Gritch Troublemaker wanted the one thing the gods of Mesa Prime guarded above all else. Their most sacred relic. He crouched behind a stone pillar at the temple's edge, counting guards and finding too many. Four at the stairs. Two more at the dark doorway. He had slipped past locks and dogs and angry farmers in his time. But nobody told him where the relic actually sat inside that huge stone building. Rooms branched into rooms. One wrong turn and a guard would skewer a goblin like a rat. He needed a map, or a mouth that knew the way. Blundering blind would get him caught before sundown. Gritch had heard the beggars talk. A woman who once served the temple now slept near the fruit garden past the outer wall. They called her the exiled priestess. Cast out, bitter, and poor. Gritch grinned. Bitter and poor people sold secrets cheap. He found her kneeling in a lush patch of plants, her robe torn and stained, picking berries with bandaged hands. A faded holy symbol still hung at her throat. She did not flinch when he stepped from the bushes. She only looked at him with tired, wary eyes. "A goblin," Mira Ashenvow said. "Here to rob them. Of course you are." She popped a berry into her mouth. "Everyone comes to me now that I'm nothing." "You know the temple," Gritch said. "You know where they hide the big shiny one. I pay." He shook a small pouch. Coins clinked. Mira stared at the pouch, then at her bandaged hands. Hunger moved across her face. "They threw me out with nothing," she said quietly. "After thirty years." She reached for the coins. Gritch pulled the pouch back. "Secret first." Her jaw tightened. For a moment he thought she would send him away. Then she spoke fast, like a woman cutting a rope. "The relic sits below, not above. There is a lower chamber beneath the altar. A hidden stair behind the carved beast with the eagle's head and the lion's body. Press the eye." Gritch's heart jumped. The carved gryphon. He knew that image. He tossed her the pouch. She caught it against her chest. "But you cannot walk in," Mira added. "The guards rotate at the ringing of the evening bell. That is your only gap. Miss it, and you die inside." Gritch backed toward the bushes, already picturing the carved beast and its stone eye. He had his path now. He had his gap. Then Mira stood, brushing dirt from her ragged robe. "One more thing, goblin." Her tired eyes sharpened. "When they find the relic gone, they will know someone told you. There is only one person left alive who still knows that stair." She looked at him. "So I am coming with you. Whether you like it or not." Gritch froze. He had wanted a map. Now the map wanted to follow him inside.

Gritch had his gap and his guide. Now Mira Ashenvow told him the thing that soured it all. She crouched beside him in the dark garden, her torn robe snagged on a thorn. "A hound guards this path at night," she whispered. "Big. Trained to howl, not bite. It will scream before you touch the gryphon statue." Gritch spat. Guards he could dodge. A noisy dog would wake the whole temple. He studied the path. Fruit bushes lined it. Stone glowed pale ahead. He could not run past a dog. He could not outrun its voice. But Gritch never traveled alone. He slid a hand into his ragged coat and tapped twice against his chest. Shadow bled out from his collar. It rose and thinned into a tall, ruined shape, hollow-eyed, trailing smoke where its feet should touch the ground. Mira jerked back. Her hand went to the holy symbol at her throat. "What is that thing?" "Mine," Gritch said. "Keeps quiet. Fights quiet." He pointed down the path. "Dog comes, you eat the sound." The wraith drifted forward without a whisper. Gritch followed low along the bushes. Mira came behind, close to his heels now, her fear of the dog smaller than her fear of the shadow. The hound found them near the halfway mark. It stepped from between two pillars, ears up, chest already swelling for a howl. Gritch froze. The first note broke loose, high and sharp. The wraith moved. It poured over the dog like spilled ink. The howl died in the hound's throat. Its paws scrabbled at smoke it could not grip. The thing's hollow eyes flared green. In three breaths the dog sagged, silent, and slumped against the stone, chest still rising. Not dead. Just quiet. Gritch grinned wide. "Good boy," he whispered. The wraith thinned and slid back into his coat. Mira stared at the sleeping hound, then at Gritch. "You planned that." "Always plan," he said. He hurried to the carved beast at the path's end. Eagle head. Lion body. The stone eye sat deep in its socket. He pressed it hard. A grinding sound rolled up from below. A seam cracked open behind the statue, revealing the top of a dark stair. But the hound's one broken howl had carried. Light bloomed inside the temple doorway. Voices called. Boots struck stone. Mira grabbed his arm. "They heard. Not the alarm bell, but enough. They'll search the garden now." Gritch looked at the open stair, then at the torchlight swelling behind them. The patrol was gone, the path was open, but the guards were already awake and coming. He had minutes, maybe less, before they swept down into the lower chamber too. "Then we go now," he hissed, "and we go fast." He dropped onto the first step. The dark swallowed his feet. Behind him, the voices grew louder.