Chapter 81: Whisper Beneath the Dust
The morning air in Velkarth was dry and bright, carrying the scent of warm stone, roasted meat, and overworked magic. Birds chirped somewhere behind tiled roofs. The city had already begun to stir, but inside the Shattered Tooth Inn, time moved more slowly.
Isaac sat at a table near the window, boots propped up and fingers wrapped around a lukewarm mug of bitterleaf tea. Across from him, Lira was peeling a soft-boiled egg with the patience of someone who didn't want to talk until she'd had food and at least two full minutes of silence.
"Anything feel different?" she asked finally.
Isaac glanced out the window. "Everything's louder. Or maybe I'm just hearing more of it."
"You're not wrong. People are whispering about us. Mostly you."
"I didn't bid. I didn't fight. I barely spoke."
Lira grinned. "Which is what makes you terrifying."
Before he could reply, a familiar voice cut in.
"You look well for someone the royal courts are starting to write reports about."
Renall slid into a chair beside them, looking unusually serious. He wore traveling leathers, dusty at the hems, and carried a satchel of maps and scrolls.
Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Something on your mind?"
"Two things," Renall said. "First, I got paid for last night. Which means you two earned a cut."
He handed Isaac a small pouch. Isaac weighed it in his hand. He didn't bother to count.
Renall continued. "Second—and more interesting—have you ever heard of the Twelve-Step Vault?"
Isaac blinked. "No."
Lira raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a cult or a bootcamp."
"Neither," Renall said. "It's a ruin. Older than any registered empire. Supposedly predates the age of written spellcraft. It's buried somewhere in the northern Velkarth Basin."
He lowered his voice and set a folded parchment on the table. "And it's been closed for centuries. But two days ago, a caravan scout swore he saw light coming from one of the basin crevices. He tried to investigate, and his entire group got turned around—compasses dead, trails erased, even their pack beast panicked and bolted."
Isaac leaned forward. "Let me guess. People think it's cursed?"
"Not cursed," Renall said. "Selective. It opens sometimes. To people it chooses. And it always closes behind them."
He let that hang in the air for a beat.
Lira glanced at Isaac. "So naturally, we want to walk into it."
Isaac gave a small smile. "It might be the only place in this region that hasn't had its relics plundered or copied. Which makes it very… interesting."
Renall nodded. "I thought you'd say that. You're not the only one sniffing around, though. A few B-rank adventuring teams were seen preparing supplies with the same basin charts."
Isaac picked up the map. A trail was marked in red ink, circling a ravine east of the basin cliffs.
"We'll need to move fast," Isaac said.
"And quietly," Lira added.
"I can provide some general gear," Renall offered, "but from here on out, you'll be on your own. No one registers inside those ruins. People either come back with treasure… or not at all."
Isaac nodded. "Good. I need a place where no one's watching."
They spent the rest of the morning preparing.
Isaac entered a private room and knelt beside the bed, hands hovering over the activation circle of his [Dimensional Vault]. One by one, weapons and tools appeared—some real, some phantom-replicated: the Skyrender Pike, the Hand of Vellutar, the massive Gravemaw, and the elegant memory of Silverveil.
He laid them out in silence, one after another. Their auras, even in phantom form, carried presence.
Meanwhile, Lira restocked field rations, basic potions, a collapsible kettle, and three sets of anti-corrosion socks. "Because last time," she'd said, "I stepped in puddles that smelled like rusted regret."
By noon, they stood at the southern gate of Velkarth.
A dry wind curled around them, brushing dust across the cobblestones. The basin sprawled in the distance, its canyons and hills stretching like a sea of sunbaked bones.
Isaac adjusted the straps on his coat. "Any regrets?"
"Only that I didn't swipe another custard roll on the way out," Lira said, stretching her back.
He glanced at the horizon, where the map's path pointed them toward an unnamed ravine said to shift its shape.
Isaac took a breath. For the first time in weeks, he wasn't chasing danger or fleeing attention.
He was walking into the unknown.
Willingly.
"Let's see what's waiting beneath the dust," he murmured.
And together, they stepped into the basin.