Bex Penbrook's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

Bex found the cache two hours after dawn. The building sat at the edge of an abandoned mill, half-collapsed but still standing. She left the wagon in a stand of trees and approached on foot, one hand on the knife at her belt. The door hung crooked on its hinges. Inside, someone was already loading books into a canvas sack. A woman, maybe thirty, with mud-caked boots and a salvager's vest. She looked up when Bex's shadow crossed the doorway. "Cache is claimed," the woman said, not stopping her work. Bex's jaw tightened. "The collector sent me. Those books are mine." The woman reached into her vest and pulled out a folded parchment, its edges worn soft. She held it up so Bex could see the handwriting—the same shaky script from the map, the same teal ink. "Says here this location is as much mine as anyone's. Final lodging of the will, potency on each cache. The collector wanted these spread around, not hoarded." Bex stepped closer, reading the letter over the woman's shoulder. The words were real. The collector had sent others too. Her chest went tight with the realization that she wasn't the only one trusted with this work—and that every cache might already have someone else racing toward it. The woman folded the letter and tucked it away. "There's enough here for both of us. Split it fair, or fight over it. Your choice." Bex looked at the shelves, half-empty already, and made her decision. She pulled her own sack from her belt. "Fair split. But I catalog everything first." The woman nodded, and they worked in silence, dividing the books between them. When they finished, Bex walked back to her wagon with a dozen volumes and the knowledge that her promise was bigger than she'd thought—and that she couldn't do it alone. Outside, the woman was loading her share into a sleek red transport that hovered a foot off the ground, its chrome fins catching the morning light. The machine hummed softly, lift jets glowing teal beneath its belly. Bex watched her secure the last bundle and climb into the cockpit. The woman paused, one hand on the door. "There are three more caches marked on my copy. If you're going after them, move fast. Others got letters too." She didn't wait for an answer. The transport lifted higher and shot west, leaving only dust and engine heat. Bex stood alone with her books and a new truth she couldn't ignore—the collector had hedged her bets, and now Bex was racing strangers to save what remained. She'd have to choose which caches to chase and which to let go. The promise was already breaking in her hands.