The group moved quickly.
They didn't speak much as they returned to their temporary camp near the cliffs—a narrow patch of dry stone ringed by driftwood, half-hidden by jagged rock formations. The firepit still smoldered faintly, embers hissing as Fina stoked it back to life. Rinni unrolled their map scrolls across a flat slab of rock.
Allen stood nearby, shirtless, turning the tag over in his hand. It felt heavier now. Not literally—but in that way pain had weight.
Fina crouched over the map, her claw tracing the coastline.
"They would've needed a transport," she murmured. "Submersible, maybe. Or teleportation magic. Something fast. But demons…" Her voice lowered. "Demons like to leave marks. Wards. Seals. Traps."
"Breadcrumbs?" Allen asked.
"Barbed wire," Fina corrected grimly. "But yeah. If they rushed, they may have left magical residue."
