The ruined capital of the dwarves loomed like a skeleton sunken into the earth. Burnt scaffolding framed broken towers. Blackened gears hung limp from crumbling skyrails. What wasn’t buried by sand was cracked by time—or war.

  As Rell, Neyxa, and Thessia approached, the atmosphere turned brittle. Dwarves peeked out from makeshift huts and shattered fort walls, eyes sharp with mistrust. None dared step close, but none turned away either.

  Neyxa leaned weakly on Thessia’s shoulder, still recovering. Rell walked ahead, alert and silent, his eyes sweeping the paths for movement—his instincts searching for Ko Mala.

  A burly dwarf in rusted armor stepped forward, gripping his hammer like it might speak for him. “We don’t want your kind here. Turn around.”

  But a voice rang out behind him—strong, steady, unmistakable.

  “That’s enough, Branth. You’ll stand down.”

  Heads turned. Whispers caught in throats.

  From the ruins stepped a young dwarf woman clad in broken ceremonial armor. Blood had dried at her temple, and her golden shoulder bands were cracked and soot-blackened. Her boots crunched against soot-caked stone as she moved.

  Neyxa froze.

  Thessia’s eyes narrowed. “That’s…”

  “The girl you saved,” Rell finished.

  The woman—scarred, but upright—walked past the startled dwarf crowd and faced the trio.

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  “You saved me in the sands. But I’m no refugee. I am Araeth Stonebrand, rightful heir to this broken mountain.”

  The gathered dwarves gasped.

  The old warriors who still remembered her lineage dropped to one knee.

  Araeth ignored them.

  “They thought me dead. The bandits left me buried in cursed sand because I said no to more shipments. No to more silence. I’m here now—and I will not be silenced again.”

  She looked to Neyxa. “You didn’t know who I was. Still saved me. That means more than bloodlines.”

  Neyxa blinked, caught off guard. “…Yeah, well. Don’t make it a habit.”

  Araeth turned to the crew. “We owe you. And I have information to repay it.”

  She explained the depth of the corruption—how, years ago, the Advisor funneled royal magic caches to the desert tribes in secret. In return, the dwarves were promised protection and resources—but that illusion cracked fast. The bandits began extorting dwarf cities, using royal permission as license to pillage.

  Araeth tried to stop it. Signed edicts. Pulled funds.

  So they betrayed her.

  Left her out there to rot.

  She had survived on sheer grit and something else: her bond to the ancient Stonebrand forge.

  The enchanted runes carved into her armor weren’t decorative. They whispered commands to any dwarven tech within twenty paces. Weapons flickered when she passed. Generators sparked to life.

  Even now, pieces of ruined machinery stirred near her boots—resonating with the lineage carved into her bones.

  She didn’t wield magic.

  She wielded the will of stone and flame.

  Araeth had once melted a bandit’s armor to his ribs with nothing but a snapped rune ring and a gauntlet punch. Rumor said her very presence could awaken sleeping constructs… or silence them.

  “I don’t look like a queen,” she said. “But I don’t need to. Every forge in this capital still listens to me. I just need a reason to speak.”

  Rell finally nodded. “We found it.”

  Araeth pulled out a hand-sketched map, torn and soot-marked. “They’ve moved Ko Mala to a ravine stronghold. Covered by the eastern range, protected by wind trenches and sensor glyphs. You can’t just charge in.”

  She tapped two choke points.

  “But their supplies come through here and here. Cut those, and they’ll bleed out—fast.”

  Neyxa looked at her. “And you’ll help?”

  Araeth smirked. “I don’t like outsiders. But I hate traitors.”

  Thessia studied her a moment longer, then nodded.

  As they planned, one dwarf slipped away into the shadows.

  He didn’t get far.

  Rell grabbed him from the alley wall before the man could scream, yanking him up by the collar. His eyes blazed—not with magic, but something deeper. Something wild.

  “You tryin’ to talk?” Rell growled. “Try talkin’ to me.”

  The dwarf froze. Whatever secret he held crumbled under Rell’s gaze.

  He spilled everything—locations, signals, even the number of guards around Ko Mala’s cell.

  Thessia sighed. “You could’ve let me ask first.”

  Rell dropped the dwarf. “Would’ve lied.”

  Araeth chuckled. “You’re efficient.”

  Neyxa stepped in, brushing the soot from her shoulders.

  “We’ve got the map, the team, and one pissed-off queen. Time to break a few fortresses.”

  Rell pointed toward the east.

  “Then we move at dusk.”