Chapter 18

The quarry echoed with the rhythm of progress. Tools rang against stone, heavy wheels groaned underload, and shouts from the crew echoed down the rock walls. Stone was being shaped. Wagons filled. The skeleton of Ironhaven’s future was being hauled from the earth.

Marion should have felt pride.

Instead, she felt drawn.

The black gem around her neck had been pulsing again. Not with heat—but with intention. It wasn’t random. It throbbed like a drumbeat under her collarbone, slow and deliberate. Not pain. Not warning.

Calling.

She stepped away from the workers and stared toward the eastern edge of the quarry. Beyond the cut stone, a ridge curled upward into a snarl of slate and moss-covered boulders. The feeling in her chest tugged harder.

Kaela was busy checking a wagon’s axle, so Marion slipped away without a word. Her boots crunched across gravel and then sank into soft undergrowth as she followed the strange pull.

The slope narrowed into a natural passage—steep and forgotten, overgrown with ferns and low-hanging roots. A gap between two ancient stones opened before her. Not a trail, but a threshold.

Two massive stone faces curved inward here, worn by wind and age. They rose like fangs, enclosing the entrance like a set of yawning jaws.

She stepped through.

The light changed.

The quarry’s noise vanished, swallowed behind her. In its place—silence. No birds, no breeze. Just the faint echo of her own breath and the rhythm of the gem’s pulse.

The ground beneath her boots grew soft with moss. Trees gave way to a shadowed basin where time seemed to curl inward. And at the basin’s center—

A pool.

It was perfectly still. Round and black as obsidian. Its surface did not reflect the sky or the trees. Around its edges, slate stones were carefully stacked in fading rings, as if something had once marked it sacred. Or dangerous.

Marion knelt at the edge, drawn to the center of the hollow.

That’s when the gem disappeared.

One heartbeat it hung at her neck.

The next—it was gone.

Startled, she reached for it—but a shimmer above the water caught her eye.

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There it floated, suspended a hand’s span above the pool, slowly rotating in place. The gem cast no shadow, yet pulsed with a light from within—deep violet, like a star buried in coal.

The pool stirred.

Its glassy surface rippled inward, like breath being drawn. A low hum grew beneath her knees, vibrating through the stone itself. She could feel it in her bones.

Then the gem dipped, brushing the surface.

And the world changed.

Darkness.

Flame.

A shadow blotted the heavens.

Veynir.

The last death dragon.

Wings torn. Scales cracked and bleeding molten black. A spear of unlight skewered his chest, driven by a figure wreathed in fire—Malakar, his smile as cruel as it was triumphant.

The sky burned. Mountains cracked. A valley split open beneath Veynir’s fall, and his body shattered the stone.

Blood became rivers.

Bone became monuments.

And in the heart of the ruin, a single fragment of soul—this gem—remained.

It pulsed once. Then again.

Not dying.

Transforming.

Marion blinked, and the vision ended.

The glow in the pool faded.

The gem still hovered above the water—but now, it looked different. Veins of violet etched across its surface like cracks of light in obsidian. Something in it had shifted.

Deepened.

Awakened.

She reached out.

The gem lowered itself gently into her hand.

Warm. Alive. Breathing.

She looked into the pool again.

No reflection met her gaze.

Instead, for a single, impossible heartbeat—

A dragon’s eye stared up at her.

Vast. Golden. Ancient.

It blinked.

Then vanished.

By nightfall, the quarry crew had set up a makeshift camp. A cookfire crackled in a ring of stones. Lanterns glowed near wagons. Some workers ate in groups, others laughed or tended blisters. The quarry would rest until morning.

Marion sat at the edge of the firelight, her thoughts heavy, the gem now tucked away safely beneath her cloak.

Kaela approached with two mugs, one sloshing with cider, the other steaming with something herbal.

“You’ve been quiet,” Kaela said, handing her the mug. “More than usual.”

“Just tired,” Marion murmured. “Today was... a lot.”

Kaela sat beside her, stretching her long legs toward the fire. “Feels good to camp out. Makes me miss the road sometimes.”

Marion offered a faint smile. “You traveled a lot?”

“Before Ironhaven, yeah,” Kaela said. “Guard work, caravan jobs, even ran messages for a Beastkin warlord once. Weird guy. Liked cheese too much.”

Marion chuckled softly, the sound genuine.

A comfortable silence followed.

They lapsed into silence for a while, the fire popping gently between them.

Eventually, Marion spoke, voice low. “There’s a place. I found it past the eastern ridge. Between two curved stone faces—like... jaws, carved into the hills.”

Kaela glanced at her, alert now. “Go on.”

“There’s a pool,” Marion said. “Still, black, deeper than it looks. Surrounded by old stone rings. It felt like… something was listening.”

Kaela was quiet for a moment, then said, “A shrine?”

“I don’t know. Maybe older than that. Wilder.” She stared into the fire. “I touched the water. Something happened. It felt like the land itself remembered something I couldn’t.”

Kaela studied her a long moment but didn’t interrupt.

“I can’t explain all of it,” Marion continued. “I’m still trying to understand. But I don’t think I found it by accident.”

“No,” Kaela said softly. “I don’t think you did either.”

Marion looked at her, uncertain.

Kaela met her gaze and shrugged. “You’ve always been chasing answers, Marion. But maybe this time, they’re chasing you back.”

They sat quietly after that, sharing warmth and silence.

The gem throbbed faintly under Marion’s shirt, but she didn’t mention it—not yet.

For now, she had shared enough.