Two hours east.
The terrain had been opening for most of the morning—old forest thinning, highland scrub giving way to flat ground where the stone shelf broke through the soil in wide smooth surfaces. Ancient ground. Not worked, not cleared, not shaped by anything that had happened in the time humans had been in this part of the world.
Dragon Mode had been reading the structure since they started walking. Three kilometres yesterday. Two now. One. At half a kilometre the reading resolved from a general signature into specific detail: stone placements at surface level, arranged in a geometry that was not random and was not decorative, running at the same continuous low output as the stage below last night's camp.
Then they were there.
The structure was not what he had expected from Dragon Mode's architectural read.
