The trail narrowed as they descended into the stone basin; the same location Rhazir had pointed to three days ago. This was it: the abandoned village, hidden between crumbling cliffs and long-forgotten terrain. The wind died as they approached, and the air grew unnaturally still. Towering rock walls loomed on either side, like the ribs of some ancient, buried creature. Below, nestled within jagged stone and centuries of collapse, lay what remained of the place: fractured tiles, fallen archways, and a silence too heavy to be natural.
When they reached their destination, Zuberi knelt beside a cluster of moss-covered stones and placed his palm against the ground. His Mark flickered faintly under his skin. For a moment, the others said nothing, watching him listen to the earth the way only he could.
"There's something below," he murmured. "Deep. But old. I can't feel a source... more like residue."
Kazi moved toward the remains of a wall marked with faded glyphs. She traced a finger across the stone, where the ancient symbols curled into each other like branches of a tree burned long ago. Her Mark stirred in response; faint warmth threading through her veins; but it didn't surge or resonate the way it had in Ashano or Dushegrove.
It was quieter here.
Controlled.
"These lines..." she muttered. "They aren't from my Line, or any other Line from what I can tell. It's something else."
Dakarai paced nearby, stopping at what looked like a partially collapsed well. Sparks flicked from his fingers as he brushed dust off the circular stone rim. "Feels like this place was sealed up intentionally."
"Why would anyone seal up a village?" Kazi asked, not expecting an answer.
Zuberi stood, wiping dust from his palms. "To keep something in. Or out."
They spent the next hour searching in silence.
Rhazir remained near the center of the ruins, his eyes distant, arms folded as he occasionally glanced down at his scanner. He didn't speak much, didn't offer direction, but Kazi noticed how he seemed to always watch where they had already walked, as though retracing their steps in his mind.
The group split up for a wider search.
Kazi and Dakarai headed east through the remains of what had once been a larger structure, maybe a meeting hall or residence. Inside, only the stone frame remained. Roots had broken through the floor, weaving around cracked tiles and foundation beams.
Dakarai stepped carefully, scanning the walls with arcing volts of energy from his fingertips.
Then he stopped.
"What is it?" Kazi asked.
He blinked. Looked down. Then looked behind him.
"I… I thought I came from the right side of that arch," he said, pointing back toward the threshold. "But I was on the left."
Kazi frowned. "You sure?"
Dakarai nodded. "Yeah. Weird."
Kazi said nothing, but her skin prickled slightly. She pressed her palm to the nearest wall. Her Mark didn't respond.
Back outside, Zuberi called them over.
He had found something buried beneath one of the half-fallen structures, a stone tablet, cracked diagonally across the middle, half-buried in dirt and char.
The others gathered around as he brushed it clean with controlled swirls of moving stone.
Etched across the surface was a single, unfamiliar symbol, part Mark, part warning.
Kazi crouched down, narrowing her eyes.
"That's not one of the Eight Lines," she said.
"It's not a Line at all," Rhazir added, kneeling beside her. "It's a ward. This place was sealed against resonance."
"Can someone even do that?" Dakarai asked, voice low.
"Not alone," Rhazir replied. "And not easily. But it's been done before. In places where resonance destabilized too many structures, or drew too many... unwanted things."
Zuberi tapped the edge of the stone. "Someone didn't want bearers to come here."
"Or didn't want them to leave," Kazi said quietly.
As the sun dipped lower, shadows stretched long through the hollow.
They gathered around what little was left of a fire pit near the center of the ruins. The stones were charred, blackened by time, but a few pieces of scorched wood still remained. Zuberi reignited the pit with a focused twist of heat and pressure through his hand, lighting the wood with a soft crackle.
As they sat, Kazi kept stealing glances at the broken tablet, now propped against a piece of rubble. Something about it unsettled her.
"It's not just the resonance that feels wrong here," she said finally. "It's the silence."
Dakarai nodded, absently sparking his fingertips again. "I lost track of where I was again when we looped around the central hall. It was like... I blinked and forgot what side of the building I entered from."
Zuberi turned toward Rhazir. "You knew this place was strange."
"I knew it had history," Rhazir said calmly. "The scanner doesn't tell me what happened. Only that something left a trace."
Kazi watched him for a moment longer than she needed to.
Then she stood.
"I want to map the symbols on the walls before it gets dark."
"I'll come with you," Zuberi offered.
Dakarai remained by the fire, muttering something about his legs needing a break. Rhazir stayed in his spot, gaze tilted toward the sky where dusk bled into the edges of night.
Kazi and Zuberi moved slowly through the western portion of the village. The walls there were more intact, with cleaner lines and better preserved markings. Kazi drew sketches into her notebook with quick, confident strokes. Zuberi stayed close, brushing dust off surfaces, keeping watch without being asked.
"You've changed a lot in three weeks," Kazi said quietly, not looking up.
"You mean the Mark?" Zuberi replied.
She nodded. "And how you carry it. You don't hesitate."
Zuberi's voice was steady. "You stop hesitating when you see what happens when you do."
Kazi didn't respond right away. The last few weeks had hardened them all, but especially him. He wasn't brash like Dakarai, or unreadable like Rhazir. Zuberi had seen something, somewhere before they met. She didn't need to ask what.
She felt it in the way he carried himself, always ready, always grounded.
They returned to camp just as night fell.
Dakarai had already fallen asleep with his arms folded across his chest, head tilted back against a flat stone. Rhazir was still seated, unmoving, eyes half-lidded.
Zuberi settled near the fire without a word. Kazi placed her notebook beside her and let her hands warm near the flames.
No one spoke for a long time.
The wind pushed through the ruins softly, like a whisper that never found words.
Somewhere behind the wall, a wooden beam cracked under its own weight, loud in the silence.
Kazi didn't flinch.
But she did glance back.
Because deep beneath her skin, the Mark stirred, not alarmed… but aware.