifting is enough."
A small pause.
"In fact… it's all I need."
"I hear you. The open road has its charms," he said, a yawn slipping through. "I'm going back to sleep. Early start tomorrow."
Faelan lay back, turning away as his eyes slowly closed.
Ria didn't move.
She remained where she was, staring up at the night sky—wide awake, as if sleep wasn't something she needed.
***
The sun filtered through the canopy as they moved between the trees, drawing closer to the edge. The sound of a waterfall grew louder with each step.
"Seems like we're close," Faelan remarked.
He was right.
Moments later, they broke through the treeline and stepped into the open. A vast lake stretched before them, fed by a massive waterfall crashing down from above.
Sunlight caught the falling water, turning it into a shimmering veil. Cool, humid air drifted across their skin.
At the lake's edge, a few doels drank quietly. They barely reacted to Faelan and Ria's presence.
They walked along the bank, searching for any signs or direction, when Faelan felt it—a faint hum from the parcel.
He stopped, holding it in both hands. The vibration shifted… pulling slightly in one direction.
"What's that?" Ria asked, puzzled.
Faelan didn't answer. He followed the pull, step by step, until he reached the water's edge.
"I don't know. There's nothing out—"
The ground rumbled.
Cracks split through the earth as a hidden hatch groaned open behind them.
Faelan turned. Stairs descended into darkness, bent and worn with age.
He stepped inside.
The air changed immediately—cooler, heavier. The steps were slick, coated in algae that gleamed like glass. One hand clutched the parcel; the other traced the metal rail for balance.
Ria followed close behind, careful with each step. Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, tapping against her cloak.
"Are we…?"
"Under the lake," Faelan said before she could finish.
The rails led them into a cavernous chamber. Faint blue light bled from crystalline structures embedded in the walls. The hum from the parcel grew louder.
Ria tilted her head. "It's… beautiful. And creepy."
Faelan nodded, scanning the room. Metal panels lined the walls, some flickering with faint, indecipherable readouts. At the far end stood a circular door, its surface etched with intricate patterns, pulsing faintly.
"This… this has to be it," Faelan said, gripping the package tighter.
Ria glanced around. "And nothing's going to jump out and—"
A low, mechanical groan cut through the chamber. The crystalline light dimmed, leaving them in an uneasy glow.
The door opened.
A tall woman stepped through. Brown hair. Gray eyes. A long white coat streaked with purple.
Her gaze snapped to the satchel at Faelan's side—sharp, assessing.
"A messenger?" she asked. "Who sent you?"
"Harzia's mayor," Faelan replied. "I was told to deliver this."
"Get in."
She turned without waiting.
They followed.
The corridor swallowed them whole—narrow, metallic, the walls slick with faint condensation. Veins of light ran along the floor like trapped lightning.
Behind them, the door sealed with a final hiss. Faelan felt it in his chest.
The woman walked ahead, never slowing. "You'll leave the package here."
Her eyes flicked back—just for a moment—toward Ria.
Ria noticed.
"Your job is done."
They entered a wider chamber. Glass panels lined the walls, machines humming softly behind them—purposeful, patient.
The woman stopped at a waist-high pedestal. "Place it there."
Faelan hesitated—only a second—then set the package down.
The moment it touched the surface, the room reacted.
A low resonance pulsed through the air. Subtle. Unmistakable.
Ria tilted her head.
The woman turned slowly. "You," she said to Ria, voice carefully neutral. "Where are you from?"
Ria shrugged. "Somewhere. I think."
Silence stretched. Machines clicked. Lights recalibrated.
The woman exhaled through her nose. "You two will be sent out—far from this place."
She stepped closer to Faelan, voice lowering. "Forget this location. Forget the door. Forget whatever you saw."
Her eyes flicked to Ria one last time—something unsettled in them now.
"You were never here."
Ria grinned. "Sure."
The woman didn't.
The door behind them opened.
A forest path lay beyond—unfamiliar. Sunlight spilled across it like nothing had happened.
They stepped through.
The entrance sealed behind them, metal folding into stone, moss creeping over it until it was gone.
Faelan let out a slow breath. "Well… that was unsettling."
Ria stretched, hands behind her head. "Yeah. But kind of interesting."
Faelan glanced at her, then toward the path ahead.
Somewhere north… a town.
The woman stood with a group of figures clad in white, gathered around the opened package.
"A mutran keystone… it's genuine," one of them said, leaning in.
"From Dorvel, right?" another added. "That's a long way from here. How did they even—"
"It doesn't matter," the woman cut in.
Silence fell.
"We'll do what we've always done. Analyze it. Log it. Replicate it."
She glanced at them, expression flat.
"We're paid to think," she said, "not ask pointless questions."