The next morning came softly… not with sunlight, but with the slow glow of the blue flame that burned in the center of the cavern.
It pulsed gently, as though it breathed with the mountain itself. The air was cool and damp, smelling faintly of ash and mineral water.
Braxton stirred first. He sat on the stone ledge that served as his bed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around. The Nhyrax village was already alive.
The sound of soft chatter echoed through the tunnels… women carrying woven baskets filled with pale roots, children chasing one another barefoot across the smooth rock floor, men sharpening spears made from volcanic bone.
For a moment, Braxton just watched them. There was peace here, a rhythm that felt almost sacred… but beneath it, something else lingered. The pa
