Chapter 4. First Day. First Assignment.

At the edge of the forest, the wind changed. The air was lighter. The city was still asleep. The streets were damp from the night's moisture. A cat darted across the road. Somewhere, the early market was stirring.

Ellie walked fast. But she wasn't hiding. Her gaze was steady. Her mind wasn't chaos. Not fear. Focus. She climbed the stairs. Into her room. Threw off her jacket. Pulled out her journal. Opened a new page. Not formal. For herself.

"Sometimes I'm afraid all of this is just a dream. But there are too many coincidences. Stones don't break symmetrically. Tracks don't appear on their own. People don't sneeze underground for no reason.

And if someone already knew I would come, that means they either were watching or didn't dare return themselves.

I will return. But next time, I won't go alone."

She woke early. Slept maybe three hours at most. Her body hadn't rested, but her mind was clear. And light, with that particular lightness that comes when something inside finds a direction. Not an answer. But a vector.

She set the kettle on the fire. While waiting for the water to boil, she walked to the wall. Looked at the Womb map. Now it felt incomplete. Yesterday, it had just been a shape. Today, it was a gate. A question. She drew a fine chalk line: from the riverbed's center to the triangular groove in the rock. From there left. A place she hadn't been.

Then she glanced at the shelf where she kept her personal routes. One of them was old, a little worn, the one with the mushroom woods, where she first realized how far humidity could reach. Above it, a small white token. Slightly faded. Not hers. Once, it had been lent to her. That time, she hadn't walked alone.

She thought how easy it would be to go alone again. But no. This time, the tactic had to change.

The guild was quiet. Early morning. Just a couple guards yawning at the entrance. One scribe already sharpening quills. The counter wasn't yet piled with papers.

Ellie didn't approach immediately.

She was looking for someone specific.

Rein was in the far corner, as always. Sitting by the window at the old round table. An empty mug in front of him. A knife in hand, which he was sharpening not for sharpness. Just… to keep his hands busy.

He barely moved. Occasionally he glanced up, not at people, but at the windows. As if waiting for something beyond them.

She approached. Not fast. Not slow.

– As always, up early, – she said simply. He wasn't surprised.

– And you're not as always. Your eyes are tired but energy's pouring out of you.

– Happens. When you stumble on something.

– On what?

She sat across from him. Folded her hands.

– I need someone who can walk beside me without asking too many questions.

– And won't lag behind?

– And won't crash through bushes ahead.

– Where to?

– That ravine. "The Womb." Down... but a little to the side. There's still a piece of the route uncharted. I don't want to go there alone.

He looked at her for a long moment. Not interrogating. Just weighing. Then nodded.

– When?

– Today. In an hour. Light gear. Nothing extra.

– Filing notice?

– Yes. Routine. Route verification.

He stood.

– I'll grab water. Grab my knife. Not working as a bard. That okay?

– That's okay.

Rein smiled. Not much. Just a corner of his mouth.

And left.

Ellie stayed seated. Still. For the first time, she felt a strange relief. It didn't feel lighter inside, but the weight had shifted.

Prep was quick. Ellie didn't like to dawdle. Rein even less. Both went light. No tent, no bulky bags. Just water, food, chalk, rope, knife. Ellie took a second pencil and her journal. No explanation. He didn't ask.

She logged the route in the registry as "northern check from Womb." The desk clerk didn't even look up.

When they left, the sun was already rising. The day promised warmth, not heat. Good.

They walked to the ravine in silence. Not heavy, not tense. Just nothing extra. Ellie counted steps. Tracked rhythm. Checked animal trails, bark conditions. All normal.

Rein now and then checked direction, looked at the sky, as if verifying instinct with the weather.

They reached the Womb's descent just as the sun touched treetops. Ellie slowed.

– Down from here. We'll descend not straight to the stream, but left, along the slope. There's a zone that's still blank on my map.

Rein nodded.

– New path check?

– Yes. Think of it as route update. Just in case others try to pass through. Better they don't fall in.

– Hmm. You're not lying. But not telling everything either.

Ellie tilted her head slightly, didn't answer. Then said:

– I don't know exactly what I'm looking for. But if it were just a "place," I'd have gone alone.

He said nothing. Just took chalk from his belt. Marked their initials on a rock. "R+E" in a simple stroke. Then followed her.

The slope was steeper than the main descent. The trail barely visible. Soil loose, traces of old roots. One had snapped recently. Ellie stopped. Crouched.

– Someone's been here. Recently. Broken not by water or time. A boot. Pressure from the side.

Rein inspected too.

– Not your night footprints?

She looked at him. Silent. He understood. Said nothing.

– Someone was here. So we're not first.

– So we're either following someone. Or going where others turned back.

– Or didn't return, – she added.

They circled the ravine in an arc, not going straight to its bottom. Ellie led. Rein kept pace, neither ahead nor behind. He already sensed this wasn't just a "new" route. She was leading from memory, even if not saying it. But he walked.

By the wall of the ravine, just above the previous mark's level, Ellie slowed.

– Here, – shortly.

Rein came closer. Rock wall. A layer of debris. At an angle. She knelt, cleared a few branches. Showed it. A recess. Not the same. Another. Also triangular. But deeper, with a longer base. And not in the wall, but closer to the slope's base.

As if... it lay. Or was once pressed by something above. Rein crouched. Inspected.

– Not chipped. Not washed out. A cut. Mechanical. Depth about six centimeters. Width almost a palm. Yours. – He ran a finger along the edges. Then looked at Ellie. – Where was the first?

– Lower. Bottom of the ravine. In the wall. About 20 steps south.

He stood. Took two steps back. Scanned the terrain.

– This… isn't decorative. It's a marker. Or a coordinate anchor. Like they're points in a coordinate grid. Look. – He pulled a charcoal-marked parchment. Drew. – Triangle in the wall. Triangle in the ground. Line between them is straight. Add a third point, you get a shape. Not just some ground triangle. A marker.

– And what does it point to? – Ellie asked.

– Where to go.

– Or where not to.

He said nothing. She said nothing. Then Ellie added:

– This recess is clean. No one touched it. But last night… there was a piece of cloth in the ravine. And a note beneath it. It said: "If she doesn't stop, they'll come out."

Rein didn't flinch. Just nodded.

– You're saying it calmly. So you already know this isn't just geometry?

– I think they're locks. Or a cipher. Or doors. Or reminders of them.

She came closer. Knelt by the recess. Took out chalk. Began carefully tracing the outline. The silence around was such that dust settling on boots could be heard.

– I need two more, – she said.

– Two what?

– Two more triangles. To understand the shape. To see where it leads.

Rein stood a bit aside, gauging the distance between the two recesses. A piece of chalk in hand. His gaze focused, precise. A breeze slightly moved his hair and died, as if something in the listening world held its breath.

Ellie still stood by the recess. Ran her hand along the wall, not touching the edge. And in that moment, she heard it. Not loud. Not clear. A scraping.

As if someone or something, slowly, heavily, not digging, not burrowing, was scratching. From the inside. She straightened. Looked at Rein. No need to speak.

He heard it too. Didn't flinch. Didn't shout.

Just… clenched his fingers around the chalk until it cracked. Then pocketed it again.

– Time to go, – he said calmly.

– I agree.

– Writing it down?

– Already.

– Then let's go.

They headed back without rushing, but with the sense that the trail had changed slightly, that the earth knew they were leaving. And was waiting for their return.

In the guild, by evening.

Rein walked over silently. Pointed to the spot between the two recesses.

– If this is a coordinate plane, the third triangle will be either here… or there. – He tapped a zone no one had mapped yet.

Ellie looked.

– And the fourth?

– The fourth won't be on the surface.

– Then we go later?

– Yes.

– Together?

He just nodded.

"Triangles. Like supports. Like seams. Someone is holding or hiding something.

If opened, anything could happen, and something will come out.

The question isn't how to find it. The question is if it's worth it."

The sun was just rising over the horizon. Ellie stood at her room's wall for a long time, looking at the map. Red lines, fresh marks, uneven strokes on the ravine's edge, all were in place. But now she saw not just a path. She saw a scheme. A grid. Geometry. Something that wanted to be seen, but didn't explain itself directly. She drew another line from the upper recess to the center. Then sideways, at an angle. It formed a corner. If she found the third point, the shape would close. If the fourth – maybe it would open. Or collapse.

Rein entered without knocking. He asked no questions. Just leaned against the wall, saw the map, nodded.

– Think there's more?

– I don't think. I know. I feel it in the terrain. These recesses aren't random. They're like a frame.

– Like someone built something from the inside?

– Or outward. Doesn't matter. What matters is we're not seeing the marks, we're seeing the order between them. Which means there's logic and purpose.

– Shall we go?

– In an hour.

– How to file it?

– Check of the northern segment of the Womb. No details. No one digs when the report's dry.

He nodded. Turned to leave, then paused.

– If we do find the third point, will you want to complete the figure?

– No, – Ellie said. – I want to know who drew it.