Vasha’s workshop stood like a shadow at the end of the terrace, the woman herself sat on a crate outside, sleeves rolled up, gnawing on something leathery. Her eyes flicked up as they approached.

  She didn’t speak—just gave a short nod, the kind that said you’re here, good, and nothing more.

  Two others stood nearby, off to the side. One woman, sharp-eyed, arms crossed beneath a worn coat, short black hair wind-tossed but neat. The man beside her was broader and quieter, with a thick travel cloak and a slouch that said don’t talk to me. Both of them looked alert, ready, and pointedly uninterested in conversation. Tessa glanced at them briefly.

  [Rogue Level ??]

  [Rogue Level ??]

  She didn’t sigh, but it was close. Not unexpected. At level 29, most people above her still came up murky. She caught enough of a read to know they were capable—but little else. Just for curiosity’s sake, she turned her gaze briefly to Vasha.

  [Warrior Level ??]

  Figures. The woman moved like carved stone—measured, purposeful. Rellen stepped forward, ever the diplomat. “Morning.”

  The rogue woman offered the barest nod. The man didn’t even glance his way.

  “First time?” Rellen tried.

  “Yeah,” the woman said curtly.

  There was a pause. Rellen tried one more time. “Looking forward to it?”

  “No,” said the man flatly.

  Tessa smirked to herself as Rellen drifted back to her side.

  “Well,” he murmured, “not exactly the lively sort.”

  Before she could respond, Vasha rose from her crate with a sigh and a stretch of her back. “You’re all here. That’s good. Inside.”

  She pushed open the workshop door and gestured them in.

  “Gear’s set out—filter masks, lanterns, rope harnesses. You try it all on now. If it doesn’t fit, we leave you here. I’m not adjusting anything while down there.”

  Tessa shared a quick look with Rellen. He raised an eyebrow—Ready?—and she answered with a shrug.

  Inside, Vasha’s workshop was cooler, the heavy stone walls warding off the mountain heat. A long worktable now dominated the center of the space, its surface cleared and neatly arranged with four sets of equipment. Lanterns, belts, masks, and climbing gear—all uniform, all well-worn.

  Tessa moved to one of the sets and began inspecting the harness first. The stitching caught her attention immediately. Reinforced triple-thread at all load points. Not aesthetic—rough and uneven in places—but strong. The kind of work someone did by hand and by habit, likely when survival mattered more than symmetry. She ran her fingers along the belt’s edge.

  “Salt-treated leather,” she murmured. “Stiff. Holds form. Not cheap.”

  The small anchor loops were lined with charm-thread—a weave of faintly metallic fiber threaded into the inner seams, meant to hold enchantments better or repel minor mana interference. It wasn’t pretty. It was practical. Rellen was beside her now, adjusting a mask strap with a sort of quiet curiosity.

  “Functional,” he said.

  She picked up the filter mask next. The mouthpiece was heavier than expected, with twin crystal valves mounted on either side for air flow. Not exactly comfortable, but secure. Breathable. The straps were long, meant to go over a hood or helmet if needed. Stitchwork again—tight, consistent.

  She muttered to herself, “Stitch-count’s high. Done for durability. Someone reworks these often.”

  “You sound impressed,” Rellen said, adjusting his belt with a small smirk.

  “I am,” she replied. “Nothing’s for show. It all just works.”

  She slipped the mask on for a fit-check—tight over the bridge of her nose, but not painfully so. The valves hissed faintly when she inhaled. Breathing wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t hard, either. And it didn’t fog up.

  The lantern came last—steel-caged with a carved crystal core already dimly glowing from inside. It wasn’t light, but it was balanced, clearly designed for long-haul grip and swinging motion. Tessa gave it a short nod of approval.

  “Ready?” Vasha’s voice cut from the far end of the room, where she was checking straps on her own gear.

  Tessa gave her a sharp nod and fastened the last buckle of her harness. “Ready.”

  Rellen echoed the motion beside her. The other two—Rynna and Kolt—were already set, standing silently, watching but not saying anything. Their gear fit them well. They moved like they’d worn this kind of thing before—even if it was their first time entering the Vein.

  Vasha gave them all a once-over, eyes pausing on Tessa’s mask for half a second longer than the rest. Not in judgment—just checking the seal. Then she turned and stepped toward the rear door.

  “Good,” she said. “Trail starts at the edge of the southern lift. It’s narrow, and it’s steep. Stay behind me. If you can’t keep up, you go back.”

  Tessa’s pulse thrummed just a little faster.

  She adjusted her satchel straps across the harness—just in case—and gave herself one final pat-down.

  The trail began at the southern lift—an old mining platform repurposed for steep terrain, creaking slightly as it lowered them to a narrow path carved directly into the mountainside. From this angle, the Vein below looked like a chasm carved into the earth by a giant’s blade, its depth swallowed by swirling mist the color of moonlight and ash.

  Tessa stood at the back of the group, lantern hooked to the front strap of her harness. The filtered mask itched at her jawline, but she resisted the urge to adjust it.

  Rynna and Kolt took the front behind Vasha, silent and sure-footed. Rellen stayed beside Tessa at the rear. The descent began. They moved in single file down a path barely wide enough for two boots side-by-side, the wall to one side jagged with tool-scarred stone and the drop on the other obscured by curling threads of rising fog.

  Tessa’s boots crunched softly against loose grit. She kept one hand close to the wall for balance and the other gently wrapped around her lantern’s grip. The moment they dipped below the fogline, her breath caught.

  The light dimmed instantly—not dark, but thick. Everything took on a pearlescent sheen. Sound dulled. Even their footfalls seemed quieter.

  She leaned closer to Rellen as they walked. “The mist refracts light. See the way the edges shimmer? It’s not dense enough to block vision completely, but it bends things… warps depth.”

  Rellen didn’t reply. His head fixed ahead.

  “The rock’s different down here,” she murmured after a minute. “Vein-carved. See the patterns? It’s not just toolwork. Crystal growth reshapes it. I read about this. Sometimes the fog encourages it.”

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  No answer again. She saw his gaze tracked on the two rogues’ shoulders. Every step they took. Every hand motion. She doubted he’d looked at the terrain once since they started walking.

  She huffed softly into her mask. “You’re terrible company.”

  “Mm,” Rellen hummed. “You're surprisingly talkative.”

  “I’m observing. It’s different.” She said.

  He finally gave her a sideways glance. “If you say so.”

  Ahead, the trail dipped again, and the fog thickened. The lanterns grew brighter in the haze, their glow trailing behind like thread in water. The chill in the air deepened—not from cold, but from mana. It raised the small hairs along her arms even through her coat.

  Tessa slowed slightly, staring at the faint veins of crystal glowing along the cavern wall.

  “They’re forming naturally here,” she whispered. “Still uncut.”

  Rellen glanced at them, finally. “You going to start scraping samples?”

  “If I had the tools, maybe.”

  “You planning a side business?”

  “Backup plan,” she said. “In case courier work doesn't pan out.”

  He gave a quiet chuckle. But even then, his eyes returned to the pair ahead. Tessa followed his gaze and frowned slightly. They hadn’t said much. No idle conversation. No awe at the scenery or interest in the crystal lines blooming in the stone. Professional. Cold.

  Too professional? Maybe. But she didn’t voice it, who was she to judge.

  They had been walking for nearly two hours. The path had narrowed and widened in turns, dipped under overhangs, then opened into tall cathedral-like chambers where the mist pooled and swirled like slow smoke. Every so often, Vasha would raise a hand to signal a halt and point out a change in the rock—small bloom nodes, anchor crystals forming along cracks, or pressure lines shifting where the stone thinned.

  Tessa stayed quiet now. Her earlier observations had faded to inward processing. Her boots ached. Her breath rasped faintly through the mask filter. Her eyes kept darting from the fog-coated walls to the pulsing shimmer of their lanterns.

  But when they rounded the bend and stepped into the cavern proper—the bloom cavern—Tessa stopped walking entirely.

  “Whoa.”

  The space opened wide and tall, with no visible ceiling above the fog line. The walls were veined with thick latticework crystal—raw, uncut, pulsing faintly with hues of silver-blue and soft violet. Light reflected off mist particles and scattered across the surfaces in moving fragments, casting reflections that danced like slow-moving stars.

  It was beautiful. Surreal. Quiet in a way that didn’t feel empty, but reverent. Even the rogues paused. Vasha stepped aside and gestured without speaking. Her expression hadn’t changed, but there was something in the motion—something that said take it in.

  Tessa took a few slow steps forward, lantern held low. Some of the blooms were the size of melons, shaped in spiraling petals of clear mana crystal with veins of raw power threading through them. Others formed like ice-rimed thorns out of the walls.

  She leaned closer to one growth, her fingers itched to trace the shape—not touch, just study. “That curve… you couldn’t shape that with tools. It’s all grown.”

  “They react to pressure gradients,” Vasha said, her voice low. “Weight above and flow below. Like roots, but inverted.”

  Rellen had moved to stand beside her, his gaze not on the crystals—but again, on the others.

  Rynna had crouched near one of the walls, not too close, but closer than Vasha would’ve allowed if this weren’t a ‘look, don’t touch’ tour. Kolt had said nothing for nearly the entire walk but now stood stock still, facing deeper into the Vein where the mist thickened almost to opacity.

  Tessa nudged Rellen lightly with her elbow. “They’re weird, right?”

  “They’re rogues,” he replied. “Weird is part of the class description.”

  “You think they’re up to something.”

  “I think,” Rellen murmured, still watching Kolt from the corner of his eye, “they’re more interested in what’s past the bloom than what’s inside it.”

  Tessa didn’t respond. But she noticed how Rynna kept looking toward a fissure in the far wall—narrow, fog-choked, and not on the marked path. And how Kolt adjusted the strap of his lantern but hadn’t turned it back on.

  Vasha, oblivious or simply unfazed, said, “Ten minutes. Stay close. Don’t touch anything. Then we will head back.”

  Tessa crouched near a bloom cluster and let herself study the jagged brilliance of the crystals—but part of her focus, like Rellen’s, stayed on the others. Something about this part of the tour felt less like wonder. And more like waiting . But maybe that was just her nerves.

  She exhaled slowly, eyes tracking the intricate spiral of a mana bloom no larger than her hand. It caught her lantern’s light and refracted it in layers—violet at the base, pale silver at the edges, with that faint inner pulse that marked it as alive, still growing.

  She muttered mostly to herself, “These could be shaped. Set into fittings. If I could stabilize one before cutting…”

  “Your Artisan’s showing,” Rellen murmured beside her, voice low and dry.

  She didn’t look away from the crystal. “You ever seen anything like this?”

  “No.” A beat passed.

  Tessa did glance at him then, catching the slight narrowing of his eyes as he tracked Kolt’s slow steps across the cavern floor. Not suspicious exactly—methodical. Like a man checking corners in a place he claimed not to know.

  Rynna stood farther back, posture loose but ready, arms crossed over her chest. She hadn’t moved much since they’d entered the cavern. Just watched. Lantern turned low.

  “They’re quiet,” Tessa whispered.

  “They’re rogues,” Rellen replied.

  “I thought you said weird was part of the class.”

  “It is,” he said. “But there’s quiet, and then there’s quiet with intent.”

  That sent a ripple through her chest. Not fear—yet—but discomfort. A prickling along her shoulders.

  “They could just be waiting for the guide,” she said. “Vasha said ten minutes.”

  “Sure,” Rellen murmured, not sounding convinced.

  Tessa straightened slightly, trying not to look tense. She wasn’t new to reading people. And while the rogues weren’t exactly chatty, they hadn’t done anything… wrong. Not yet. Still, something gnawed at her. Kolt’s lantern remained off.

  Rynna’s eyes kept drifting toward the far wall. Tessa stepped back from the bloom, casually brushing her hands against her coat. Rellen didn’t move, but she caught the slight twitch of his fingers—readying something. Maybe just instinct.

  “Three more minutes,” Vasha called out, tapping her bracer. She stood near the cavern’s edge now, scanning a thin vein of crystal that ran like lightning through the stone. “Then we turn around. No wandering.”

  “Copy that,” Rynna replied lightly. Tessa didn’t respond. Her pulse had picked up.

  Rellen leaned just a fraction closer. “Stay near me when we move.”

  That was all he said. And it was the way he said it—quiet. Certain. Final—that made her fingers curl tightly around her lantern grip. She nodded once.

  "Alright," Vasha said, thumb brushing her belt—

  Rynna’s knife punched into her back.

  The blade went in silent, but the sound it made coming out was worse—a wet, grating rip as Vasha’s breath left her. She didn’t scream. She folded like a cut wire, knees buckling—

  —just as Kolt shifted. Not toward Vasha. Not toward Tessa.

  Toward Rellen.

  His movement was pure economy—no wasted motion, no dramatic flourish. Just the quiet pivot of a man who'd spent years turning violence into mathematics. His dagger cleared its sheath as naturally as breathing, edge catching the fractured light as it arced toward Rellen's ribs.

  Rellen was already moving. His left hand yanked Tessa back while his right came up—palm outward—as if to catch the blade bare-handed. For a heartbeat, the air between them shimmered like heat haze over desert stone. Then the world cracked.

  A web of jagged light erupted from Rellen's palm, splintering the space between them. Kolt's blade struck the glowing fracture lines and stopped cold, suspended in a spiderweb of luminous force. The impact sent vibrations crawling up Kolt's arm, making his teeth ache.

  Their eyes met across the charged air. Kolt's lips twitched. Not a smile. Not a snarl. Just acknowledgment—the quiet respect of one predator for another.

  Then Rellen shoved, and the glowing web detonated outward in a storm of light and pressure. Light exploded—then multiplied.

  Tessa’s vision swam as Rellen’s magic fractured the air. Suddenly there were too many of them: Rellens hauling Tessas in every direction, some sprinting, others stumbling. One copy even turned to face their pursuers, hands raised in surrender—

  A hand clamped Tessa’s shoulder. The real Rellen dragged her backward into a crevice, his whisper a blade against her ear: "Quiet."

  Across the cavern, another Tessa-and-Rellen pair broke left. This one moved differently—the Rellen’s grip on his Tessa was tighter, more desperate. A gash bled freely down the illusion-Tessa’s arm, crimson droplets scattering too realistically across the stone.

  "There!" Rynna’s voice lashed through the chaos.

  She moved like a arrow loosed from a bow, knives already in hand. The bleeding Tessa gasped—actually gasped—as the fake-Rellen shoved forward.

  "Go!" the decoy Rellen roared. They ran.

  Rynna didn’t hesitate. "Stick to the plan!" she threw over her shoulder at Kolt. Kolt didn’t give chase. Rynna vanished into the fog, pursuing the fleeing illusions.

  Kolt didn’t even glance at Vasha’s body as he stepped around it, as if she were just another discarded item on the floor. From his coat, he retrieved a small black box and flipped it open. Inside sat a cube—dull metal, matte finish. Tessa’s breath caught the moment she saw it.

  It looked just like the one she had found in the outpost dungeon. Her eyes locked on it as Kolt lifted it in one hand and began to twist. Panels rotated in rapid succession—sharp clicks barely audible over the quiet hum of crystal and mist. Each shift seemed deliberate, purposeful, and entirely familiar in a way that made her stomach twist.

  Tessa tried to memorize the sequence, blinking hard behind her mask as she followed the flick of his fingers. But there were too many turns. It was gone before she could hold it in her mind.

  He finished the final rotation and held the cube. There was no sound. But a pulse of cold spread through the cavern like a breath exhaled from the earth itself. It slid through the mist and over her skin, sank into the fabric of her coat, and curled along her spine. Tessa flinched.

  Beside her, Rellen froze as well, his eyes widening just slightly beneath his mask. Then the system chimed. It didn’t echo. It didn’t flash. It just appeared.

  [You have entered the Dungeon: ███████ ]