The first hour of base-camp construction unfolded smoothly enough—smoothly in the way calm waters still hid deep, unseen currents. The island wind carried a faint brine scent, brushing through the treeline like a breath that had been held for too long. Birds cried—unfamiliar ones, with notes that echoed like chimes caught in a storm. As the sun drifted higher, the moist heat of the island settled heavily on every student, wrapping around necks like a slow, simmering pressure.
Arios felt that pressure acutely.
He stood at the edge of the clearing, a stake in one hand, the small sledge in the other. The ground was slightly softer than it should've been—like the soil here was recently disturbed. He pressed his boot lightly into the earth, noting how it sank just a little too far.
Strange.
Lucy, crouched nearby marking the perimeter with chalk outlines, noticed his pause.
"Arios?" she said, brushing sweat from her forehead. "You're thinking too hard again. Floor plan issues?"
