The quarry lay east of Rivermarch, where the hills cut themselves open and let men carry the bones away. The miners had abandoned it months ago when rockslides became too frequent, but lately, livestock had been vanishing from nearby farms. The guildmaster’s slate had named it in plain letters: Investigation. Possible Rift. Higher Pay.

  Aanya hadn’t needed the promise of coin. The bracelet had already begun humming the moment she read the word quarry.

  The quarry was a wound in the earth, wide and steep. Ramps cut down in zigzags, half-collapsed scaffolding leaned against sheer walls, and the floor was a bowl half-filled with rainwater that stank of minerals.

  Umbra growled low as they descended.

  “Bad place,” Marin muttered, hefting her freshly reforged hammer across her shoulder. “Even the air’s got sharp edges.”

  Corin clutched his satchel like it might sprout wings and save him. “Stone remembers pressure,” he said, his voice too soft for comfort but too steady to ignore. “That’s what the texts say. Sometimes rifts choose places like this—where the earth already aches.”

  “Not helping,” Marin said.

  “Just saying,” Corin answered, though his eyes kept darting at the quarry floor.

  Aanya walked ahead, steady. The bracelet hummed faintly, pulsing like a second heartbeat.

  They reached the lowest ledge. There, along the quarry wall, the stone did not sit right. A jagged seam shimmered faintly, like heat mirage trapped in rock.

  “Rift,” Aanya said, no doubt in her tone.

  The seam pulsed—and split.

  Stone cracked outward as though birthed from its own ribs. From the opening crawled stone-lizards, scales fused with shale, eyes glowing like coals, claws grinding sparks as they dug into rock. Their movements scraped the air. The first hissed, and dust rattled down the wall.

  “Ugly,” Marin muttered, but her grip on the hammer was firm.

  Corin paled but managed to choke out, “Eyes—! They don’t tolerate brightness. If we blind them—”

  “They bleed like anything else,” Marin cut in, and charged.

  The first stone-lizard lunged. Marin’s hammer met it mid-air, cracking its jaw sideways. Shards scattered like gravel. But another scaled the wall and leapt at her back.

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  “Marin!” Aanya’s blade flashed, intercepting, sparks jumping as steel met rock-hard scales. The impact numbed her wrist, but the beast staggered, giving Marin room to swing again.

  A third beast came low, tongue darting. Umbra snapped onto its snout, small jaws clamping shut with surprising force. The lizard thrashed, smashing against stone, but the pup clung until Aanya severed its throat.

  Corin scrambled for his chalks, heart pounding. He sketched a quick circle on a loose shard, whispered the half-prayers scribes used to anchor attention, and struck flint. The shard caught light—far brighter than any candle—and reflected it like a mirror. He shoved it forward.

  The nearest lizard shrieked, eyes boiling white. It clawed at stone blindly, crashing into another. Both tumbled, thrashing.

  “Good!” Aanya shouted, kicking one aside and slashing into the opening Corin had made. The blade dug between glowing cracks in its scales, sinking deeper.

  Marin’s hammer smashed down again, driving another beast’s head into shale until it stopped moving. Her hair was plastered with sweat, her jaw clenched in fury. “Come on, then!” she roared, and for a moment, the quarry answered with more hissing.

  One beast skittered along the wall, faster, smarter. It leapt not at Marin or Aanya but straight for Corin. He froze—then ducked clumsily. The claws tore a strip from his satchel but missed his skin. Umbra slammed into its hind legs, buying Aanya the instant she needed to drive her sword through its chest.

  “Stay behind us!” Marin barked.

  “I’m trying!” Corin gasped, fumbling another chalk-shard. His hands trembled, but he forced it alight.

  The beasts regrouped—four left, circling, hissing. They darted in and out, forcing Aanya and Marin to spin constantly, never letting them rest.

  “Too many,” Marin panted. “Not like this.”

  The bracelet burned hot on Aanya’s wrist. She raised her sword higher, breath sharp. “We end it.”

  She tore the brass guild plate from her pouch—the one Kael’s devices had made centuries ago, passed down through the guild. It buzzed faintly, edges warm.

  “Cover me,” she ordered.

  Marin didn’t argue. She swung wide, forcing two beasts back, hammer cracking stone. Umbra darted in front of another, yapping furiously. Corin thrust his glowing shard into a lizard’s eyes, blinding it, though the effort left his arms shaking.

  Aanya pressed the plate against the jagged seam. The metal vibrated, pulsing with light. The rift bucked, trying to resist, but the plate fed its own resonance into the wound. The shimmer grew brighter—then shrank, collapsing inward like breath leaving a lung.

  The quarry shook. Stone-lizards screamed, writhing, their bodies cracking as if the rift’s tether had been their spine. One by one, they fell limp, lifeless. The seam sealed, leaving only scarred rock and silence.

  Aanya’s knees buckled. Marin caught her with one arm, hammer still in the other.

  “It’s done,” Marin said through ragged breaths.

  Corin slumped to the ground, clutching his satchel as though afraid it would vanish. “We… we closed it.”

  Umbra barked once, sharp and triumphant.

  The walk back up the quarry ramps felt longer than the descent. Sweat and dust clung to them, their steps heavy, but the air outside tasted cleaner.

  Back at the guild, the clerk raised her brows at their report, then at the proof of kills. “You’re alive,” she said, and pushed a heavy pouch of coin across the counter.

  “Barely,” Marin muttered, but her grin betrayed her pride.

  Corin stared at the coins as if they weren’t real. Then he touched one, held it in his ink-stained hand, and laughed shakily. “We did it.”

  “Not enough yet,” Aanya said, though she felt the warmth of hope stir. “But close.”

  The bracelet thrummed deep, heavy. She touched it absently, shivering at the memory of Radiarch’s pull. Victories like this were only steps. The real storm was still waiting.