“Lovely,” I muttered, blinking hard. “Absolutely lovely.”

  Ryn froze, fingers still resting on the satchel flap. Her eyes flicked to the corpse, then to the trees and then to me.

  “You realise that’s holy water, right?” she said with mild concern. “People usually don’t bathe in that.”

  “And now it’s dirty water.” I huffed a small laugh. “I’m sure I’ve done worse to her springs as a child. Speaking of worse, care to explain now why a monster was following you?”

  For a long second, she didn’t answer. Then she said quietly: “I crossed its trail two nights ago. I thought I lost it near the river but…”

  “You didn’t, obviously. I got that part,” I interjected. “I need to know why it was following you.”

  Ryn swallowed hard, worry creasing her brow. “It followed the resonance of the shrine. And then… you. I didn’t think it would come this close.” Her voice cracked on the last part, but she didn’t look away.

  A thin slice of sunlight broke through the branches and warmed my face. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it for a few moments.

  “If it was following the resonance, there was nothing you could have done,” I said. “So, how do they follow it?”

  Ryn stepped up beside me, at my shoulder, and followed my gaze.

  “It used to be a wolf, before the sundering twisted it. Now they hunt anything that has a similar resonance. Anything touched by divinity calls to them. Like blood in the water to sharks.”

  She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter.

  “Most divine traces now are faint. A hum. A blessing. A whisper. But when something like a shrine is still active, they’re drawn to it.”

  “Which means the moment that wave went out, that thing was coming straight for us,” I said, while leaning against a tree. “Doesn’t explain where it was coming from. The sundering is a myth… or ancient history, depending on who you ask.”

  Ryn’s gaze went to the pouch hanging from my belt, not accusatory but curious.

  “We call them Shardborne. According to the archives, living beings that got too close to the sundering were twisted into… well, that.” She said, pointing at the remnants. “They don’t age, but they are very persistent. Especially when a wave like that goes out nearby. Did you see what caused it? Maybe if we can find the source, I can write my thesis on it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You want to write your thesis on being attacked by a monster?”

  A shy smile crossed her face. “No. I want to write it on whatever sent out that resonance. Whatever it was, it’s old, and it’s active now. And I want to find it.” She took a breath. “Will you help me?”

  “And what exactly would you offer for my help,” I said, “if I knew what you were looking for?”

  “I can’t offer you coin,” she replied quickly, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “You study magic, don’t you?” I tilted my head. “Can you teach me?”

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  “I know entry-level harmonics. That’s a mandatory part of becoming an archivist.”

  I groaned softly. Then I slipped my coin pouch from my belt, tossed it at her feet, and nodded at it. “What you’re looking for is in there. It almost fried me when I touched it.” I rubbed my temple at the memory. “That’s also when it sent out that wave.”

  Ryn’s eyes went wide as she slowly knelt down to pick up the pouch. She picked it up like something sacred, not like the worn and dirty piece of leather that it was.

  “Be careful not to touch the disc inside. I only touched it with one finger and it almost knocked me out.”

  She snatched her hand back like the pouch was trying to bite her.

  “I’ll be careful.” Then she slowly untied the knot before she tilted it upside down, emptying it onto the grass.

  With the disc and my few schillings on the ground, she crouched down with her eyes on the disc. Golden, a bit smaller than the palm of my hand, inscribed with fine lines forming a crooked star surrounded by a circle of runes.

  Her voice sounded distant, like her mind was somewhere else. “This is odd. I’ve never seen inscriptions like these.“

  While she inspected the disc, I checked the head of my hammer. Still gummed up with monster brain. ”What do you mean you’ve never seen markings like these? Don’t you work with old stuff like this all the time?”

  She scoffed at that. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can read every dead language. Some of these could symbolise Tyren, the sun god.” She pointed at a section of the inscribed ring. “This looks like one of Narfas’ blessings. Which shouldn’t be possible. If this has more than one blessing, it should have torn itself apart.”

  I frowned at that. “Obviously it didn’t.”

  She looked at me with a little smirk. “Yes, obviously. If you help me get this to the archives in the Capital, we might find something to translate what the inscription actually says… and I promise to teach you the basics of harmonics on the way.”

  I crouched down as well to wipe the head of my hammer on the grass. “The capital? You mean the City of Velmorath?”

  She sounded almost offended: “Yes, I mean the City of Velmorath. We are in the Kingdom of Velmorath after all. I grew up there, and the Royal Archives are the largest library on the continent.”

  I couldn’t hold back a snort at that. “Girl, you’re far away from home. This is the badlands, nobody here cares which king they’re under.”

  She huffed. “My point about the library still stands. And if you want to learn magic, I’m your best bet.”

  I crouched beside her. “I didn’t mean to offend. Do you think it’s safe to touch? And has it infected my coins?”

  Ryn’s attention snapped to the coins on the ground. “I don’t think it affected the coins. As for whether it’s safe… that depends on what it actually is. Which I don’t know, I should add.” She swallowed, then went on more carefully. “Which means we should be careful with it.”

  I took the cloth my coins were wrapped in and used it to lift the disc, then slid it back into my coin pouch. Then I scooped up the coins from the grass and tucked them loosely into my bedroll.

  Ryn stared at the pouch like it might start pulsing again. “Whoa, you don’t just carry a relic. You carry a promise… one even the gods abandoned.”

  “Isn’t that a fun thing to hear,” I said as I tightened the knot on the pouch.

  Ryn tied her satchel shut with careful fingers, then followed me down the slope. She flicked her eyes between the trees and my belt. “You don’t have a small life anymore.”

  “All lives are small,” I grumbled. “Only water streams eternally.”

  Ryn blinked at me. Then, despite herself, she smiled. “That’s… surprisingly poetic for someone with monster brain in her hair.”

  I grabbed at my hair and felt the sticky chunks. “Great. Really great. The next water we come across, I’m gonna wash my hair in.”

  Ryn’s smile thinned into something more determined. “Fine. I’m coming with you.” She nodded at my belt. “Someone has to make sure you don’t drop the eternal water’s favourite relic on a rock.“

  “Comforting,” I muttered.

  The shrine disappeared behind the trees faster than it should have. One moment there was blue-stained stone between roots and moss. The next it was just trunks, shadows, and the faint impression that something had watched us leave.

  The pouch at my belt pulsed once. Then again. Softer now. Like it was listening.

  Ahead, the ground grew firmer. The trees thinned. Golden daylight spilled over the underbrush and the air began to smell less like wet stone and more like the pines.

  When we reached the road, I stopped for a heartbeat and listened.

  No howls. No growls that sounded like broken glas.

  Just the soft, patient thrum at my belt, steady as a metronome, waiting for the next song.

  Thanks for reading! Next chapter when it’s done. I usually post during a weekday breakfast break like a civilized gremlin.