“Thank you for confirming my nightmares,” she mutters.
We move slowly. The ceiling drops in places, forcing us to duck. Our boots scrape over grit and loose pebbles. The sound bounces back, mingled with an intermittent drip. The air grows cooler the farther we go, but it’s not stale. This place has a faint current as if it’s breathing.
“How old do you think this is?” she asks.
“Centuries. The stonework’s crude but effective. Whoever built it knew what they were doing.”
We pass a rotted wooden crate half buried in debris. The edges crumble under my touch.
“Empty,” I report.
“Disappointed?”
“Only that it wasn’t full of gold.”
She snorts. “Treasure hunter wasn’t in your official bio.”
“Neither was exploring secret tunnels, but here we are.”
The slope tilts upward. The damp smell gives way to something fresher—earth and pine.
“Smells like we’re close to the surface,” I say.
A few more meters, and the stone narrows to a tight arch. The passage ends in another wooden panel, this one rougher than the first. I brace my hands and push. It sticks for a second before it shifts, causing the hinges to squeal.
A wash of daylight hits my eyes. I blink, squinting into green.
We step out onto a wooded slope, the air sharp with pine and moss. Birdsong filters through the trees. Downhill about fifty meters away, something breaks the pattern of trunks and undergrowth. It’s a man-made structure, weathered and sagging.
Eva tilts her head. “Is that… a cabin?”
“Looks like it.” I follow her gaze. “A hunting lodge?”
She frowns. “If it is, no one ever told me. And I’ve walked this slope before.”
We pick our way down, branches snagging our clothes. The structure resolves into a long, low lodge with a stone base and timber upper level. Its shutters hang askew. One wall bears the faded ghost of painted letters; their meaning lost to time.
“Charming,” I say. “Needs a little work.”
“This isn’t on the estate maps,” she mutters, eyeing it. “Why would Geoffroy never mention it?”
“No idea.” I point through the trees. “That’s the old service track running up to the ridge.”
“Oh, then this must be where Geoffroy wanted to build his luxury resort.” Her eyes meet mine. “You think he knew about the tunnel?”
“Hard to say.”
We stand there for a moment, listening. The place is quiet except for the wind in the trees. I look up toward the tunnel exit. From here, you’d never guess it was anything more than an overgrown patch of hillside.
My mind turns over the possibilities. Could the tunnel be an old escape passage? A secret supply line during a siege? Both?
I jerk my chin toward the cabin. “Want to check inside?”
She hesitates. “Fine. But just alook.”
I take it she’s not keen on a quick romp in this run-down place.
We’ll see about that.
