Page 5

“I knew it wasn’t a myth,” Bowen breathed, awe threading through his voice as he moved toward the altar.

We all had our reasons for being here, but Bowen’s was steeped in obsession, driven by the need to leave his mark on history.

His father had been a renowned treasure hunter, amassing wealth and relics from some of the farthest kingdoms, delivering artifacts steeped in magic to kings and ancient scrolls to scholars.

But long shadows were the hardest to walk in. And stepping out of them took time and grit.

In a way, Bowen and I weren’t so different.

He was chasing his legacy while I was trying to restore my family’s.

Both of us were struggling to prove ourselves while standing in the shadow of someone who came before.

And after searching for so long, this moment felt like a dream.

I was certain I’d wake to find us camped under the stars after another failed mission.

But this was real.

A moment of triumph, laced with the bittersweet truth that this life I’d built was ending. It should have felt more freeing. Instead, it was like stepping out of one shadow only to find four familiar ones still attached to my heels.

Forcing a smile, I clapped Reid on the back as he made quick sketches of the treasure room inside his notebook.

“Make sure to draw my good side, Reid. If I'm going to be immortalized, it should be from the left,” I joked, peering over his shoulder at his sketch.

He'd taken to drawing each of us, documenting our journey. My favorite was one of all of us standing at the top of a peak, arms slung over each other's shoulders, the wind whipping through our hair, and the sun beating down on our backs.

Somehow, Reid had managed to capture our spirit.

His pencil flew across the page now as he outlined Cass in front of a pillar. She rubbed a leafy vine between her fingers, then lifted a crimson flower to her nose, her eyes drifting shut on a deep inhale.

Leaving Reid to his drawings, I explored the treasure room. Soft strains of haunting music flowed through the muggy air, and I ground my teeth, determined to find its origin.

I wandered toward a statue. A beastly expression had been carved into the stone as if it stood guard over the treasure, ready to thrash anyone who got too close.

I eyed it warily. Some treasures were protected by sorcery, or worse, a hex. I hadn't come this far just to awaken a vengeful god or suffer a curse. I could see it now: Marin Nichols gave the possessed statue a funny look, and now her soul is trapped forever behind its stony exterior.

Eternal guardians were the worst.

I gave the statue a wide berth and followed the music, stepping over a tangle of vines to examine an open sarcophagus.

Instead of holding an ancient skeleton, the tomb was filled with white sand.

I sifted my fingers through the fine grains.

It reminded me of the sand outside my family home, warm to the touch and so soft, it felt like walking on a shifting cloud.

Something sparkled, catching my eye. I brushed away the sand to find a relic buried beneath the surface. The air changed, smelling of brine and driftwood, and the music grew louder.

A bead of sweat rolled down my chin and dripped into the sand. My heart beat wildly, unnerved by the tune thrumming across my nerve endings.

With careful fingers, I removed an ornate hair comb and held it up in the flickering torchlight. A scalloped seashell sat nestled among an intricate bed of shining pearls and gold coral filigree. At the back, a glittering fan of rough-cut amethyst stones was bound to a silver comb.

Treasure rooms often held multiple artifacts, but nothing in our research had mentioned a jeweled hairpiece. The find was unexpected. It felt distinctly out of place, as if it belonged in the crown of a mermaid, not buried in a cave in the heart of the jungle.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. There was something about it. The comb was delicate, but it felt heavy with concealed enchantment. I ached with the urge to reach back and place it in my hair.

“What did you find?” Gavin’s question startled me from my trance.

I dropped the comb into the sand as if it had burned my skin. The music ceased, leaving me hollow and trembling.

“A jeweled hairpiece.” I curled my fingers into my belt to keep from reaching for it again. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Like it came from the sea.”

He brushed his thumb over the seashell. “You should take it. The piece suits you.”

An odd rush of longing flowed through my veins, but I forced myself to look away. “You know my rules. ”

Gavin studied me for a moment, then nodded. “You never take more than what you came for, and you always give something back.”

“You anger the treasure gods at your own risk.” Breaking through the last of my daze, I bumped his shoulder and playfully drew an X in the sand near the comb.

He shook his head, his tone teasing, but there was a warmth I could almost mistake for admiration. “You’re the only thief I know with morals. No one else would think twice.”

I delved into the satchel at my waist to find the piece of sea glass I always carried.

It was a small token, collected from the beach in front of my abandoned home.

My father used to say sea glass held magical powers.

An object not born of the sea, but changed by it, shaped, smoothed, and transformed by forces beyond its control.

And I believed him.

For as long as I can remember, I've had an affinity for the pale-colored glass. Whenever I touched it, I felt something stir like a current moving just below the surface. As if the sea's magic lived inside, and it was simply waiting. That energy brought me balance. A sense of peace.

The day we’d left our home, my father had placed a pile of sea glass on the stone steps, a quiet offering in the face of what we'd lost. I didn't understand it at the time, but the memory stayed with me.

Now, I leave sea glass in the place of each treasure, whispering the ocean's blessing he taught me. I like to think I'm giving back a little of the magic I take.

“It’s important to respect the trade,” I said softly.

“I believe it’s what separates us from the vultures.

I never want to lose sight of that. Besides—” I cocked my head and used his shirtsleeve to brush the last bit of sand from my fingers.

“I’m not a thief. I leave that designation to you. You’re the expert.”

“True,” he said with a wry smile. “I am exceedingly skilled, in more ways than one.” He captured my hand, running calloused fingers over my knuckles, and tugged me closer. “But there are a few things I haven’t been able to steal.”

I let out a mocking gasp, the sound shallower than I'd intended. “Maybe you aren’t as skilled as you think. Maybe you lack what it takes. Maybe—”

His head dipped, our temples brushing as his voice lowered to a hushed whisper. “Maybe you’re as blind as those bats you’re so scared of.”

I swallowed hard. My teasing response died in my throat.

“Um, guys! We have a problem,” Cass’s anxious shout echoed through the chamber. I tore my hand from Gavin’s before I had to look too closely at the way my heart was thudding inside my chest.

“What happened?” Bowen asked as he secured the treasure chest in his pack and stepped off the altar.

“They happened.” Cass jabbed her thumb toward the hole we’d crawled through, the one connecting the treasure chamber to the rest of the cave.

“It’s the band of marauders we dodged earlier.

They caught up and found the tunnel.” Cass twirled the end of her ponytail around her finger and cast an innocent gaze to the ceiling.

“Probably because I was the last one up and, uh… forgot to untie the rope on the rock slab. Dead giveaway. But let’s not dwell or assign blame for things we can’t change. ”

Reid folded his arms across his chest and muttered, “And you guys think I’m the weak link in the group. That honor belongs to the plant princess over there. ”

Cass snarled. “Anyway. They know we’re here. One of them flashed a light through the tunnel. And I heard them talking. What do we do? We can’t go back that way.”

Bowen slung his pack over his shoulders and peered into the tunnel. He cursed under his breath. “No, we can’t. But they won’t come through either. It's too narrow to strike an offense. Whichever side goes through first would be at a disadvantage.”

“So we’re stuck.” Reid pulled the spectacles from his face and nervously wiped the lenses on the hem of his shirt. “They can wait us out for as long as they want, days, even.”

“You mean let us starve to death?” Cass asked.

Reid replaced his spectacles. “Oh no, princess. We’ll die of thirst long before that.”

“You’re a fountain of knowledge. No, wait. I'd prefer a fountain over you right now. And stop calling me a princess!” Cass growled and began pacing the floor.

Reid shrugged. “It's just biology.”

Gavin raised both hands. “Hold on. Let’s think for a second. Bowen's right, they won't crawl through. We've got time. We won't die of thirst today. We just need to come up with a plan. There might be another way—”

A sharp whistle echoed through the shaft. One of the marauders shouted something in another language, then a cylindrical object clattered into the tunnel, bouncing off the walls before rolling to a stop near Bowen's feet.

We stared at it for a heartbeat, as if none of us moved, it might disappear.

It did not disappear. It hissed.

Then it ignited.