The moon was high, almost reaching it's peak by the time Razel Acheon circled back to the greenhouse perimeter. His boots left no sound. His coat, lined with subtle enchantments, rustled only when he moved sharply.
He crouched near the stone base where he'd seen the first orb get buried.
The dirt was soft, but not freshly turned.
Whoever planted these had done so carefully.
He slid his fingers across the soil and summoned a faint circle — an Acheon-family scanning rune, designed to seek embedded magic essence pulses beneath surface material.
It lit up.
A ping.
There it was.
He pulled out a slender extraction knife, dug quickly, and retrieved it.
A small orb — polished black with thin silvery etch lines that glowed only faintly in his palm. Not enough to trigger an alarm or draw attention. But enough that his instincts screamed.
It looked like nothing but it felt like something.
Razel narrowed his eyes.
