In the Shadow of the Scroll

A Fragile Respite

“Finally,” Emmalyn muttered, her voice heavy with exhaustion. She kept her sword raised, but her posture was slumped, her earlier fire dimmed after the frantic escape. “I swear, if we run into one more monster, I’m calling it quits.”

Kyran, walking ahead of them, chuckled softly. “You think the mountain cares about your schedule? We’re lucky that beast didn’t follow us out.”

“That’s not comforting,” Emmalyn shot back, glaring at him.

Annabeth stayed silent, her focus on the glow ahead. When they finally stepped through the opening, they emerged into a small, sheltered plateau. The view was breathtaking—rolling clouds stretched below them, tinged gold and orange by the setting sun. The jagged peaks of distant mountains pierced the horizon like sentinels, and for the first time in what felt like days, Annabeth felt like she could breathe.

“We’ll camp here for the night,” Kyran said, already scanning the plateau for a defensible spot. “The mountain will be quiet for now, but it won’t last.”

Emmalyn dropped to the ground with a dramatic groan, laying her sword beside her. “Finally. I thought we were going to die underground.”

Annabeth smiled faintly as she sat beside her sister, setting the glowing stone in her lap. The scroll fragment still radiated a faint warmth, its runes glinting in the dim light. She traced the edges with her fingertips, her thoughts swirling.

“This is only one piece,” she said softly. “We still don’t know how many more there are—or what happens when we put them together.”

“Whatever happens, let’s hope it doesn’t involve more dragons,” Emmalyn muttered, her eyes closed. “One was plenty.”

Before Annabeth could respond, a soft rustling sound caught her attention. She tensed, her hand moving instinctively toward the stone. Kyran had already turned, his dagger drawn, his eyes scanning the rocky outcroppings near the edge of the plateau.

The rustling grew louder, accompanied by the sound of someone humming. Annabeth’s heart quickened as a figure emerged from the shadows—a young woman with a loose braid of dark blonde hair, dressed in a weathered traveler’s cloak. She carried a satchel slung over one shoulder, and her face was lit with a disarming, mischievous smile.

“Well, hello there,” the stranger said, her tone cheerful but wary as she stopped a few paces away. “Not every day you see a group of adventurers stumbling out of the mountain alive.”

“Who are you?” Kyran demanded, his voice sharp. He didn’t lower his dagger.

The woman held up her hands in mock surrender. “Easy there, dagger boy. The name’s Annie. I’m just passing through.” Her gaze shifted to Annabeth, her smile widening. “Though, judging by that shiny little stone you’ve got there, I’d say you’re more than just travelers.”

Annabeth stood, instinctively shielding the stone with her body. “What do you want?”

“Nothing you’re carrying, I promise,” Annie said, her voice breezy. “I’m just curious. You’ve got the look of people who’ve been through hell and back. And, judging by your friend’s sword and your glowing armor, I’d say there’s a story worth hearing.”

Emmalyn groaned from the ground, sitting up just enough to glare at the newcomer. “If you want a story, try the tavern in the valley. We’re not in the mood.”

Annie chuckled, slinging her satchel to the ground and sitting cross-legged a safe distance away. “Fair enough. I just figured I’d introduce myself. You see, I’ve been tracking some... strange events up here. You lot seem like the type who might know something about that.”

Annabeth exchanged a glance with Kyran, who remained tense, his dagger still ready. Emmalyn rolled her eyes and flopped back onto the ground, muttering something about dramatic entrances.

“What kind of strange events?” Annabeth asked cautiously.

Annie tilted her head, her eyes sharp despite her casual demeanor. “Rumbles in the earth. Shadows moving where they shouldn’t. And whispers—nasty little voices that make the hair on your neck stand up. That sound familiar to you?”

Annabeth hesitated. She thought of the dragon’s lair, the ominous voice that had echoed through the cavern after they’d retrieved the scroll fragment. “Maybe,” she said carefully. “Why are you tracking it?”

Annie grinned, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Let’s just say I’ve got a knack for uncovering things that don’t want to be found. I’m a wanderer, a bit of a collector. And this mountain? It’s humming with secrets.” Her gaze flicked to the scroll fragment. “Secrets that might interest you, too.”

“Why should we trust you?” Kyran asked, his tone cold.

“You shouldn’t,” Annie said cheerfully. “But if you let me stick around, I might just keep you alive long enough to find out what’s really going on up here.”

Annabeth studied her, unsure whether to feel relieved or wary. There was something disarming about Annie’s easy confidence, but there was also something guarded, as though she wasn’t revealing her whole purpose.

“What do you think?” Annabeth asked, glancing at Emmalyn and Kyran.

Emmalyn shrugged, clearly too exhausted to care. “She’s less annoying than him,” she said, pointing a thumb at Kyran. “That’s good enough for me.”

Kyran scowled but didn’t argue.

Annabeth turned back to Annie, her expression firm. “Alright. You can stay. But no tricks, and no lies. If you try anything—”

Annie held up her hands again, laughing. “Understood, fearless leader. No funny business.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink, the group settled around a small fire Kyran had built. For the first time in hours, the tension began to ease, and the fragile calm of the plateau felt almost peaceful.

But as Annabeth sat with the scroll fragment in her lap, its runes faintly glowing, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Annie’s arrival was no coincidence. Whatever lay ahead, the mountain’s secrets were far from finished with them.