With the symbols burned into memory, Lucian and I left the cathedral behind, heading east toward the weathered silhouette of the Old Light. The morning air had turned crisp, and gulls wheeled overhead, crying out over the surf below the cliffs.

"Finally," Lucian said, adjusting the collar of his coat. "We meet the wise old sage who will undoubtedly provide us with cryptic yet valuable knowledge. Or, you know, he could just be a lunatic with a library."

I chuckled. "Curiosity is the key, cousin. Scholars and researchers love puzzles. If we present this as a mystery hinging on his area of expertise, we won’t need to convince him to help. He’ll leap at the chance."

Brodert Quink's cottage stood crookedly at the edge of Sandpoint, nestled in the shadow of the ruined Thassilonian tower. Its exterior was a tangle of creeping ivy and overfilled window shelves. Before Lucian could knock again, the door creaked open.

A wiry man in his sixties peered out, his robes ink-stained, his hair wild. Sharp, intelligent eyes blinked at us from beneath bristling eyebrows. "Yes? What is it? If you’re selling anything, go away. If you have something interesting—ancient, preferably—then speak."

Lucian shot me a grin. "He already thinks we’re not worth his time."

I stepped forward. "Actually, Master Quink, we may have uncovered something Thassilonian in origin. It was beneath the cathedral—and we hoped someone with your expertise might help us make sense of it."

That changed everything. Quink’s eyes lit up. "Thassilonian? Beneath the cathedral? Fascinating! Come in, come in! Don’t dawdle!"

Inside, the air smelled of parchment, ink, and old dust. Scrolls and books filled every surface, some stacked as high as my chest. Maps of ancient Varisia clung to the walls, pinned beneath stones and bits of broken pottery. Quink pushed aside a pile of manuscripts and produced parchment, ink, and a fine quill.

"Draw what you saw. As precisely as you can."

I nodded, introducing myself as Cassian from Oppara as I took the seat and quill. Then I carefully traced out the symbols from memory, each angle and flourish recalled in perfect clarity. When I finished, Brodert leaned in, his fingers hovering just above the wet ink.

"Ancient... yes. Thassilonian, without question. See this curve? And these intersections? This is pre-Earthfall work. Older than the Empire of Taldor. Perhaps older than Avistan itself."

He muttered in Thassilonian as he examined the sketch.

"They were wards," he said at last. "Containment glyphs. Meant to hold something, or keep something from awakening. And if they were damaged in the fire..."

He sat back, expression grim. "Then it’s not just a question of who started the fire. It’s what they wanted to release."

Lucian let out a low whistle. "Well. That escalated quickly."

Brodert nodded, tapping the parchment. "I need to see the originals. The sketch is good, but incomplete. If you can get me access, I might be able to tell you exactly what those glyphs were holding in check. Until then, all I can say is this: your cathedral is sitting atop a very old and very dangerous piece of history."

I felt the weight of it settling over us like a curtain. Another mystery, deeper than the last.

Lucian crossed his arms. "So, cousin? What now?"

"Now," I said, straightening, "we prepare to go deeper."

We left Brodert Quink’s cottage with our heads buzzing and our stomachs empty. The air outside felt cooler, or maybe it was just the weight of what we’d uncovered that made everything sharper. We didn’t speak much on the walk back through town. What was there to say? Ancient wards buried under a cathedral, Thassilonian symbols tied to containment magic, and a fire that may have broken something loose. Not the kind of thing you chat about in passing.

The streets of Sandpoint had calmed some since morning. Repairs were underway, and the townsfolk were out again, voices hushed but no longer panicked. A few nodded to us in passing—grateful, wary, hopeful.

When we stepped through the door of The Rusty Dragon, the warmth and scent of roasting pork greeted us like an old friend. Ameiko caught sight of us from behind the bar and smirked.

"Ah, my two favorite troublemakers. I assume you’ve been off solving ancient mysteries and brooding dramatically?"

"I’ve been brooding," I said. "He’s been flirting. Probably with every young woman in town. I just know some irate father is going to chase us out of Sandpoint before we actually figure anything out."

Lucian grinned as if I’d just complimented him. "I assure you, cousin, all of my interactions have been driven by a sincere commitment to cross-cultural exchange."

Ameiko snorted. "Well, let’s just hope your idea of 'exchange' doesn’t get you tossed into the harbor. Go sit, I’ll bring something out."

We took our usual table near the hearth, the wood still warm from the night before. As we waited for food, I let my eyes wander across the common room. The patrons here looked a bit less haggard than this morning, but a nervous energy still lingered. People kept glancing toward the windows, listening for goblin screams that never came. A few hushed conversations included the words "fire" and "cathedral."

The questions were stirring again. That much was clear.

"I’m not liking this whole turn in the investigation," I said quietly. "It doesn’t bode well for the town. I know we’ve only been here a day, but I like the people we’ve met. It seems like a good place. I’d hate to see something terrible happen here."

Lucian leaned forward, his tone more serious than usual. "You’re right. This town has a kind of goodness to it. It’s not just another dot on the map. People here give a damn about each other."

He glanced toward the windows, eyes narrowing. "And that’s exactly why it would make a perfect target. Goblins are one thing, but ancient magic, missing corpses, and ruined wards? We might be dealing with something that doesn’t just want to hurt people. It might want to unravel something deeper."

He gave me a look, not flippant, not mocking, just honest. "So. Are we heroes today, or just two fools with a curiosity problem?"

Before I could answer, Ameiko returned with two plates of roast pork, thick bread, and fresh greens. She slid the food onto the table with a knowing smile.

"Eat up, boys. You look like you’re about to do something reckless."

Lucian laughed, picking up his fork. "Oh, always."