CORVUS

Chapter I

“Tell me again why we couldn't go somewhere normal.”

The question emerged more weary than sarcastic, which was a tragedy because sarcasm had been the only thing carrying me through this hike.

I tightened my grip on my backpack strap and stepped over a gnarled root twisting across the forest floor like a dormant snake. My cropped top and cargo pants offered zero defense against the oppressive humidity, despite the fact that I’d shoved my scarlet hair into a high ponytail. Every movement tugged at muscles I hadn’t realized were aching. Three hours of trekking through uneven woodland while the summer sun attempted to roast me alive had consequences.

Who would've thought?

A low-hanging branch snagged my sleeve. I jerked free with considerably less dignity than I preferred. Somewhere behind me, a sharp, jagged laugh erupted.

“Normal is boring,” Vex said.

There it was. The grin.

I looked over my shoulder. Vex Corvian looked entirely too pleased with himself for someone responsible for our current predicament. With his raven-black hair messy and a smirk permanently etched onto his face, he looked like he’d just successfully convinced a cat to take a bath. He wore a plain shirt and tapered hiking pants, looking annoyingly functional while I felt like a wilted piece of lettuce.

This entire expedition was his fault. Well, not entirely. Fiaren had expressed a desire to see the falls before summer ended, and Rowan had immediately agreed because photography was, in his mind, a perfectly reasonable excuse to spend half a day wandering through a wilderness.

But Vex had been the deciding vote.

Vex possessed an extraordinary talent for making terrible ideas sound irresistible. I genuinely believed he could persuade people to walk willingly off a cliff if he smiled hard enough.

“You say boring like it's a bad thing, but it's not a bad thing,” I countered. “Being bored means you're comfortable. Being comfortable means you're safe. Being safe means you're alive.”

“That sounds miserable.” I stared at him, dead-eyed.

“See? This is exactly why I don't trust your judgment.”

“But you trust me all the time,” Vex countered, his eyes dancing.

“I literally don't.”

“You came on this trip.”

“Against my will.”

“You voted yes.”

“Because Fiaren gave me that look.”

“That's still a yes.”

I hated that he had a point. I hated even more that he always managed to seize the last word. The smug bastard’s grin widened, confirming my suspicion. I rolled my eyes so hard it actually hurt.

The difference between us was infuriating. My hair stuck to the back of my neck in damp clumps. My shirt had long since surrendered to the humidity, clinging to my skin. My legs felt as though they'd been personally cursed by every deity in existence. Vex, however, seemed unaffected. He wasn't fresh—nobody was—but he was functional.

I suspected witchcraft. Or blackmail. Or some other equally suspicious explanation.

“There she goes again,” Rowan said from somewhere behind us.

I frowned. “Went where?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you're contemplating murder.”

“I contemplate murder frequently.”

“I know.”

“Comforting,” Fiaren added. Her voice was a cool stream in the middle of a desert. “The two of you are really similar, from your appearance to your personality. At first, I thought you were twins. Both are annoyingly sarcastic.”

I glanced toward her. Unlike the rest of us, Fiaren looked peaceful. The heat didn't seem to touch her; the hike didn't seem to rattle her. Her straight blonde hair flowed freely down her back, and she wore long sleeves that somehow seemed to provide more air than a tank top.

Nothing ever seemed to bother her. It was frustrating. If the world ended tomorrow, Fiaren would probably watch the apocalypse arrive with mild curiosity and a polite smile. I admired that. I also feared it.

“You're all insane,” I informed them.

“So are you,” Rowan replied.

“We're your friends.”

“Same thing.”

That earned a laugh, even from me.

The forest stretched endlessly around us, a cathedral of towering trees that blocked most of the sky. Their branches wove together in a canopy thick enough to cast the trail in shifting, bruised shadows. Shafts of sunlight occasionally slipped through the leaves, scattering gold across the loam before vanishing. The air tasted of damp earth, moss, and warm stones baking beneath the afternoon heat. Cicadas shrieked in a rhythmic, deafening pulse. Somewhere deeper in the green, water rushed over rock.

We were getting closer. Finally.

I exhaled slowly. Despite the complaining—and there had been a mountain of it—I felt a small, traitorous smile tug at my lips.

The four of us had spent nearly every summer together since we were children. It had simply happened. One year turned into two; two turned into five. Now we were seventeen and eighteen, standing on the precipice of adulthood while pretending the world hadn't shifted beneath our feet. Every summer became another desperate excuse to hold on to what remained.

One more trip. One more adventure. One more story to laugh about when we were old and gray.

I wasn't stupid. I knew this wouldn't last. Soon, university would scatter us across different cities. We would meet new people and build lives that didn't involve each other. The thought settled like a cold stone in my chest. Maybe that was why I’d agreed to this ridiculous trip. It had nothing to do with the waterfall, the legends, or Vex’s idiocy. I just wanted one more memory before everything changed.

The sound of rushing water grew louder, transforming from a distant hum into a roar.

“Finally,” Rowan breathed.

I glanced back to see him adjust the camera hanging from his neck for the hundredth time. The device might as well have been a fifth limb. If the world ended tomorrow, Rowan would stop to take a picture of the fireball first. Then he'd die. But at least the photos would be high-resolution.

“We're not even there yet,” I said.

“I can hear it.”

“You could hear it an hour ago.”

“That was different.”

“It literally wasn't.”

“It was spiritually different.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don't know.”

“Then stop talking.”

Rowan looked offended; Vex looked delighted. I stared at them fondly while Fiaren laughed softly.

The trail began to slope downward, loose stones shifting beneath our boots. The trees thinned, and sunlight splashed across the path in brilliant, blinding streaks. My shoulders relaxed. The air grew cooler, the scent of spray and wet stone filling my lungs. I would have gladly kissed the nearest air conditioner.

A few yards ahead, the trees finally broke apart. Light spilled through the clearing in dazzling sheets. My pace quickened, excitement curling unexpectedly in my stomach. As much as I complained, there was still something primal and magical about discovering a place you'd never seen.

The ground beneath my boots trembled faintly. Then, the waterfall exploded from the cliffside. It was a torrent of white and silver, crashing down hundreds of feet into a vast, churning basin. Mist rose from the impact, drifting through the air like ghost-smoke. Sunlight caught the spray and fractured it into a thousand gold fragments. The cliff towered above us, immense and ancient, its stone face carved by centuries of relentless water.

It was beautiful.

For once, nobody spoke. Even Vex was silent.

That alone should have warned me that something was wrong.

“Wow,” Rowan finally whispered. The word was nearly swallowed by the roar of the falls, but we all heard it.

I swallowed hard. “Yeah."

The response felt inadequate. How do you describe a place that looks like it belongs inside a dream? Fiaren stepped forward, her eyes reflecting the glittering water.

“It's even prettier than the photos.”

I nodded. Photos never captured the scale, the vibration in the air, or the feeling of standing in front of something enormous and realizing how insignificant you really were.

A laugh escaped Vex.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“That's a lie.”

“Okay, fine. I just think it's funny.”

“What is?”

“We almost didn't come.”

I groaned. “There it is.”

“There what is?”

“The part where you make this about yourself.”

“It is about me!” Vex pointed a finger at me. “I found the legend. If not for me, none of you would be here.”

“I was literally forced.”

“You voted yes.”

“Under emotional duress.”

Fiaren snorted. “For once in your life, can you stop arguing?”

Vex pointed dramatically toward her. “But you witnessed it too! She voted yes, yes?”

Fiaren just shrugged and walked away, leaving Vex to blabber his nonsense.

I looked away before he could become any more insufferable, letting my gaze wander across the cliffside. At first, I saw only grey stone. Then, something caught my eye. I blinked and looked again. My stomach tightened.

“What is that?”

The words left my mouth before I could filter them. The others turned immediately.

“What?” Rowan asked.

I pointed. I noticed how quickly Fiaren's smile vanished.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Now that I'd seen it, I couldn't unsee it. Shapes emerged from the stone. Not natural formations or random cracks, but lines, angles, and patterns. A broken pillar jutted from the cliff face, half-buried beneath rock. Further up, fragments of a wall stretched across the exposed surface before disappearing beneath the remaining water.

Rowan stepped closer, observing the weathered carvings twisting across the stone.

“It looks like an ancient text,” he murmured.

My pulse quickened. The ruins looked as though an entire city had been swallowed by the mountain centuries ago—or perhaps the mountain had swallowed the city. I wasn't sure which possibility unsettled me more. Rowan was already reaching for his camera.

“I don't think those were visible last year.”

“Obviously,” Vex said.

“No, I mean it.” Rowan’s voice sounded different—sharp, excited. “I researched this place before we came. There shouldn't be ruins here.”

The statement settled heavily between us. I stared at the fragments of stone emerging from the lowered waterline, remnants of something ancient enough that nature had almost erased it. A strange feeling stirred in my chest. The ruins felt wrong. It felt as if we had accidentally stumbled across a secret that had been sleeping beneath the waterfall for centuries.

A chill crawled up my spine. For the first time since we'd arrived, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching us from behind the falling water.

I tried to ignore it. I succeeded, at first.

We found a flat area near the basin and spent the next few hours in our usual rhythm. Rowan disappeared every few minutes to hunt for the perfect angle. Fiaren settled beneath a tree with a book she occasionally forgot to read because Vex kept interrupting her. Vex spent most of his time making our lives difficult.

The ruins remained visible, and I caught myself glancing at them more often than I should have. There were reasonable explanations. Archaeologists discovered forgotten civilizations all the time. But the ruins continued to stir something inside me. I kept the thought to myself. I knew exactly how the conversation would go.

Ceren thinks the waterfall is haunted, you guys!

Vex would never let me hear the end of it.

By the time sunset arrived, I had almost convinced myself I was imagining things. The sky bled gold across the horizon, staining the cliffside with warm, honeyed light. Shadows stretched across the basin, and the temperature finally dropped.

I stood and brushed dirt from my shorts. “I'm going to walk around.”

Rowan didn't look up from his camera. “Don't fall off anything.”

“That's only happened once.”

“It happened three times.”

“I think today’s my lucky day.”

“Ceren.”

“I'm leaving now.”

Fiaren laughed while Vex raised a hand. “If you discover buried treasure, remember who believed in you.”

“You didn't believe in anything.”

“I believed in treasure.”

“Goodbye, Vex.”

I walked away before he could continue. The farther I moved from the campsite, the louder the waterfall became. Mist drifted through the air, cool against my skin.

The ruins looked different now.

The setting sun had shifted behind the cliffs, casting long, skeletal shadows across the stone. Carvings that had been invisible earlier emerged from the darkness. I climbed carefully across a cluster of rocks near the edge of the basin.

Then I stopped. For a moment, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. A faint silver glow flickered behind the waterfall. I blinked, and the glow vanished. My shoulders relaxed.

See? Nothing.

It was just the sunlight, I told myself, and I turned away. When the glow returned, I froze.

Slowly, I looked back. This time, it remained. A pulse of silver light shone from somewhere behind the rushing curtain of water. My stomach tightened. Light reflected strangely all the time. Water distorted things. Shadows played tricks. I stared for nearly a minute, waiting for the glow to disappear.

It didn't. Instead, it grew brighter.

The silver light slipped through the water, illuminating a section of the cliff that should have been hidden. Then, the water shifted.

I saw a smooth, metallic surface hidden behind the falls. Perfectly vertical.

My heartbeat stumbled.

A door.

I immediately rejected the thought. Why would a door be inside a waterfall? I rubbed my eyes, then looked again.

The silver surface remained. The logical part of my brain desperately searched for an explanation—a metallic mineral deposit, a prank, a hallucination.

Then a voice whispered behind me.

“You've taken long enough.”

I spun around. No one was there. My friends were far away, small figures against the golden basin. I swallowed hard.

Okay, I’m high as f**k. It must be the coffee. Or exhaustion.

I took a step backward, but the silver glow intensified. I took another step, and the ground trembled.

I froze. For a split second, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, I felt something seize my wrist.

My entire body jerked forward.

“What the—”

The rest of the sentence never left my mouth. Suddenly, the world blurred. I couldn't see a thing. I was ripped off my feet, terror exploding through my chest. The waterfall rushed closer, a wall of crashing silver. I clawed at the rocks, my fingers slipping on the wet stone, but I missed. The force dragged me across the ground as if I weighed nothing.

Pain shot through my shoulder.

“CEREN!”

The scream echoed across the basin.

“Rowan! Help!”

I twisted around. All three of them were running toward me, their faces twisted in horror. For the first time since I'd seen the silver door, I stopped wondering if I was imagining things. The three could see it too. And whatever had grabbed me wasn't letting go.

Lucky day, indeed.