That afternoon, Lara rode back with Liam, Persius, and Alia.
The vehicle rumbled steadily across the uneven terrain, its tires crunching over gravel and loose stone as the southern sector ca into view. Dust trailed behind them like a fading shadow, swallowed by the heat-heavy air.
Inside, no one spoke.
The silence wasn’t empty—it was thick, stretched tight with unasked questions and half-ford suspicions.
Lara sat still, her gaze fixed ahead, though she wasn’t really seeing the road. She was waiting—watching—for soone else to break first.
But no one did.
Persius leaned back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Liam kept his focus on the path ahead, jaw set, hands steady on the wheel.
And beside Lara, Alia sat unusually quiet, her fingers lightly gripping the edge of her seat.
Each of them was thinking the sa thing.
Just waiting for soone else to say it.
Alia drew in a slow breath, her lips parting as she finally gathered the courage to speak—
"We have arrived."
Liam’s voice cut through the silence, calm but firm.
The vehicle ca to a gradual stop.
But he didn’t look at the road.
His gaze shifted—to Alia.
There was sothing in it. Sothing asured. Searching.
Alia felt it imdiately.
"Are you staying or going back to the northern sector?" she asked.
"I need to go back. I still have so work to do." Liam replied his gaze still on Alia.
A flush crept up Alia’s face. She did not know why. Liam seed to be overly attentive to her lately.
"Take care, then." Alia said casually.
...
The southern sector was quieter than the rest of the site. The noise of excavation fading into a distant murmur.
Rows of bunkhouses stood under the afternoon sky, still and watchful, as if holding their breath.
And for a brief mont—
It felt like they had just crossed into a place where sothing unseen was waiting.
...
By the ti Alia pushed the door open of their bunk house, Liam had long been gone. The sun was about to set, painting the sky in fading gold and deepening purple.
The hum of distant machines working overti filled the silence, steady and low, like a heartbeat beneath the earth.
"Give a second," Alia said, already moving toward her bed.
Lara stepped inside, her eyes sweeping the room in a single, practiced glance.
It was sparse, but thoughtfully arranged for two occupants.
Twin beds stood on opposite sides of the narrow space, divided by a heavy curtain that could be drawn for a semblance of privacy.
Between them sat a slim desk, its surface just wide enough for a lamp and a stack of notes, while a tal cabinet stood against the wall—dull, utilitarian, and likely shared.
Every piece had its place, leaving little room for anything unnecessary, as if the space had been designed for function first, and comfort only as an afterthought.
The kitchen was small, and the dining table only seated two people.
Nothing was out of place.
Except—
Alia.
Sothing had shifted in her. The hesitant, careful girl from before was gone. In her place stood soone composed, her movents steadier—quieter, yet carrying an unspoken grace that felt almost... regal.
Lara watched her for a mont longer before leaning back against the wall, arms crossing loosely over her chest.
"You keep it organized."
Alia let out a small laugh as she dropped to her knees beside her bag. "You should’ve seen it this morning."
She unzipped it and began rummaging through stacks of notebooks, folders, and loose papers. For a mont, only the soft rustle of paper filled the room.
Then—
"Here."
Alia reached into a plastic case and carefully drew out a bundle of parchnts and scrolls.
They didn’t belong in a place like this.
Amid steel walls and synthetic light, they felt impossibly out of ti—aged, fragile, carrying a quiet weight that made everything else in the room seem temporary.
Lara’s gaze sharpened.
Alia hesitated before handing them over, her fingers lingering against the worn surface, as if reluctant to let go.
"This is just a replica, but almost the sa as the original," she said softly. "Grandpa kept the original sowhere safe."
Lara took one scroll carefully.
She touched it and felt a faint, familiar pull.
Like sothing calling her na from a great distance.
She opened it.
The scent of old ink and ti rose imdiately, subtle but unmistakable.
Inside were pages of carefully reproduced script—intricate symbols, flowing lines, a language that had no place in the modern world.
But to Lara—
It was unmistakable.
Her chest tightened.
"...You annotated this yourself?" she asked quietly.
Alia nodded, watching her closely. "Took weeks."
Lara turned a page. Then another. Her fingers slowed, then stopped.
There.
A passage she hadn’t seen before.
The ink was darker, as if pressed with more force. Urgent.
Deliberate.
Lara’s breath stilled as the words surfaced in her mind—not as sothing she read, but sothing she rembered.
A warning. Not a record. Not history.
A warning.
"...This part," Lara murmured, her voice lower now, edged with sothing unfamiliar. "You said you couldn’t translate it?"
Alia leaned in slightly. "Yeah. That section didn’t match anything I found."
Lara didn’t answer imdiately. She stood abruptly causing the chair to fall.
Alia flinched. "What—what is it?"
Lara looked at her. Really looked at her.
Not just Alia.
But what she represented.
What she carried.
"...This isn’t just genealogy," Lara said quietly.
Alia’s throat tightened. "Then what is it?"
"...Your grandfather was right about one thing," Lara said finally.
Alia held her breath.
Lara’s eyes darkened slightly, sothing ancient flickering beneath the surface.
"Your lineage didn’t just co from this place."
She paused.
Then—
"It leads back to the founding emperor of Azuverda."
The hum of the machines outside seed louder now.
Heavier.
Alia swallowed, her earlier excitent shifting into sothing sharper.
"...So we are really descendants of Emperor Kromwel? It is just not a myth handed down from our ancestors?" she whispered.
Lara didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
Because deep beneath them—
Sothing had already begun to stir.
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