Chapter 21 - Beneath The Broken Tower

Stone groaned beneath their feet as Ren led the way down the spiral staircase.

The passage was narrow, carved straight into the rock, with dust drifting like mist in the air.

Kaela's light hovered just behind him, casting a soft glow that brushed the walls with ghostly fingers.

"It's dry," Tobren muttered behind him. "Too dry. Like no one's been here in a century."

"No rats, no mold," Kaela added. "This place was sealed tight."

Ren didn't respond. His attention was on the map inside his coat, pulsing warm and steady against his ribs like a second heartbeat.

The stairs ended in a flat corridor, ceiling low, walls smooth. Ahead, a stone arch opened into a larger chamber.

They stepped through and stopped.

The chamber was circular, maybe ten meters across. The walls were carved with old markings runes, diagrams, and strange, flowing symbols.

A mural curved along the far side: two figures stood beneath a tree. One raised a massive hammer toward the sky, a squat figure in what looked like a horned helmet. The other was barefoot, beads or stones strung around his neck, hands outstretched as if shaping the ground. But the mural wasn't finished.

The style was older than anything Ren had seen in Ironpeak or the central kingdom. Older than even the temple ruins they'd passed on their journey.

"This is… not from any age I know," Kaela whispered. "I've never seen anything like this before."

In the center of the room was a wide, flat stone disk. Etched with overlapping circles and faded runes.

Ren stepped toward it.

The moment his boot touched the central ring, the map in his pocket flared. A low hum vibrated through the floor.

The stone disk lit up. Soft, pale-blue veins of light crawling outward like cracks of magic awakened from sleep.

Then the center of the disk began to sink.

Stone gears ground somewhere below. A circular platform lowered itself, slow and steady, revealing a stairwell beneath.

Kaela stepped forward, eyes wide. "This isn't arcane power. I never heard any magic like this."

Ren stared at the moving stone, his pulse rising. "It responded to me."

No one else had stepped forward. No one else had tried.

He glanced back. "Let's go."

The lower chamber was smaller, tighter. Shaped like a workshop or vault. Old racks lined the walls, with clay pipes stacked neatly against them. Pipes shaped to fit the threaded ends of the tool and fragments of broken mechanisms scattered beneath. The air was colder here. Still. Silent.

But one thing remained untouched in the center of the room.

A pedestal. And on it, something that resembled a long, dark shaft of metal. Half a meter in length, wrapped in dull cloth. A relic. A device.

Ren reached out and unwrapped it carefully.

It was a tool, but not one he recognized.

A shaft of dark alloy, split into four joinable sections. Each section had threading like pipe fittings. Threading that matched the clay pipes stacked near the racks.

There were attachments too, claw-shaped heads, a spiral tip, and a small, rune-etched pump handle that hummed faintly when Kaela brought her light close.

"What is that?" Tobren asked.

Kaela stepped up beside them, her eyes wide with fascination. "This relic… it carries traces of magic. Maybe water. Definitely old. Ancient, even."

She ran her fingers slowly along the shaft.

A faint shimmer of her magic sparked.

Then died, snuffed out like a candle in wind.

"Strange," she whispered. "It resists me."

Ren took the tool from her hands. The metal was warm against his skin. Too warm for stone left untouched in the dark.

It felt familiar.

He turned it over, studying the shape. The curve of the handle, the spiral tip.

A manual water drill. Exactly like the ones he'd used back on Earth.

Then the map inside his coat pulsed again.

The pedestal glowed faintly beneath the base where the tool had rested.

And in that moment, a whisper. Not sound, but thought, brushed the edge of Ren's mind.

For the builders. When the land goes dry. Let the map lead you. Let the veins rise again.

Ren blinked. The voice faded like smoke in wind.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, looking to Tobren and the guild members.

They shook their heads.

Kaela frowned. "Nothing. You okay?"

He didn't answer. Not right away. He looked down at the tool in his hand.

It was more than a relic. It was a solution.

And something about it, about this whole place. Felt like recognition.

They returned to the surface just before dawn.

Becca and Daro snorted softly near the cart as the last stars vanished above.

The village still slept in quiet.

Ren stood at the base of the broken tower, holding the tool in one hand, the map in the other. He turned to Tobren.

"This… this can dig."

Tobren's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"There's water below the village. A blue vein. Deep. This tool was made to reach it. Made by people who knew how to raise water."

He turned to the others.

"Bring those pipes, the ones next to the racks."

Tobren tilted his head, "Pipes?"

Ren answered, "They're part of this relic as well. We need all of it. I'll explain later."

"Yeah, got it."

Ren continued, "We're going to dig. And when we reach it, this village will never fear drought again."

Behind him, the Wasteland Tower caught the first light of morning.

***

Ren sat alone beneath the Wasteland Tower.

The village had quieted. Voices faded. Only the wind remained.

Whispering through the ruined stones, brushing against the tents and half-mended sheds like a ghost passing through memory.

He set the relic across his knees, the old metal catching the moonlight in dull glints. Not polished. Not decorative. Just… as is.

It is a water drill.

Exactly like the ones he used back home. Spiral grooves, changeable tips, a handle balanced just right for torque.

He stared at it for a long time.

"This thing was waiting for me," he muttered.

His hand drifted into his coat, pulling out the map. The faint glow had faded now, leaving only the etched parchment.

Still unreadable to anyone but him.

But earlier, it had lit up. Right above this place. The exact dot.

Why?

He turned both items over in his hands. The map had shown water. The water drill to reach it.

Not a coincidence, he thought. But how could it know that I need?

He looked toward the dark horizon, where the buried veins still pulsed faintly in his memory.

Maybe it was just luck, finding this tool. But it felt weird… felt like more than luck.

The map wasn't just showing him things, but guiding him.

Responding to his needs?

Or maybe… responding to him.

His fingers traced the shaft again. It didn't shimmer now, but it held a strange warmth, as if it remembered being used by someone like him.

Whoever had left this behind hadn't done so by accident. They'd planned it. At least, that's what Ren believed.

Prepared for someone to come after. Someone who could read the map. Someone who knew what it meant when a blue line appeared under the soil.

Ren exhaled slowly, thoughts spinning.

"Who were you?" he whispered to the relic. "And what were you building… or saving… or hiding?"

The wind didn't answer.

But in the silence, the mystery grew.

He leaned back against the stone, map and tool resting in his lap, and looked up at the stars.

He didn't know it yet. But this land had fought before.

Farms and cities now stood on old bones and buried metal.

And somewhere deep beneath his village, the past wasn't done speaking.