The northern gate of Liran Hollow was nothing more than a wooden arch with a faded sign hanging from one side. The town did not have walls. It relied on its distance from the main roads to stay unnoticed. That suited Ravel and Seris well enough.
They stepped onto the packed dirt path that led between the first row of houses. Morning light drifted through open windows. A few chickens scratched at the ground beside a fence. The air smelled of fresh bread, smoke, and the damp scent of dew lifting off stone.
Ravel kept the sphere wrapped and tucked close against his chest. He lowered his head and tried to look like any other traveler walking through town. Seris kept her posture relaxed, though Ravel could tell she measured every movement around them.
A woman sweeping her porch glanced at them briefly. She gave a polite nod, the kind strangers gave in places too small to question every face. Seris returned the nod without slowing down.
Ravel whispered, "Do you think anyone here is connected to the Empire?"
"Unlikely. The Empire does not bother with towns that have nothing to offer."
"Then we should be safe."
"For a moment. Not for long."
They reached the main square. A stone well sat at the center, its rope coiled neatly beside it. A boy filled two buckets while humming a tune. The bakery across the square had its shutters open. Warm light spilled out and the smell of fresh loaves rolled into the street.
Seris pointed toward a small shop with a sign painted in chipping blue letters. "Supplies first."
Ravel followed her inside. A bell jingled as they entered. The shop was narrow but packed with shelves of dried goods, rope, flint, herbs, and tools. Behind the counter stood an older man with a gray beard and a careful smile.
"Morning to you," he said. "Travelers?"
Seris nodded. "Passing through. We need dried food, water skins, and a fresh map of the western trails."
The shopkeeper rubbed his beard. "Not many go west these days. The old quarry road is washed out. Folks say the cliffs are starting to shift again."
Seris lifted a brow. "Shift how?"
"Rockfall, mostly. Some say they hear rumbling at night. Probably nothing but wind, though."
Ravel felt a chill. The shrine was in those cliffs.
Seris said, "We will manage. Please gather what we asked for."
The shopkeeper moved to the shelves. Ravel tried to steady his nerves, but something felt wrong. Not in the shop. Not with the man. Something from outside.
A faint tremor from the sphere pulsed against his chest.
Seris glanced at him, eyes narrowing. "What is it?"
Ravel swallowed. "It feels tense. Like it is reacting to something."
"Hold it steady."
Ravel tried, but the tremor grew, soft but persistent.
The shopkeeper returned with the supplies. "That will be ten silver."
Seris paid quickly. She did not bother haggling, which told Ravel she felt the same unease he did.
They stepped out of the shop.
The air had shifted. Not visibly, but in weight. Ravel felt it across his skin, the way the forest air had felt just before the hunter showed itself. This was not the same sensation, but it had the same wrongness.
Seris scanned the square. "Something is near. Not the riders. Something else."
Ravel felt the sphere grow slightly warm.
A man approached them from the direction of the well. He wore simple clothing, nothing that suggested danger, but there was a fixed look in his eyes. Not hostile, but intense. Focused.
He stopped a few steps away. "Morning. Are you heading west?"
Seris stepped subtly in front of Ravel. "Why do you ask?"
The man hesitated. His gaze shifted to Ravel, not to his face, but to the area where the sphere was hidden beneath the cloth. His expression softened, almost with recognition.
"I felt something," he said quietly. "I am not sure how to explain it. A pull. Like a memory waking up. I have not felt anything like that in years. Not since the old shrine was still visited."
Seris stiffened. "You can sense it."
The man frowned. "Sense what?"
Ravel's heart pounded. He whispered to Seris, "What do we do?"
Seris answered without moving her lips. "Stay calm. He is not a threat. He does not know what he felt."
The man looked confused, almost embarrassed. "Forgive me. I must sound foolish. I only meant that the cliffs have been restless lately. Some say the old energies are stirring again. You should be careful if you go there."
Seris inclined her head. "Thank you. We will."
The man nodded and walked past them.
Ravel exhaled shakily. "He felt the sphere."
"Yes. He felt something close to it. People like that are rare, but not unheard of."
"Should we leave the town now?"
"Soon. I want an innkeeper's tale first. People in small towns always know more than they say."
Ravel tried to keep his worry hidden as they walked toward the small inn on the far side of the square. The sphere's warmth faded, then returned in slow waves, as if reacting to something distant.
They entered the inn. The common room was dimly lit with lanterns. Only two people sat at the tables, eating porridge. A stout woman with wide shoulders stood behind the counter. She eyed them with mild interest.
"Rooms or food?" she asked.
"Information," Seris said. "And perhaps food."
The woman leaned on the counter. "Information costs more than food."
Seris placed a silver piece on the wood. "We are headed toward the western cliffs. Rumors say the ground there is unstable. Can you confirm?"
The woman pushed the coin away. "Keep your money. If you are going to those cliffs, you need more than rumors. Strange sounds at night. Lights flickering between the stones. Fishermen from the river camped near there last week. They said the earth breathed."
Ravel blinked. "Breathed?"
"That is their word. Not mine."
Seris asked, "Has anyone gone missing?"
The woman paused. "Two. One wanderer and a shepherd. Folks think they fell into a crevice. But there was no body."
Ravel felt the sphere grow warm again.
The woman saw the slight twitch in his expression. "You still plan to go?"
Seris nodded. "We must."
"Then move before sundown. Whatever is stirring there gets bold when the dark settles."
They left the inn.
Ravel whispered, "If the cliffs are waking up, does that mean the shrine is too?"
"Yes. And whatever sleeps near the shrine will not enjoy being disturbed."
The sphere pulsed again.
Seris grabbed Ravel's arm. "We leave now. The longer we stay, the stronger the pull becomes, and others will feel it."
They walked quickly toward the northern road.
But as they reached the last house, Ravel felt a sudden rush of heat from the sphere. It struck like a wave, almost knocking the breath out of him. He stumbled.
Seris steadied him. "What is it?"
"It is reacting to something. Something close. Very close."
Seris's eyes snapped toward the town square behind them.
A shadow moved between the buildings.
Not large. Not fast. But wrong.
Ravel whispered, "Is that another fragment?"
"No. That movement was human."
"Then what did the sphere react to?"
Seris did not answer.
Because the shadow stepped into the open.
It belonged to a pale, gaunt man with ink stains on his fingertips and eyes far too focused for someone who had simply wandered out of a shop.
Ravel felt the sphere burn with recognition.
The man smiled quietly.
"I have been looking for that," he said.