Then footsteps cut through the night.
Melvin’s head came up first, and he saw Captain Baxter rounding the corner from behind the generator shed, hands in his jacket pockets. Baxter stopped mid-step, clearly not expecting company. His eyes scanned them. Close. Relaxed. Too at ease to be an accident.
He didn’t speak right away. Then, simply, “Evening, gentlemen.”
“Evening, sir,” Mac said, straightening, but not pulling away.
Melvin mirrored him. “Sir.”
Baxter’s gaze lingered a moment, curious and unreadable, before he tipped his head back to glance at the sky. “Nice night for a walk.”
“Yes, sir,” Mac said, voice steady.
Baxter nodded. “Carry on.” He walked a few steps, then stopped abruptly and turned back.
“Might want to check out that old guard shed,” he said. “I hear it’s enchanted.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, boots quiet against the gravel.
They didn’t speak until the sound of him faded.
“I’m pretty sure he knows,” Melvin said.
Mac was quiet a moment, then let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh.
“You think? Either way, he knows enough.”
Melvin nodded. “He didn’t look like he was about to write anyone up.” He paused. “And what was that about the enchanted guard shed?”
Mac shook his head faintly. “First, he doesn’t have an issue with us.” A corner of his mouth twitched. “Second, that shed wasn’t a random suggestion.”
Melvin studied him. “You think he meant it?”
Mac shrugged slightly. “Only one way to find out.”
They didn’t say anything else about it. The decision came the way most of theirs did, quiet and mutual.
A few minutes later they were walking along the thinner-lit edge of the perimeter where the older structures stood half-forgotten. The wind moved through loose wire and warped metal panels, carrying dust and the faint smell of old fuel. The shed sat where the older maps said it would, a squat structure of faded plywood and corrugated tin half sunk into the sand as if the desert had been slowly reclaiming it.
Melvin felt the shift before they even reached the door.
Not danger.
Something else.
The air held a stillness that didn’t belong to wind or weather, like the space had been waiting longer than anyone realized. The panther in him stirred quietly, alert without alarm.
The shed looked smaller up close than it had from a distance. Just warped boards and a corrugated roof dulled by sand and time. Nothing about it suggested enchantment. If Baxter hadn’t mentioned it, Melvin would have walked past without a second glance.
Mac pulled the door open and the hinges creaked softly in the quiet.
Inside, the space smelled of dust and old wood, the air still and close. Moonlight slipped through gaps in the siding, falling across the back wall where something had been carved into the boards.
Melvin stepped in first.
Runes.
The shapes cut into the wood were deep and deliberate, the worn edges suggesting they were older than the shed itself. Lines curved and crossed in patterns that felt Intentional without being readable. He didn’t recognize the symbols, but something in him reacted anyway.
The panther stirred low in his chest. Not warning.
