The air at the bottom of the sinkhole felt colder.

  Not the natural chill of shade or mountain wind.

  Something heavier.

  Like the quiet inside an ancient building that had not been opened for centuries.

  The four adventurers moved slowly through the ruins.

  Broken walls leaned at odd angles. Cracked stone pathways disappeared beneath collapsed debris. Fragments of statues lay scattered across the ground, worn smooth by time.

  But the architecture itself was strange.

  Too precise.

  Too uniform.

  “These ruins don’t look like a city,” Taren said quietly.

  Dorian nodded.

  “No houses. No wells. No market structures.”

  Lira crouched beside a fallen pillar.

  “More like… an installation.”

  Kael didn’t answer.

  The Sigil beneath his glove had been pulsing steadily since they reached the bottom of the sinkhole.

  Each pulse stronger than the last.

  Something below was waking.

  The boot prints they had followed from the slope continued across the ruins.

  Three different sets.

  They moved in careful formation through the broken stone streets before disappearing between two collapsed structures near the center of the sinkhole.

  “Looks like they found something,” Dorian said.

  Lira motioned for everyone to slow down.

  The ground here had changed.

  Large stone plates formed a circular pattern in the earth—most of them buried under dust and rubble.

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  But one section had clearly been cleared recently.

  Someone had been digging.

  Taren knelt beside the exposed stone.

  “Runic pattern,” he whispered.

  Kael stepped closer.

  It wasn’t runic.

  It was structural geometry.

  Lines carved into the stone formed a massive circular design—segments interlocking with mathematical precision.

  His Sigil flared hot.

  Recognition.

  This wasn’t just part of the ruins.

  This was the entrance.

  “The scouting team opened something,” Kael said.

  Dorian looked around.

  “I don’t see any door.”

  Kael pointed.

  At the center of the circle.

  The stone there had sunk slightly.

  Not broken.

  Lowered.

  A mechanism.

  Lira stepped carefully toward it.

  “Everyone spread out. Watch for traps.”

  Dorian planted himself near one edge of the clearing while Taren scanned the ground with faint pulses of light magic.

  Kael stepped into the circle.

  The moment his boot touched the center plate—

  The Sigil ignited.

  Heat surged through his palm.

  The carved lines across the stone circle began to glow faintly.

  Taren jumped back.

  “Uh… did you just activate something?”

  “Yes.”

  The lines spread outward across the buried stone plates like lightning traveling through ancient circuitry.

  Dust shook loose from the ground.

  Deep below them…

  Something massive moved.

  Dorian lifted his hammer.

  “Door?”

  “Probably,” Kael said.

  The central stone plate suddenly split.

  Segments slid apart with grinding echoes that rolled across the sinkhole.

  A staircase slowly revealed itself beneath the earth.

  Descending into darkness.

  Cold air rushed upward from the opening.

  Air that had not touched the surface in centuries.

  Taren stared down the staircase.

  “Okay… that’s definitely where the missing scouts went.”

  Lira peered into the darkness.

  “No sign of them coming back.”

  Dorian grunted.

  “Which means they’re either dead…”

  “Or stuck,” Taren added.

  Kael looked down into the newly opened passage.

  The Sigil pulsed again.

  Not a warning.

  An invitation.

  Something below had recognized him.

  Something old.

  Older than the ruins above.

  Older than the town.

  Possibly older than the Crown itself.

  Lira glanced back at the others.

  “Well.”

  She drew one of her daggers.

  “Shall we go find out what’s down there?”

  Dorian cracked his neck.

  “After you.”

  Taren sighed dramatically.

  “I hate underground contracts.”

  Kael stepped toward the staircase first.

  Torchlight flickered along the stone walls as they descended.

  The architecture below was far more intact than the ruins above.

  Smooth walls.

  Perfect angles.

  No erosion.

  No collapse.

  It looked less like a ruin…

  And more like a sealed facility.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs after several minutes.

  The passage opened into a long corridor.

  And there—

  In the dust across the floor—

  Fresh tracks.

  Three sets of boots.

  And something else.

  Dorian crouched beside them.

  “These aren’t monster tracks.”

  Taren leaned closer.

  “…No.”

  They were long.

  Thin.

  Almost like claw marks dragged slowly across the stone.

  Lira tightened her grip on her dagger.

  “So the scouts weren’t alone down here.”

  Kael’s Sigil burned hotter.

  Whatever had made those marks…

  It was still moving.

  Deep within the buried structure.

  And now it knew they had arrived.