Even after the perimeter was set and the scouts dispersed to mark a secure observation radius, Ethan remained at the edge of the clearing, eyes fixed on the looming, glyph-etched ruins.
Wind whispered through the dense foliage around them, and the faint glow of the symbols pulsing along the black stone was strangely rhythmic—like a heartbeat. A breath. A memory, living on long after the body had died.
Ethan finally exhaled, his breath steady but his mind stirring with a storm of questions.
"I want this entire ruin mapped," he said to David, who stood beside him reviewing the crystal slate. "From the arches to the foundation. Any fractures, breaches, unusual mana surges. This isn't just some lost building."
David frowned. "And the scouts?"
"Two rotating shifts. Five hours per shift. No one moves alone. No one touches the glyphs."
David nodded, relaying the order through his communicator stone. The team scattered with practiced efficiency.
