The rain came sideways through the broken window, each gust slapping Kael Vire across the cheek like a warning. He barely blinked. His back was to the wall, boots up on the bench, a half-eaten bowl of bitterroot stew in front of him. The meat was undercooked. The bread was dry. He ate none of it.
Instead, his eyes were fixed on the object before him: a map with no border, no legend, no name just a sprawl of ink-drawn mountains, scattered symbols, and a spiral in the middle that seemed to pulse if you stared too long. Across the bottom, someone had scorched a single word:
UNFOUND.
He'd seen maps of every region in the five kingdoms trader routes, forbidden ruins, hidden isles. This map didn't match any of them. It was either a lie or something worse.
He wasn't alone.
Across the room, a girl sat at a cracked table near the fire, her scarf flickering between crimson and copper in the dim light... Mira Elenor. A noble's accent clung to her voice when she'd asked for tea earlier, but her boots were scuffed, her nails dirty. She was running from something, same as him. Maybe someone.
She had the same map, tucked in a leather case she kept close, glancing at it every time she thought no one was looking.
Near the hearth sat the third. Quiet. Brooding. Tarn Rell. The tattooed monk with the faraway eyes. His robes were soaked, his arms crossed. He hadn't spoken once since arriving at dusk. A bowl of untouched soup cooled in front of him.
Kael had met enough killers to know when someone was dangerous. Tarn didn't look dangerous. He looked… unnatural. Like the world bent slightly around him without knowing why.
They hadn't come together. But Kael was sure of one thing: all three of them were here for the same reason.
A note.
A coin.
A promise.
"Come to Hollowdown Inn before the third moonrise. Bring no one. Come ready."
Kael had tossed the coin into a fire. The note burned with it. But he kept the map. He didn't know why.
The door creaked open as the wind howled louder. All three turned at once Kael's hand drifted to his hilt, Mira's fingers twitched toward her scarf, and Tarn didn't move at all.
A hunched man in ceremonial robes entered, soaked and breathing hard. His hood was up, but the golden trim of the Seven-Eyed Order marked him clearly a priest or a heretic. Or both.
He moved fast, eyes scanning the room until he saw them.
"You came," he whispered, mostly to himself. He crossed the room and placed a bronze object on the center table.
A compass but the needle spun endlessly, as if resisting its own purpose.
"This," the man said, "is the only thing that can find the gate."
Kael stood, his boots thudding softly on the floor. Mira rose more slowly. Tarn approached like a shadow.
The man looked at each of them with a tremble in his fingers. "Three vagabonds. No titles. No records. No homes. Perfect."
"Who are you?" Mira asked.
"A prophet. A coward. And likely already dead," the man said with a shaking laugh.
Kael frowned. "The Unfound Gate. This is real?"
"Oh, it's real. Hidden beneath the world. Vehl'Tharun, the Forgotten Realm. Wiped from history by kings and gods alike. But the realm remembers. It waits. And tonight…" He paused, eyes glinting. "It opens."
He reached into his robe and pulled out a scroll blackened at the edges, marked with strange runes. He didn't unroll it. Just placed it beside the compass.
Mira leaned in. "You summoned us to open something that was sealed for a reason. Why?"
The man's voice dropped to a whisper. "Because it called me. Because it's waking up. And because the world has forgotten what lies beneath. But it hasn't forgotten you."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"
The man smiled and then, with a sudden twitch, collapsed.
No scream. No gasp. Just a slump of robes and silence.
Kael drew his blade in a flash. Tarn dropped to one knee, checking the man's pulse. Mira backed away, eyes scanning the room like death might still be hiding in the rafters.
Tarn looked up, expression unreadable. "Dead. Heart stopped. No wounds."
Mira muttered, "Just like that?"
Kael stepped closer to the table, blade still drawn. The compass was spinning faster now, its needle a blur. The runes on the scroll seemed to shift under the flickering candlelight.
"I don't like this," Kael said.
"No one does," Tarn replied.
Outside, the wind fell silent.
The fire in the hearth dimmed. Then flared blue for half a second.
Kael looked at Mira. "What the hell is going on?"
She slowly unfolded her map. The spiral at the center began to glow faintly just a shimmer of silver beneath the ink.
Then… the ground rumbled.
It was slight. Barely noticeable. But it was there. Like something deep below the town had shifted.
Mira whispered, "That's not possible…"
Kael sheathed his blade. "We leave. Now. Before whatever killed him comes for us."
But Tarn was staring at the scroll.
"Wait," he said. "Listen."
For a moment, the room held its breath.
Then they heard it.
A voice. Faint. Like someone whispering through old stone.
"Three came once. Three come again. Will they run… or will they open the door?"
Kael stepped back. Mira dropped her map.
Tarn didn't move. His tattoos began to glow dim blue.
"The gate is awake," he said.
Kael exhaled, slow and cold. "Then we find it. Or burn it shut."
Mira shook her head. "No. We find it. Because it's already found us."
Outside, the clouds parted. Above Hollowdown, where stars should have been, symbols burned in the sky glowing shapes like those on the scroll.
And somewhere far beneath them, stone ground against stone.
The realm remembered.
And the door had begun to open.