Night eased into the cavern village the way dusk settles over a quiet field—soft, slow, almost tender. The fire in the center of the chamber crackled low, sending warm light trembling across the stone walls. The villagers moved calmly between tasks: carrying baskets, tending stews, guiding children away from the flames.
It was peaceful.
Almost too peaceful.
Zelene wrapped chilled fingers around the warm cup of tea given to her by one of the women. The air inside the cave was pleasantly warm, but her nerves were not. Nonetheless, she offered the woman a grateful smile before taking a cautious sip.
The tea tasted earthy, mint trailing at the end.
Finn was already halfway through his cup.
"Mmh. Not bad."
"Drink slowly," Corvin murmured, lowering his voice. "We should be careful."
Finn blinked, swallowed too fast, then nodded sheepishly.
"Right. Slow. Careful. Got it."
Ray sat on a low stone ledge a short distance away, still within reach but keeping a quiet watch over everything. He wasn't glaring or stiff, just… observant. The way a hunter might watch a clearing—calm, patient, a little too still.
The children dancing near the fire drew Zelene's eye. They moved in circles, little feet tapping rhythmically. But the rhythm was oddly precise. Coordinated. Like a dance they practiced often and took seriously.
"Is… that normal?" Zelene whispered.
Corvin followed her gaze.
"For village traditions? Possibly."
"But they're not missing a beat," she replied softly. "Even the younger ones. That's… rare, right?"
He hummed—thoughtful, not dismissive.
A woman approached them then, elderly but spry, her expression warm. Stone beads glimmered in her braided hair.
"You must be tired from your climb," she said kindly. "We've prepared a room for you to rest. The night here can be colder than you expect."
Ray inclined his head. "Thank you."
As she turned to leave, Zelene felt a faint light brush the edge of her vision. A soft blue shimmer from deeper in the cavern. Like a lantern briefly lit behind a rock.
She blinked.
And it was gone.
"Did any of you see that?" she asked quietly.
Corvin shook his head.
"See what?"
"…Never mind."
She didn't want to sound nervous over nothing.
Not yet.
---
The sleeping chamber was surprisingly comfortable. Smooth stone walls, lanterns hanging from hooks, soft furs spread generously across the floor. It smelled faintly of pine and smoke.
Zelene sank onto the nearest pile of furs and unfastened her boots. "I feel like my feet are about to fall off."
Finn collapsed dramatically beside her. "I'm already dead. Just bury me here."
"You're not sleeping yet," Ray said flatly.
Finn groaned.
Corvin checked the entrance once, then lowered his voice.
"They were very quick to deny knowing anything about the Cerulean Auryn."
Ray nodded.
"Too quick."
Zelene tugged her cloak tighter.
"I felt it too. Their faces changed for half a second. Like they knew what I was going to ask."
"Or like they were prepared for it," Corvin added.
Finn sat up. "So they do know him?"
Zelene hesitated before answering.
"I think… they know something."
Ray's gaze flicked to the blue-flickering lantern flame.
"And they're not telling us."
No one ate or drank more after that.
They settled on keeping watch in shifts.
--
Zelene tried to rest.
She lay back on the furs, listening to the muffled crackle of the fire from the main chamber, to Ray's slow breathing, to the faint whisper of wind threading through unseen tunnels.
But the more she tried not to think, the more alert she felt.
Something tugged at her mind.
Soft as breath.
…listen…
Her eyes opened.
Ray was still awake, leaning against the wall, blade within reach.
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.
Zelene pressed a hand to her chest.
"I… thought I heard something."
Corvin sat up immediately.
"A person? Footsteps?"
"I'm not sure." She moved closer to the doorway, though she didn't step out. "It felt like… like someone calling."
Finn wrapped his blanket around himself like armor.
"Calling from where?"
She didn't answer.
Because the whisper came again—gentle, nearly melodic, like wind brushing the rim of a glass.
…this way…
Zelene's pulse jumped.
Ray stood.
"Zelene."
"I'm not leaving the room," she repeated softly. "I just… wanted to make sure I wasn't imagining it."
Corvin moved behind her, steady but not crowding her. Finn hovered behind Corvin, making a noise that was meant to sound brave but did not.
A faint glow flickered in the corridor.
Blue.
Soft.
Barely there.
And then it disappeared.
Leaving only shadows.
Zelene exhaled a shaky breath.
Corvin said quietly, "Someone is reaching out to us."
Ray's jaw tightened.
"And it's not these villagers."
Zelene didn't answer.
She just stared at the darkened corridor as if it were staring back.
Her heart whispered a name she wasn't ready to say aloud.
Cerulean.
---
The Village at Midnight
They didn't go wandering.
They didn't risk it.
But they stayed awake.
Listening.
Time passed—slowly, gently—and yet something changed in the air beyond their door.
The village no longer sounded cheerful.
Voices rose here and there.
A muffled argument.
Someone sobbing.
A child being hushed too sharply.
Strange, for a place that welcomed them with smiles and warmth.
Ray moved closer to the door.
"They're upset about something."
"Or someone," Corvin murmured.
Zelene's eyes drifted toward the deepest tunnels.
Toward the shadows where blue light had flickered.
Somewhere far inside the stone, the glow pulsed again—faint, distant, like a heartbeat muffled under layers of rock.
Not threatening.
Not calling this time.
Just…
There.
Waiting.
And Zelene wondered, with a tremor of something she couldn't name—
Was the Cerulean hiding from the villagers?
Or
were the villagers hiding him?