Soon, John and Caros stood before the gaping mouth of the cave.
Shadows pooled around the entrance like oil, thick and unmoving, as if light itself refused to enter.
Caros walked with a spring in his step, almost cocky in his movements.
His hands were behind his back, shoulders loose, and his eyes shone with eager excitement, as though this was nothing more than a casual stroll into a marketplace.
In contrast, John followed several paces behind, his movements slow and precise.
His hand never strayed far from his storage bag, and his senses were stretched thin, tuned to every subtle rustle of the wind and crunch of gravel beneath his boots.
As they reached the stone platform just before the cave's threshold, Caros stopped and turned to John, flashing that same wide, ever-amused grin. "You go first," he said, gesturing toward the cave. "I'll follow right behind you."
John stopped in his tracks.
His eyes narrowed like daggers.
