Maya dangled her legs over the edge of the crumbling cliff, staring into the void below. The canyon stretched endlessly downward, swallowed by shadow and silence. She had come this far — she wasn't turning back now.
She pulled a small jar from her pack and pried it open. Inside was a sample of the luminescent moss her grandmother had described in the old journal — barely a thimbleful, but enough to confirm she was on the right trail. The glow pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat, pointing her toward the cave entrance carved into the opposite wall.
She secured her rope and swung out into open air. The wind hit her immediately, and she felt the resistance it pushed against her body, threatening to slam her sideways into the rock face. She gritted her teeth, angled herself forward, and fought through it with every muscle she had.
When her boots finally touched the cave ledge, she exhaled sharply. That was her cue to move — there was no time to celebrate. Torches still burned along the inner walls, meaning someone else was already inside.
Maya pressed deeper into the tunnel, following the warmth of ancient firelight. Then she stepped into the chamber and gasped. A natural spring rose from the stone floor, surrounded by the same glowing moss but in towering abundance. The air smelled of rain and wild herbs. She could feel it instantly — something in this place seemed to rejuvenate her exhausted body, lifting the weariness from her bones like shed weight.
She wasn't alone in the chamber. A figure turned slowly from the water's edge, and smiled.