No insignia.
The paper was a fragment of a map.
Her heart gave a small, sharp jump.
The lines were rough but clear: a circular chamber marked with a cross – likely the shaft's top – then a spiral line with small marks at intervals. At the bottom, a rough sketch of branching tunnels, some crossed out, one circled.
Next to the circled tunnel, in cramped writing, someone had squeezed a note:
"Echo hall. No spellwork. Sound kills."
Rhaen swallowed.
"Good to know," she muttered.
She folded the map along the old creases and slid it carefully into her pack.
Under the map, at the bottom of the pouch, her fingers brushed something else.
A small, round device – like a compass, but with no North marked.
The face was a ring of tiny crystal shards that shifted and glowed faintly when she lifted it. A thin needle floated above them, tugged gently toward the open shaft.
When she twisted her wrist, the needle trembled, then pulled again toward the same direction.
