The coin pulsed warmly in her hand.
She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The atmosphere shifted, like passing through an invisible barrier. The temperature dropped, and a shiver ran up her spine. Damp stone surrounded her, slick with moisture. The constantdrip, drip, dripof water echoed from somewhere in the cave, rhythmic and ancient. The scent of salt and seaweed enveloped her.
Outside, waves crashed against the rocks, but inside the sound muted, transformed into something haunting and far away.
Emma’s eyes adjusted to the gloom. Light filtered in from the entrance, enough to make out the surroundings if she stayed close to the opening. Rough stone walls, worn smooth by centuries of wind and water, rose only a foot or two above her head. The ground was uneven beneath her feet, scattered with small stones and shells left by high tides.
Then she saw them.
Carvings.
Not random erosion or natural striations. Symbols. Deliberate marks etched into the walls. Emma moved closer, her breath catching. The carvings were everywhere once she knew to search for them—spirals and curves, patterns evocative of wind and waves. Shapes that echoed Ana-Luz's fanciful story.
The Red Veil. Captain Reyes. The Windstone.
Her fingers traced the nearest glyph, rubbing over the grooves worn smooth with age. How old were these? Decades? Centuries? Who carved them? The island's original inhabitants? Some ancient culture lost to time?
The spiral design beneath her fingertips matched the one on the coin.
Emma’s heart hammered as she moved along the wall, searching, although she didn't know what for. There—a larger spiral, carved at chest height. The size and shape appeared to be an exact match to the coin's design. As if the coin had been made from this carving. Orforit.
Without understanding why, acting on pure instinct, Emma pressed the coin into the carved groove.
It fit.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then a faint vibration ran through the rock beneath her hand. A whiff of air brushed across her nape, like the cave itself took a deep breath. The sensation traveled up her arm, raising goosebumps, making her pulse spike.
She jerked her hand back. The coin clattered to the ground.
The cave went still again. Silent except for the dripping water and distant waves.
What the hell?
Emma’s breathing came fast and shallow. She stared at the carved spiral, half-expecting it to do something else?—
“Emma.”
The growl from behind her made her jolt, heart leaping into her throat, although she immediately recognized it.
She whirled to see Zach standing at the entrance, his silhouette dark against the afternoon light. She didn’t need to see his face—red hot fury radiated from him, tight and controlled and barely contained.
“You disappeared without telling me.” His voice echoed through the cave, low and dangerous. Each word precise and clipped.
Emma’s hands clenched into fists. “I needed space.”
“You don’t get to just leave.” He moved into the cave, and as the light shifted, she could see his face—jaw locked, eyes battle-gray and fierce. “Not after what happened. Not without?—”
“Without your permission?” Defensive anger flared hot in her chest. “I’m not your prisoner, Zach.”
“That’s not—” He bit off the words, clearly fighting for control. “Someone tried to kill you yesterday, and he is still out there. You think I’m going to let you wander off alone because you’re feeling overwhelmed?”
“Let me?” The carved spiral beside her began to glow. Emma ignored the oddity, too focused on her anger; the air between them thick with everything unsaid.
She took a step toward him. Her pulse throbbed in her throat, in her wrists, pounding with adrenaline and frustration and something deeper she didn’t want to name.
The glow strengthened. Zach’s gaze flicked over her shoulder. He froze.
