The rain hadn't stopped for hours, tapping steadily on the arched glass windows of Greystone University's library. Patricia adjusted her scarf and squinted through her glasses, brushing away the cobwebs clinging to the old shelf in the Restricted Archives. She wasn't supposed to be here—especially not past curfew—but the rumors of a forbidden section holding lost expedition records were too tempting to ignore.
Her fingers slid across faded spines until one particular volume caught her eye: "Expedition 117: The Ember Gates". The leather cover was cracked, its golden embossing barely legible. She hesitated, her heart thudding. This name—it had only ever appeared in whispers and myths. A legend among legends.
Patricia opened it, and pages filled with cryptic sketches, forgotten maps, and notes in a language that barely looked human fell into her lap.
At that moment, she wasn't alone anymore.
A shadow moved behind her. Instinctively, she reached for her flashlight and spun around—only to come face to face with Michael Grayson, the war-scarred security consultant who was supposedly off duty.
"You know this area's restricted," he muttered, crossing his arms. His sharp jaw was flecked with stubble, and his military boots tracked mud across the ancient marble.
Patricia raised an eyebrow. "Funny. So what are you doing here?"
Michael glanced at the book. "Following a trail."
"Of what?"
He looked her dead in the eye. "Whatever you just opened."