They passed through the outer perimeter of the excavation.

  The forest had retreated here. Stumps dotted the slope where trees had been felled to make room for the camp, their rings still wet with sap. A few pines clung to the edge, their shadows long and thin across ground that had once belonged to them.

  Beyond the tree line, the hillside had been transformed.

  The ruins rose from a green valley cradled between low hills. Tall fragments of ancient towers jutted above the excavation, weathered stone monoliths standing in stark contrast to the sharp sounds of labor below.

  Scaffolding climbed in jagged tiers against the slope, canvas tarps snapping in the wind. Rope ladders swayed between platforms where pale sediment had been peeled away, revealing darker, older stone beneath.

  Selene slowed.

  Her eyes moved over everything at once: the lattice of timber and rope, the glint of metal tools catching sunlight, the way shadows pooled differently where the ruins began. She had studied every diagram back in the Athenaeum archives but this was her first time seeing it.

  There were other sites scattered across the valley, smaller excavations students could visit with permission. But this was the main site. The heart of it.

  The sight made her chest tighten with a feeling she had no name for.

  It wasn’t awe, exactly. It was recognition, as though something in her had been waiting to arrive here.

  Voices carried across the slope, researchers calling out coordinates. Porters hauled crates between tents, faces streaked with dust and sweat. Alchemists crouched near the largest scaffold, lifting glass vials and stone shards to catch the light. Engineers clustered around pinned diagrams, debating in low, animated bursts as they gestured at inked lines and measurements.

  And threading through it all were the Baron's soldiers.

  They moved in pairs. A few leaned on spears near the supply tents, watching the work with dull eyes. Others walked the perimeter in slow loops, boots crunching over gravel. One stood near the alchemists’ table, arms crossed, murmuring something low. The researcher didn’t look up.

  For Selene, it should have felt wrong. Rough men with no formal education standing among the Academy’s finest. But it didn’t. It felt real.

  This was the dream, wasn’t it? Not knowledge locked away in libraries, but work. Discovery. Validation. Every student at the Grand Athenaeum dreamed of standing here, hands in the dirt, mind grappling with puzzles no one else could crack.

  Selene’s gaze swept over it all, drinking in every detail.

  She wanted to remember this moment exactly as it was.

  They approached a cluster of larger tents near the center of the camp. One rose taller than the rest, its canvas walls marked with the same seal Eldric had shown at the old stone gate. A hitching post had been driven into the ground outside, iron rings bolted along its length.

  Eldric led Solva toward it, his steps measured, the gait of a man whose knees no longer bent as easily as they once had. He looped her reins through one of the iron rings, murmuring low as his hand slid along her neck. The mare huffed, ears flicking toward the distant clatter of tools, then settled beneath his touch.

  Garen arrived a few paces behind, shoulders sagging under the weight of the packs. Sweat poured from him. He dropped the bags, breathing hard, and pressed a hand to the small of his back.

  He slipped Selene’s satchel from his shoulder and held it out to her. His weathered face softened for just a moment into something almost kind. She took it with a quiet, “Thank you,” and he gave a small nod before straightening.

  Eldric turned toward him and reached into his coat, withdrawing a small leather pouch. He pressed it into Garen’s hand. “Job well done. Thank you.”

  Garen’s fingers closed around it. “Appreciate it, Professor.”

  “Come inside for a moment,” Eldric said, gesturing toward the tent. “There’s water. You’ve earned it.”

  Before Garen could answer, footsteps approached rapidly from the direction of the scaffolding.

  “You—porter!”

  A younger man strode toward them, sleeves rolled to the elbows, a ledger tucked under one arm. His hands were ink-stained, his eyes bright with an enthusiasm that had not yet learned exhaustion. “You done here? Good. I need help getting these samples back to town. Can’t wait to get them catalogued—this could rewrite half of what we know about pre-Veil metallurgy.”

  He gestured sharply toward a stack of crates near one of the tents. "Let's go. Daylight's burning."

  Garen straightened, his expression carefully neutral. “It’s just the way thin—”

  “He’s just arrived,” Eldric interjected quickly, his voice calm but edged with firmness. His expression hardened. “Let the man rest.”

  The engineer finally looked at Eldric, as if noticing him for the first time. His enthusiasm did not dim. If anything, it sharpened. “Professor, with respect, porters rest when the work’s done. If he’s finished with you, he can help me. The samples won’t carry themselves.”

  Eldric’s knuckles whitened around the strap of his satchel. He breathed slowly through his nose, each exhale deliberate, as though measuring his words before allowing them free.

  But Garen raised a hand.

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  “It’s all right, Professor.” His tone was flat, resigned. He glanced at Eldric, and something quiet passed between them, not anger but tired acceptance. “It’s just the way things are.”

  He bent to pick up one of the crates, his muscles coiling beneath the skin as the weight pressed down on shoulders already worn raw.

  The engineer was already walking away, calling back over his shoulder. “Sector Two. Let’s move.”

  Garen followed without another word.

  Selene watched him go. A bitter taste rose in her throat. She wanted to say something, to call after him, but the moment had already passed.

  Eldric said nothing, his expression closing into something cold and unreadable.

  He adjusted the strap of his satchel and glanced at Selene.

  “Come,” he said quietly. “Let’s find Corvan.”

  They turned toward the heart of the excavation, where the scaffolding climbed highest and the air hummed with purpose.

  Eldric scanned the bustling excavation site as he and Selene moved through the throng of scholars and laborers. The air carried the scent of earth and damp timber, cut by the sharp tang of something hot on a nearby cookfire. Tools clattered steadily across the site, voices rising in the organized chaos of discovery.

  As they crested the low rise, the full expanse of the site opened before them. At its center stood the Grand Entrance, an enormous rectangular void carved into the earth, its descent reinforced by a lattice of timber, winches, and rope ladders spiraling down into darkness.

  Around the monumental entry, tents formed a tight horseshoe, creating a hub of activity. To the west, scribes cataloged artifacts, their tables cluttered with parchment and ink pots. To the east, gears and pulleys whirred as crates and heavy stones were moved into place, while tendrils of cookfire smoke drifted lazily into the pale sky.

  Eldric’s attention was drawn to a figure at the center of it all, Corvan, the head of research. He stood at the edge of the Grand Entrance, dark hair disheveled, his deep brown and soft white robes. A glass sphere at his belt swung as he gestured sharply toward the workers below, barking orders into the shadows.

  "I see you're as loud as ever!" Eldric called out, a knowing smile quirking his lips.

  At the sound of Eldric’s voice, Corvan turned. His expression shifted, and he managed a thin smile that did not reach his eyes. Without a word, he gestured toward a nearby tent where a women sat meticulously writing in her ledger, her silver-gray coat gleaming even in the shadows. Then he motioned for Eldric to follow.

  Eldric started toward the tent, his attention already shifting to the conversation ahead.

  Selene lingered at the edge of the rise, her gaze fixed on the Grand Entrance below. The sheer scale of it stole her breath, a yawning mouth of stone and timber descending into darkness, rope ladders swaying gently in the wind, voices echoing up from depths she could not see. All the diagrams and sketches in the Academy archives had failed to prepare her for this.

  She stared deeper into the opening, and for a moment the wind seemed to shift. A chill crept up her neck, raising the fine hairs at the base of her skull. Her honey-gold hair lifted slightly in the breeze. She tilted her head, gray-green eyes narrowing as she listened, her expression caught between curiosity and something she could not yet name.

  The noise of the camp faded. Hammers, voices, the creak of winches. All of it pulled back like a retreating tide.

  There it was, faint but unmistakable. A sound rising from below. Not words. Not a voice she recognized. But something that called to her all the same, formless and insistent, like a whisper caught between breaths, yearning for her. Her heart beat faster for a moment, sharp and sudden in her chest.

  Then it was gone.

  “Selene.”

  Eldric’s voice cut through the moment. She blinked as the sounds of the camp rushed back all at once. She turned to find him already several paces ahead, following Corvan toward the tent. He glanced back at her, one brow raised in silent question.

  She shook off the lingering chill and hurried to catch up.

  Inside the tent, the air was cooler, insulated from the noise outside by thick canvas walls. A long table dominated the center, its surface covered with maps, charts, and carved stone fragments arranged in careful rows. Oil lamps hung from the support beams, casting steady pools of light across the workspace.

  The woman sat at the far end, her coat pristine despite the dust that coated everything else. She worked with methodical precision, her pen moving across the ledger in smooth, even strokes as she catalogued each fragment by dimensions, location, and estimated age. She glanced up as they entered, offering a brief nod of acknowledgment before returning to her work.

  Corvan stood near the table, one hand braced against its edge, the other pressed to his temple. The glass sphere at his belt had stopped swinging. His shoulders were tense, drawn up as though carrying a weight too heavy to set down.

  “Fifty years,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Fifty years since the last major discovery at a site like this. Do you have any idea what that means?”

  Eldric stepped closer, his expression calm. “It means you’re working under considerable pressure.”

  “Considerable?” Corvan let out a sharp breath that might have been a laugh. “The Athenaeum breathing down my neck. Everyone expects something.” He gestured toward the table, his hand sweeping across its surface. “And this is what we have. Fragments. Scraps.”

  “Progress is still progress, Corvan,” the woman at the far end said, her voice cutting through his frustration with quiet certainty. She did not look up from her ledger. “Every piece tells us something.”

  He did not answer, but some of the tightness left his posture.

  Corvan turned back to Eldric, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Your brother was here. Aldric. Came by asking to see the latest things we’d uncovered.”

  Eldric’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly. His hand tightened on the strap of his satchel. “And?”

  “I refused.” Corvan gestured vaguely toward the table. “Made some excuse about cataloguing protocols. Preservation concerns.” His gaze dropped to the scattered fragments. “We don’t have anything to show.”

  Selene stepped into the tent.

  Corvan noticed her then, his brow furrowing. “Selene?”

  She smiled and raised one hand in a small wave, though concern flickered in her gray-green eyes.

  Corvan glanced between her and Eldric. “What is she doing here? The Athenaeum won’t like this, especially given your position.”

  “Don’t worry about my position,” Eldric said. “I resigned from the Circle.”

  Corvan’s eyes widened. “You… what? You really—”

  The question died on his lips. He blinked, then shook his head as though pulling himself back to the present. His hand pressed against the table again, steadying himself.

  Eldric waited, giving Corvan the space to refocus, then spoke. “I’d like to see the new section of the ruins.”

  Corvan hesitated, his shoulders sagging slightly. “It’s against protocol to go down there before the scout teams give the all-clear.”

  He paused, one hand coming up to his jaw as he thought aloud. “But if you come with me… Maybe we’ll find something worth showing.”

  “Selene is coming as well,” Eldric interjected. “Non-negotiable.”

  “What?” Corvan’s attention snapped to Selene, then back to Eldric. He stopped, thinking for a moment, then turned toward the woman writing in her ledger. “Selis, can you keep an eye on her?”

  Selene stiffened, her fingers curling at her sides. She said nothing, but her gaze shifted to Eldric, waiting.

  Selis exhaled, pausing for a moment before adjusting her glasses in front of her blue eyes. “Yes.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Eldric said, a small smile touching his lips. “We leave right now.”

  Corvan hesitated. He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

  They stepped out of the tent into the harsh light of afternoon. All sound came roaring back. The excavation bustled around them, voices calling coordinates, hammers ringing against stone, the creak of rope and timber. Corvan led the way toward the Grand Entrance, Eldric and Selene close behind, Selis trailing at a measured distance.

  Above them, the Veilspine Range loomed silent and still, its peaks wrapped in eternal mist. The mountains kept their vigil as they always had, patient and ancient.

  They knew what waited in the darkness below.