The dig beneath the northern rampart began before sunrise. Lanterns swung from iron posts. Shovels scraped against stone and shattered earth. Crown and Reuven soldiers stood side by side, while engineers marked every surface with white glyph chalk. Below them, a darker stone lay veined with violet ore barely visible, but unmistakably infused with aura.
Thalen arrived with Varos and Ilara, his cloak billowing in the torchlight.
"How deep are we now?" he asked the excavation overseer.
"Twenty-seven spans," the man replied. "We've cleared two descending vaults. The third... is different."
Thalen glanced at Ilara, who was already adjusting her gloves.
"Show us."
They descended carefully. The third vault was quiet eerily so. The walls were smooth and polished, unlike the raw-cut stone above. Etchings ran across the surface: symmetrical, coiled, organic, not geometric like normal glyphs. These markings weren't drawn with precision. They were grown etched by time or aura itself.
