The climb wasn't difficult, but it was quiet.
Adam and Serin moved in near silence along the path winding up the northeastern ridge—one of the few areas he hadn't yet explored in depth. The system had marked it as low priority initially: no visible structures, no major energy readings. Just a slow, subtle distortion in the background magicka field that Serin had noticed on a routine scan.
That alone was enough to make Adam curious.
They walked side by side beneath towering crystalline trees, their leaves gently chiming in the breeze. The trail steepened, and the higher they climbed, the stranger the terrain became. Stone outcroppings gave way to fractured plates of earth, and the light shimmered faintly—like the sun had to push through a thin veil of enchantment.
"Feel that?" Serin asked quietly.
Adam nodded. "Like the air's... charged."
Serin crouched, brushing a gloved hand along the soil. "This place has been touched by something. Not recent, but not ancient either. A wound that hasn't quite closed."
"You sound like you've done this before."
Serin glanced at him with a half-smile. "Instinct, more than experience. My memories are fragmented, but my intuition is intact. I've walked in places like this. Felt the shape of silence."
Adam raised an eyebrow. "That's poetic."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
They crested the final ridge, and the land leveled into a wide, circular plateau—completely hidden from view below. At its center, a deep depression cut into the rock, almost like a crater, though smooth-edged and unnatural. At the heart of it stood a half-buried structure.
Adam's system pulsed.
[UNKNOWN STRUCTURE DETECTED – NO MATCH FOUND][STATUS: INACTIVE. ENERGY PROFILE: DORMANT. CONTAINS ARCANE TRACE ELEMENTS.]
It wasn't big—maybe thirty feet in diameter, with a domed top and a series of angular protrusions that reminded Adam of both Stargate tech and ancient Sith temples. It was made from a dark, obsidian-like alloy laced with lines of etched metal that caught the light and reflected it wrong.
Not like a mirror.
Like a memory.
Serin stepped forward first.
Their gait was slow and deliberate, eyes scanning, hand resting lightly near the hilt of their sword.
"This wasn't built by your system," they murmured. "It doesn't respond to it."
"No," Adam said, watching his interface continue to stutter. "It's older. But not dead."
He stepped closer, reaching out with his magicka. A ripple passed through the air like a breath. The etchings on the structure flickered for a heartbeat—responding to the presence of life, or perhaps power.
Then a whisper.
Faint.
Not sound. Not words. Just… presence.
Serin's blade was half-drawn in an instant, their posture shifting subtly—not tense, but attentive. Like a wind had changed direction.
"I don't like this place," they said. "There's knowledge here. But it comes at a cost."
"You think it's dangerous?"
"I think," Serin said, "that if you open that thing unprepared, it will learn more about you than you learn about it."
Adam stared at the structure. He could feel it humming now, like it had woken up to his existence. Not malicious. But curious.
He took a slow breath and stepped back.
"Not today," he said. "Let's map it, set up a perimeter. Then we come back with a plan."
Serin nodded approvingly. "Caution suits you."
Adam raised an eyebrow. "That's not how I've usually been described."
"I wouldn't know," Serin replied, sheathing their blade. "But I do know that leaders survive by learning when not to reach."
As they made their way back down the ridge, Adam watched Serin move. Their balance was perfect, every footstep silent. They seemed completely in tune with the land around them—sensing terrain, ambient power, even the emotional temperature of their surroundings.
Yet there was a restraint to them too. A serenity.
"You're not what I expected when I saw 'Arcane Duelist' on your profile," Adam said after a while.
Serin gave him a side glance. "And what did you expect?"
"Flashy. Arrogant. Possibly shirtless."
That actually made Serin laugh—a quiet, unexpected sound that echoed lightly off the trees.
"I've known too many who burned out chasing power," they said. "Style is no substitute for survival. Power without control is just noise."
Adam nodded slowly. "You're good at this. Reading people."
"I had to be. Whoever built me—or… merged me—gave me more than just skill. They gave me purpose. Even if I don't know what that is yet."
"Well," Adam said, pausing as the sun broke through the canopy ahead, lighting the path home, "you've got one now."
Serin tilted their head, considering him. Then they gave the smallest nod.
"Then I will serve it well."
Back at the settlement, Adam updated the map, tagged the ridge site as Veil Crater, and issued a lockout until further study.
Whatever was in that crater wasn't going anywhere.
And neither was he.