Ol’ Man Croaker's Arc

Chapter 10 of 12

The side passage was narrower than the main route, forcing them to move single file. Croaker held the torch forward and watched the flame bend in a draft coming from somewhere ahead. The air smelled different here — older, wetter, like stone that had been sealed for generations. The tunnel opened into a small chamber with a stone pedestal at its center. A gemstone sat in an iron cradle, glowing faintly with amber light that pulsed like a heartbeat. Croaker stopped, his torch trembling. Before he could speak, Stryker stepped past him and lifted the gem from its holder. The glow dimmed in her hands. Croaker felt relief flood through him — they'd beaten the cult to it. But Stryker turned and walked back the way they'd come without a word. Croaker followed, confused, until they reached the barricaded entrance. Stryker pushed the iron bar aside. Outside, hooded figures waited in silence. One handed her a rolled scroll. She gave them the gem. Croaker's throat tightened as he understood. She'd known where it was all along. She'd used his map, his stories, his need to believe the legends were real — just to find what her grandmother had promised to deliver forty years ago. The figures vanished into the trees. Stryker tucked the scroll into her pack and looked at him with something close to regret. "The curse ends with me," she said quietly. Croaker said nothing. He'd spent his whole life protecting stories. He hadn't realized someone else might use them as tools.