For four hundred and twelve years, Sikori Seren hid the Keeper's paths so no stranger could find the cave. Now three strangers stood inside it at dawn. The old snowy owl watched them from the shadow of a crystal pillar. His feathers hung loose and gray. His beak was cracked. The enchantments were fraying, the way he was, and he had trained no one to hold them when he fell. These three had walked the hidden roads. That alone made them worth watching. One of them might carry his mantle. Or none might. Sikori stayed still and silent. His mother had taught him the trick before she died. You learn what people are by watching them when they think no one looks. So he looked. The boar came first. Einod the Crusher. Blood still darkened his leather armor. He set his back to the stone wall and faced the entrance, hand near his sabre. He checked the exits before he checked the water. A killer, counting threats. Not an oracle. The human moved next. Waylon Aster, tall and lanky, blue eyes already mapping the cavern. He crouched by the glowing blue pool at the room's center. Moonflowers floated on its surface. Gems shimmered along the rim. Waylon did not touch them. "Fountain's enchanted," Waylon said flatly. "I'd leave it alone." He studied the runes above the entrance instead. He traced the gaps in the pattern, the way a tracker reads a trail. He was clever. But he looked for secrets to take, not to guard. Sikori had buried too many secrets to hand them to a taker. The third came last and stopped at the threshold. A midnight Wyvi, sleek and dark, orange eyes sharp. Kestral Nightfeather. She did not look at the crystals or the pool. She watched the other two. She watched the shadows. Her gaze passed over the pillar where Sikori hid, and stopped. She knew. He felt it. She had found him the way he found others. Kestral said nothing to her companions. She did not point. She did not warn them. She let the old bird keep his cover, because a secret kept was a secret she understood. Then she crossed to the luminous pool, knelt, and did a thing Sikori had not seen in four hundred years. She cupped water in her hand and poured it back slowly, watching the moonflowers settle. She was learning the room when she thought no one watched her. Just as he did. Sikori stepped out from the pillar. His talon clicked on stone. Einod spun, sabre half drawn. Waylon rose. But Sikori looked only at the Wyvi. "You," he said. His cracked beak clicked. "The paths let three through. But only one of you watches the way I taught myself to watch." Kestral stood. She met his eyes and did not flinch. "Then watch me back," she said. Sikori had found his candidate. Now he had to keep her alive long enough to test her.