The chilling mist within the dead apple orchard swirled aggressively as Zeven gestured toward the narrow stone opening situated at the base of a jagged ridge, guiding Lyra away from the open surveillance paths. The low-lying stone cavern offered a cramped, moisture-laden sanctuary that effectively shielded their biological signatures from the high-altitude infrared sweeps of any secondary laboratory reconnaissance drones. Inside, the damp air carried the familiar, heavy scent of calcified limestone, stagnant mountain groundwater, and the faint, bitter residue of dry rot from the nearby scorched root systems. Water droplets cascaded continuously from the low, jagged ceiling, creating a frantic, irregular rhythm as they struck the uneven rocky floor. Lyra quickly deactivated the primary trac
