By the time Riku emerged from the Hollow, night had stretched across the sky like cooled iron. No stars pierced the darkness—only the occasional rumble of heat from beneath the crust, deep within Ashedge's veins. His cloak was dusted with fungal motes, the edges damp from subterranean breath. The woven crown, still pulsing faintly at his side, seemed heavier now—not in mass, but in presence.
Kael waited near the ridge's rise, one boot pressed into the chalky slope, a torch in hand despite the natural glow of the fungal veins that lined the passage.
"You were gone longer than planned," Kael said, not accusing, just observing.
"I was received," Riku said.
Kael blinked once. "By what?"
"Not what. When." Riku didn't elaborate further. He adjusted the cloth bundle beneath his cloak and stepped onto the upper path that led back to Blackridge.
They walked in silence for a while. The terrain here was familiar but never safe—too many shifting pockets of heat and caverns too thinly crusted for weight. Sira joined them halfway up, emerging from the brush with a quiet nod, her twin knives sheathed but her posture alert.
"I counted four ash-crawlers near the southern ridge," she said. "Didn't approach. Just watched. They're either waiting for prey… or orders."
"They won't get either," Riku replied.
The three crested the ridge at last, and Blackridge rose into view. Lit softly now—fires dimmed for security, not comfort. Tents had shifted positions again; Kael's forge shelter had expanded, and the obsidian-cored barricades around the livestock pen gleamed faintly from the recent fire-root enhancements. The tower stood like a watchful eye over it all.
Even from this distance, Riku could see the newest addition: the flame-etched map of the crater basin, updated with scouted territories and marked supply routes. The chalk-laced symbols denoting non-sovereign encounters now dotted the southern third. Too many of them.
They descended quickly, moving past patrols and checkpoints. No one stopped Riku. They parted silently, respectfully—his presence both grounding and uncanny now. He didn't need a parade.
Inside the command shelter, two things awaited him.
First: the scout report. Handwritten, crisp.
Second: a wrapped shard of bone, placed in the center of the war table, as if it had carried itself there.
He read the report quickly—Sarn's unit had tracked three hollowed beasts traveling northeast, circling around rather than engaging. No wounds. No sign of feeding. Almost ritualistic. But more disturbingly: a message scrawled into volcanic bark, left behind where the beasts had stopped.
It read simply: "We remember the ones beneath."
Riku placed the paper aside, his brow lowering. He unwrapped the bone shard next.
It wasn't from one of their beasts.
The texture was wrong—porous like it had once belonged to something fungally infested but not destroyed. It had been cleaned. Etched.
On one side: a sigil in looping script. On the other: the unmistakable impression of a folded object—like it had once rested inside something shaped to it.
"Kael," Riku said without turning. "This was left in the forge, wasn't it?"
Kael, who'd entered behind him, exhaled slowly. "Wrapped in leather, sitting on the smelting table. No breach. No footsteps. Not even a disturbed ember. I checked the perimeter myself."
"It wasn't placed," Riku murmured. "It was… offered."
Silence settled again. The tent was still, but the walls felt closer.
The weight of the Hollow followed him here.
"It's starting," Sira said softly. "Whatever you found. It's not staying buried."
He looked down at the bone shard, then reached into his cloak. For the first time since leaving the Hollow, he unwrapped the crown.
It didn't glow now.
It didn't need to.
Kael stared. "Is that…"
"It's not for wearing," Riku said. "It's for remembering."
And he placed it beside the shard.
Instantly, the temperature in the tent dropped. Not with cold—but with clarity. Like air stripped of distraction. Every surface looked sharper, every sound more distinct. A hum rose—not mechanical, not fungal. A recognition.
The shard reacted.
Hairline cracks on its surface began to glow faintly. The symbol on it shimmered—only once—and stopped.
Riku didn't move.
He didn't need to.
Because he felt it.
Somewhere beneath them, beyond even the Hollow, something had stirred. A mechanism not of system or soil, but of intent.
The shard was a key.
The crown was a crest.
And together, they had activated something old.
Not hostile.
Not yet.
But aware.
Riku finally turned to Kael and Sira. "Tomorrow, we begin digging beneath the old root chamber. Past the fungal veins. Deeper than before."
Kael frowned. "That could collapse the eastern shelf."
"I know. Reinforce it with ventglass. Use the new shaped anchors we forged from the melted golem slag. If it shifts, I'll hold it myself."
"You're not going down there alone again," Sira said, her voice harder than usual.
Riku met her eyes. "I won't. But when I do go… it won't be to explore."
He turned back to the crown and bone shard, his hands steady.
"It'll be to answer."