The chamber was preserved.
That was the first word that came to mind.
No dripping water. No collapsing stone. No thick dust smothering everything.
It was dry. Clean in an old way. Like someone had built it to last and it had obeyed.
A semicircular wall stretched ahead, carved with lines of writing. Some of it was in letters I could read—the same letters we used in guild notices and shop signs.
But woven between those lines were other marks.
Symbols.
Sharp, geometric, repeating patterns that made my eyes slide off them like they didn't want to be understood.
Milo lifted the lantern, mouth open. "Whoa."
Todd stepped closer, eyes wide now, the argument-boy temporarily gone. "This is… real."
Ash nodded, and there was something quietly proud in his face, like he was showing us a place that mattered.
"This is one of Altes's chambers," he said. "Or at least… one of the preserved ones."
Milo whispered, "Like… he stood here."
Ash shrugged lightly. "Maybe. Or someone he trusted did."
I walked closer to the readable part and squinted.
The writing wasn't poetic.
It wasn't heroic.
It looked like… instructions.
Like someone had taken a guild job board and carved it into stone.
Milo read aloud in a whisper, stumbling over the more formal words.
"'Maintain… the breath-way. Replace the vessel at… regular interval. Clear vent-lattice. Do not disturb… sealed line.'"
Todd stared at him, disappointed. "That's it?"
Milo looked betrayed. "That's not a heroic speech. That's… chores."
I couldn't help it. A small laugh slipped out.
It immediately stabbed my side.
I clamped my mouth shut and sucked in a quiet breath through my teeth.
Ash's eyes flicked to me. "Careful."
"I'm fine," I whispered automatically.
Ash didn't argue. He just stepped slightly closer, like a quiet wall.
Todd leaned in and pointed at another line. "This one says… 'If you are reading this, you are late. Work anyway.'"
Milo blinked. "That's… kind of rude."
Todd nodded slowly. "I like him."
Ash huffed a laugh. "That line gets everyone. Altes had no patience for excuses."
Milo frowned. "But he's a hero."
Ash tilted his head. "Heroes don't have to sound pretty. Sometimes they just… solve problems."
Todd stared at the inscription again, and for once he didn't look like he was trying to turn it into a story. He looked like he was actually thinking.
"So… this kept Avalonia alive," he murmured.
Ash nodded. "One piece of it."
Milo's gaze drifted to the unknown symbols.
He squinted. "What are those?"
I stared too.
The symbols weren't random scribbles. They were too consistent. Some repeated in blocks like sentences. Some had small markings beside them like numbers or measurements. Some looked like diagrams that made no sense.
They made my head feel heavy just looking at them.
"I don't know," I admitted softly.
Ash crossed his arms and said, "Neither does Seagate."
Milo's head snapped toward him. "Seagate? The academy?"
Ash nodded. "This place used to be swarmed with professors from Seagate Academy. They came here for years. Decades."
Todd blinked, stunned. "They couldn't read it?"
Ash shook his head. "Not that part. The readable writing? Easy. That's our common tongue. But this?" He tapped the unknown block with a knuckle and the sound rang softly. "They couldn't decode it."
Milo's face scrunched up like that offended him personally. "How can you… not decode a language if you have professors?"
Ash gave him a look. "Professors aren't gods."
Todd swallowed. "So what happened?"
Ash leaned back against the wall, casual again. "Eventually, people got tired. Funding changed. Interest shifted. About a hundred years ago, Seagate stopped sending people here. They call it a dead end."
Milo whispered, "That's tragic."
Todd muttered, "That's embarrassing."
Ash shrugged. "That's life."
I stared at the symbols, feeling strangely small.
Not in a bad way.
In a way that made the world feel bigger than my problems.
Then my chest tightened and Myrina's face flashed through my mind—not injured, not bleeding, just laughing in that easy way she did when she thought something was stupid.
She would've made fun of the "hero" who wrote chores into stone.
She would've loved this place anyway.
I couldn't stop the thought:
Myrina would've loved this weird, practical kind of heroism… and I can't help wondering if she's walked these stones before.
My throat tightened hard enough that it hurt.
I swallowed and forced my eyes away.
Ash noticed anyway.
He didn't comment.
But he shifted slightly, blocking Todd and Milo's view of my face for a moment, like he understood without needing words.
***
After a few minutes of staring and reading like confused kids pretending we were scholars, Ash pushed off the wall and clapped his hands once—softly, so it didn't echo too harsh.
"Alright," he said. "The point isn't to understand Altes's mystery language. If Seagate couldn't do it, you're not going to do it today."
Milo pouted. "So we're not chosen."
Todd rolled his eyes. "We're obviously chosen."
Ash sighed. "You're obviously loud."
Then he pointed at three different features in the chamber.
"See that vent lattice?" he said, indicating a narrow grate near the floor. "That's airflow. It tells you the system still breathes."
He pointed at a metal inlay line that ran along the wall like a seam. "That's a sealed line. Don't pry it."
He pointed at a small carved symbol on a plate—simple, clean. "That's a route marker."
Todd crossed his arms, trying to look like he already knew everything. "So what's the trial part?"
Ash looked at him. "It tested if you could come down here, see something mysterious, and not touch the wrong thing."
Milo blinked. "That's it?"
Ash nodded. "That's it."
Todd scoffed. "That's not bravery."
Ash replied evenly, "Bravery without discipline is just stupidity with confidence."
Milo whispered, "That's kind of heroic."
Todd glared at him.
Ash turned to me. "You."
I straightened immediately. "Yes?"
Ash's eyes softened slightly. "Tell me three things you noticed since we entered the tunnel."
My brain panicked.
Then steadied.
I inhaled slowly.
"The air got cleaner near the chamber," I said. "The lantern flame steadied. And… the route markers changed shape at the junction."
Ash nodded. "Good."
Milo whined quietly. "Why does he get teacher praise."
Todd muttered, "Because he's not annoying."
Milo gasped. "I'm a morale booster."
Ash ignored them and continued, "Now, small test."
He walked to the side wall where a small panel was set low, almost hidden. It had a simple latch and a symbol carved above it.
He looked at us. "What does this mean?"
Todd leaned in fast. "It's a square with a line. Main route."
Ash nodded. "Correct."
Milo leaned in too. "So we can touch it?"
Ash stared at him.
Milo corrected himself quickly. "So… we should not touch it."
Ash nodded. "Better."
Then Ash looked at me. "You open it."
My stomach flipped. "Me?"
Ash's voice stayed calm. "It's safe. And it's meant to be done."
I stepped closer, swallowing my nerves. My right hand reached for the latch. I hesitated.
Ash spoke quietly, just for me. "Slow. Think. Don't rush because someone's watching."
I nodded and opened it carefully.
Inside was… nothing dramatic.
A small compartment. A dusty cloth roll. A metal cap like part of a container.
Milo looked disappointed. "I expected treasure."
Todd looked relieved. "I expected a trap."
Ash said, "This is the point. You see something old and hidden, and your brain starts writing a story. But most of the time, it's just… parts."
He lifted the metal cap and showed it to us. "This was used for replacements. They carried parts through this corridor instead of hauling them through the city above."
He turned it over, revealing a maker's mark stamped into the metal.
Not a crest.
Not a noble symbol.
A simple, clean stamp.
Milo squinted. "What's that?"
Ash said, "Altes's mark."
Todd looked offended again. "That's boring."
Ash shrugged. "Boring saved the kingdom."
I stared at the mark, trying to memorize it. Not because I thought it would make me special.
Because it was real.
Because someone had made it with their hands, and eight hundred years later, we were holding it.
Ash rolled the cloth back up and returned the cap gently, then closed the panel.
He rested his palm on it for a second like a quiet salute.
Then he turned away.
"That's enough," he said. "We're done here."
Milo blinked. "That's the whole underground walk?"
Ash nodded. "Yep."
Todd frowned. "That was… short."
Ash pointed back toward the corridor. "Not every interesting thing has to be long. Let's get out of here, boys."
He said it so casually—boys—like we were just leaving a storage room, not a secret chamber under an ancient shrine.
He led us down another dark set of stairs near the chamber—narrow, unlit, carved clean like it had been designed as an exit route.
Milo held the lantern higher, trying to see ahead. "I don't like that there's no light."
Todd scoffed. "You were literally begging for adventure."
Milo hissed, "Yes. With lighting."
Ash chuckled quietly. "Keep moving."
We climbed.
Up and up, steps worn smooth. My side tugged harder now. My breath stayed steady, but the ache pressed in.
Ash didn't say anything.
He just kept his pace matched to mine.
Finally, the ceiling above us shifted from stone to wood.
A square outline appeared.
Ash stopped, reached up, and pushed.
The ceiling moved with a familiar creak—another square door, like the one at the shrine.
Cool evening air spilled in.
Light poured down.
Ash pushed again and the door swung open fully.
We climbed out.
And the world changed.
We weren't back at the shrine clearing.
We weren't even near the main forest path.
We stepped into a small flower field—wide and open like a hidden pocket of sky had fallen to the ground. Pale blossoms spread out in soft waves, and a narrow river flowed along the side, water catching the last golden light of late afternoon.
The air smelled sweet. Fresh. Alive.
For a moment, none of us spoke.
Milo's jaw dropped. "Oh…"
Todd stared, completely silent, as if words would ruin it.
I stood there and felt something in my chest loosen painfully.
Beautiful things existed outside the wall.
Not just danger.
Not just monsters.
Just… beauty.
I turned slowly, taking it all in, then looked at Ash.
"How did you know about this?" I asked, voice almost a whisper.
Ash looked out over the field like he'd seen it many times and still respected it.
Then he said, simply, "Myrina."
My heart clenched.
Ash glanced at me, expression gentle in a way he didn't use often.
"She took me here," he continued. "Showed me the route. Told me the stories. The trial, Altes, the monument stuff… even the herbs."
Milo finally regained his voice. "Wait—Myrina knew this secret tunnel thing?"
Ash nodded. "Yeah."
Todd frowned, suspicious again. "Why would she know?"
Ash shrugged. "Because she was curious. And because she actually listened when people talked."
Todd's mouth opened, then shut.
Milo looked personally wounded. "So she's cooler than all of us."
"Yes," Ash said without hesitation.
Milo sighed dramatically. "Fair."
I felt my eyes sting.
Not the oath sting.
Not the warning heat.
Just… emotion.
I blinked hard and held it back.
Ash didn't pretend not to notice.
He stepped closer and bumped my shoulder lightly, the same way he had on the road earlier.
"Hey," he said quietly. "Don't cry in front of them. They'll make it weird."
I huffed out a shaky breath that almost turned into a laugh.
My side punished me for it.
I winced.
Ash's mouth twitched. "See? You're already paying."
I swallowed and managed, "Thank you."
Ash looked away toward the flowers, like accepting thanks made him uncomfortable. "I planned to do this with you alone," he admitted. "But then I ran into those two statues back at the monument."
Todd bristled. "We are not statues."
"You argued like you were carved," Ash replied.
Milo grinned. "So you brought us for fun."
Ash nodded. "You add noise. It helps."
Todd blinked. "That's your idea of fun?"
Ash shrugged. "Sometimes."
I stared at the flowers again, chest tight in a gentler way now.
Myrina had stood here.
Myrina had walked these routes.
She'd shown Ash.
It made her feel closer for one dangerous second.
Ash crouched near the edge of the field and pointed at a patch of leaves growing among the blossoms—thin, pale, with a faint silvery sheen.
"Here," he said. "This is why I wanted to bring you."
Todd and Milo rushed over immediately.
Milo gasped. "Moonleaf!"
Todd blinked. "That's real?"
Ash nodded, fingers careful as he touched the plant without bruising it. "Moonleaf sprigs. Rare."
I crouched too, watching.
Ash looked at me. "Sunleaf is for healing potions. This?" He lifted one sprig gently. "This is used for recovery mana potions."
Milo's eyes sparkled like copper. "That sounds expensive."
Ash nodded. "More than Sunleaf. But harder to find. It only grows out here—places like this."
Todd's tone turned serious. "So we gather it?"
Ash glanced at the sun dipping lower, the light turning warmer, longer shadows stretching across the flower field.
"We gather a little," he said. "Not too much. And we leave the roots."
I nodded quickly, already reaching with my right hand.
Ash stopped me with a small gesture. Not harsh. Just… guiding.
"Pinch here," he said, demonstrating. "Slow. Don't tear."
I copied him, and the sprig came free cleanly.
My chest warmed with the simple satisfaction of doing something right.
Milo whispered like it was sacred. "We are harvesting the moon."
Todd whispered back, "You're going to make me throw you in the river."
Milo whispered, "You can't throw heroes in rivers."
Todd whispered, "Watch me."
Ash straightened and looked at the sky again.
"It's getting late," he said. "We head back before it gets dark."
Milo groaned. "But the adventure—"
Ash cut him off lightly. "The adventure continues tomorrow. Today you live."
Todd nodded like that was fair.
We gathered a small bundle—enough to matter, not enough to kill the patch.
Then Ash motioned us toward the path back, leading us along the river's edge.
The flower field stayed behind like a secret we were allowed to borrow.
As we walked, the light softened into early evening.
The forest sounds shifted—day birds fading, different insects waking.
My steps were slower now, ache settling deep in my side, but my mind felt… clearer.
Like air had finally reached places inside me that had been suffocating.
We were nearing the direction of the city when Ash fell back slightly until he was walking beside me.
Todd and Milo were ahead, bickering again—quietly—about whether a hero would gather herbs with gloves or bare hands.
Ash waited until they weren't looking at us.
Then he spoke in a low voice, almost casual.
"By the way," he said, "before Myrina left… she left me a message."
I stopped so suddenly my foot caught on a root.
Pain flared in my side.
I ignored it.
I turned my head toward him, heart slamming.
"A message?" I breathed.
Ash nodded, eyes forward, as if he didn't want to make it a big thing.
But he'd already made it a big thing.
My throat went dry.
I stared at him with everything I had.
"What is it?" I asked.
Ash's gaze flicked to me—steady, serious now.
And he didn't answer yet.