Stone and Steel

Alastair.

The aqueduct path curved like a spine through the hills, ancient stone weathered by time and rebuilt with the sweat of too many dead masons to count. I'd walked it a dozen times in the last two weeks, watching engineers argue over flow control and tracking every weak point in the old structure. But today something felt... off.

The birds were silent. No wind. Just the slow drip of water along the channels and the crunch of my boots on gravel.

I had left most of my guard behind, posted strategically around the engineers half a mile down the line. Only two remained with me, flanking my approach as I reached the halfway point between Ridgeback and the old relay tower near Hollow Run. The sky overhead was dull with low cloud, and a thin mist clung to the ground like a warning.

That's when I smelled it—burned copper. And heat.