The next morning arrived with a pale gray sky.

  Mist drifted along the streets of the border town as the gates slowly opened for caravans and travelers. The air carried the damp chill of early autumn.

  Kael arrived at the Adventurers’ Guild courtyard just before sunrise.

  Several expedition groups were already preparing.

  Wagons creaked under the weight of supplies. Horses snorted clouds of breath into the cold air. Adventurers checked blades, tightened armor straps, and argued over maps.

  The Northern Sink Ruins expedition would not be the only team leaving today.

  But it was easily the most dangerous.

  Kael leaned against a wooden post near the courtyard entrance and waited.

  A few minutes later, Lira appeared.

  She walked through the gate with the same relaxed confidence as yesterday, though today she wore full travel gear. Twin daggers rested at her hips, and a compact crossbow hung across her back.

  “You’re early,” she said.

  Kael shrugged.

  “Habit.”

  “Good habit.”

  She glanced around the courtyard.

  “Our fourth is already here.”

  Kael frowned slightly.

  “Fourth?”

  Lira smirked.

  “I said my partner and I already signed. That makes two. You’re three.”

  “So who’s four?”

  Before she could answer, a deep voice spoke from behind them.

  “Hopefully someone smarter than the last teams that went in.”

  Kael turned.

  The man approaching them was large even by warrior standards. Broad shoulders, thick arms, and armor that looked more practical than decorative.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  A massive hammer rested against his back.

  His beard was streaked with gray, and a long scar crossed one side of his jaw.

  He looked like someone who had survived far too many battles.

  “Kael,” Lira said. “Meet Dorian.”

  “Former Rank B,” the man added.

  “Former?” Kael asked.

  Dorian shrugged.

  “Too many injuries. Guild dropped me to Rank C last year.”

  His sharp eyes studied Kael carefully.

  “You the kid joining us?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Dorian grunted.

  “You don’t look like much.”

  Lira laughed.

  “You say that about everyone.”

  “Because most adventurers aren’t much.”

  Dorian turned back to Kael.

  “What’s your weapon?”

  “Depends on the situation.”

  That answer made Dorian pause.

  Then he chuckled.

  “Alright. I like that one.”

  Lira glanced toward the guild entrance.

  “We’re still missing one person.”

  “Who?” Kael asked.

  Before she could respond, the heavy wooden doors of the guild swung open.

  A young man stepped outside.

  He looked younger than the rest of them—maybe early twenties.

  Light armor.

  Short brown hair.

  And a long staff strapped across his back.

  His eyes lit up when he spotted Lira.

  “Ah! You’re here already!”

  He hurried across the courtyard.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, slightly out of breath. “The quartermaster took forever checking the supplies.”

  Lira rubbed her forehead.

  “You were five minutes late, Taren.”

  “Still counts!”

  He noticed Kael and immediately brightened.

  “Oh! New teammate?”

  Lira nodded.

  “Kael. This is Taren.”

  Taren offered his hand enthusiastically.

  “Rank C mage!”

  Kael shook it.

  “Mage?”

  “Elemental focus,” Taren said proudly. “Mostly wind and light.”

  Dorian snorted.

  “He means he throws glowing air at things.”

  Taren glared at him.

  “It’s called controlled elemental projection.”

  “Sure it is.”

  Lira clapped once.

  “Alright. Now that introductions are over…”

  She pulled out the expedition map and unfolded it across a nearby supply crate.

  “The Northern Sink Ruins are about half a day north of here.”

  Kael studied the map.

  The location sat near the base of a mountain range.

  Remote.

  Unstable terrain.

  Exactly the kind of place ancient systems tended to hide.

  “Three scouting teams went missing,” Lira said.

  “No bodies found.”

  “No reports returned.”

  “Just silence.”

  Taren swallowed.

  “That’s the comforting part of the mission briefing, by the way.”

  Dorian cracked his knuckles.

  “Which usually means tunnels.”

  “Or monsters,” Taren added.

  Kael looked toward the distant northern mountains beyond the town walls.

  The Sigil beneath his glove pulsed again.

  Stronger.

  More focused.

  Something was definitely there.

  And whatever waited in those ruins…

  It had already begun reacting to him.

  Kael folded his arms.

  “When do we leave?”

  Lira rolled up the map.

  “Right now.”

  She nodded toward the open gate where several caravans were already departing.

  “Let’s go see what swallowed those scouting teams.”

  None of them noticed the cloaked figure watching from the rooftop of a nearby building.

  The figure stood completely still as the four adventurers walked through the gate and disappeared onto the northern road.

  Hidden beneath the cloak, a faint symbol glowed on the observer’s wrist.

  A symbol shaped like a broken circle.

  The same mark worn by the Cult.

  And as the expedition vanished into the mist beyond the town…

  The figure quietly whispered one word.

  “Candidate.”