Petra spread the three maps across her work table, fingers trembling as she aligned the edges. The pottery fragment she'd bought yesterday matched the symbols in all three texts. Not close. Not similar. Exact. One of her phantom locations was real. She pressed her palms flat against the table to steady herself. The vase sat between two trade route maps like a judge. Its markings showed a water source thirty miles northwest, right where her calculations said the lost settlement should be. If she was right, she could build her trading post there. Supply the adventurers who'd rush to explore it. Make enough to secure a permanent border foothold. But if word got out now, someone with deeper pockets would beat her to it. Petra wrapped the vase in cloth and tucked it under her cot. Through the tent flap, she could see three fortune-seekers arguing near the well. They were already here, sniffing around for rumors. She couldn't keep this quiet much longer. Tomorrow she'd need to decide: file her claim with the border authority and risk the rush, or go tonight with just enough supplies to stake it herself. She pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and sketched the mountain formation from memory. The double peaks curved like horns. The rocky face between them looked exactly like a bison's head. Every caravan driver she'd asked about it had laughed or shrugged. But now the vase proved it was more than folklore. She folded the sketch and slipped it into her boot. By sunrise, she'd either be headed northwest alone, or filing papers that would bring fifty treasure hunters down on her discovery.