51. Unexpected

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickers of amber light across the worn walls of Salis Phantos' cottage. The scent of boiling roots and old wood hung in the air. The Band of Sumir sat around the table—Riven leaned back with arms crossed, Elsie ran a thumb over her dagger's hilt, and Jack watched the old man quietly, eyes alert behind his fatigue.

Salis poured them each a cup of steaming herb tea, his hands trembling slightly from age. Then he sat down, groaning as his knees bent.

"I knew it the moment I saw your formation," Salis said, gaze steady. "The way you moved in silence. How you scanned the exits even while praying. That's no band of travelers. That's military—ritual military."

Jack didn't respond right away. "You could just be guessing."

Salis chuckled. "I could. But I'm not. You're the Band of Sumir. An old name… hidden under the skin of this world like a scar no one talks about. How far I know 'Sumir' is a name of an ancient civilization. "

Khloe raised an eyebrow. "And how would you know that?"

Salis tapped the wooden table with a crooked finger. "My father."

Andy shifted slightly.

"I was just a child when he used to vanish for weeks. Come back with strange wounds, whispering things in a language I didn't understand. My mother hated it—said he was mad. But I remember the way he stared at the stars like they were maps. I remember how he would flinch at certain church hymns… and how he buried a small black box beneath the floorboards, swearing me never to touch it."

Salis sighed, eyes distant. "After he died, I opened it. Inside was a book. Half-burned, written in a script that changed when you looked too long. One page had the words: 'Sumir does not walk in sunlight. They move between where gods have died.'"

Andy's eyes narrowed. "What happened to the book?"

"I burned it. It felt… wrong. Like it knew I didn't belong to it."

Jack finally spoke. "So you've known about the Miracle Invokers since then?"

"No," Salis admitted. "I didn't understand what I'd seen until years later. Old ruins, nameless tombs, secret names passed between dying men. All threads that led to a single phrase, Miracle Invokers are the blade that bleeds miracles."

Randy whistled softly. "That's not even recorded in any public archive."

"I'm not a fool," Salis said. "I'm not a Miracle Invoker, no. But blood remembers. My father was one… and something of him still hums in my bones when you people walk through a town."

Silence settled for a moment.

Then Andy gave a low grunt. "You're not wrong. We are the Band."

Salis nodded slowly. "Then I won't ask your real names. Just this—when the sky cracks open again… will you stand where my father did?"

Jack looked at the flames, then back at the old man.

"If we don't… no one will."

Salis smiled faintly, eyes glistening in firelight. "Then maybe the world still has a chance."

....

Randy leaned forward, finally breaking the tension. "So, Salis, what are you really? A retired Seer? A librarian of dead worlds?"

Salis chuckled. "I'm just an old man with too much memory."

Andy grinned. "That's what every secret keeper says right before unlocking a vault."

Khloe sipped her tea, studying Salis. "You've seen things no ordinary civilian should. That book, that language… and the way you speak of Sumir."

Jack stood slowly, setting his cup down with a soft clink. "Then let's test something. You said your father left blood in your bones."

Salis raised an eyebrow. "What are you proposing?"

"A duel," Jack said simply. "Not to harm. Just to see what breathes beneath your skin."

Randy whistled. "Jack, you sure? The man's ancient."

Jack didn't look away. "Exactly why I want to know how he's still alive."

Salis held Jack's gaze for a long moment. Then he stood with surprising ease. "Fine. But not here."

He turned and walked toward the back of the cottage, pulled back a dusty curtain, and opened a trapdoor with a creaking groan. A narrow staircase spiraled downward into shadow.

"Follow me," Salis said.

....

The basement was not a basement—it was a preserved relic. Arched walls lined with rusted silver pipes, fragmented glyphs carved into stone, and shattered equipment arranged like skeletal remains of a lost age. A circular platform sat in the center, engraved with a five-pointed star and ringed with old iron.

"This was my father's sanctum," Salis said. "He called it his 'Proof.' I never dared touch the core."

The Band stood in awe.

"It's… an ancient Ritual Lab," Khloe murmured. "Intact. Functional."

"And reactive," Salis added, stepping onto the platform. "It awakens when two marked ones cross its circle."

Jack cracked his neck and followed. "Then let's wake it."

The air shimmered as he stepped into the circle. Glyphs flared with pale indigo light, and the platform let out a hum like a distant storm.

Randy, Andy, and Khloe moved to the railing, watching intently.

Jack drew no weapon. He simply raised his stance, low and tight, eyes sharp. Salis mirrored him—his arms trembling slightly, but his breath steady.

Then the duel began.

Jack moved first, darting forward in a low dash, fists aimed for Salis's center. But Salis twisted unnaturally to the left, catching Jack's wrist mid-air and redirecting him into a pivot that slammed the younger man's back toward the stone. Jack twisted mid-fall and landed with a skid, already rebounding with a strike from below.

The older man swayed just enough to evade, then tapped Jack's shoulder with two fingers momentarily numbing his right arm.

"Pressure points," Randy noted. "He's using old Meridian Disruption techniques."

Jack recovered, switching stances. He circled, eyes narrowing. He struck with speed this time—faint jabs, misdirected swings, sudden feints meant to lure. Salis blocked one, two—then faltered on the third.

Jack seized the opening. His foot hooked Salis's ankle, and for a brief moment, the old man stumbled.

But just as Jack lunged, Salis dropped flat—rolling beneath the attack with serpentine grace. His cane, which had gone unnoticed until now, whipped around and struck Jack's knee from behind, sending him crashing down.

Jack's breath hissed through his teeth.

Salis stood, tapping the cane against the floor. "Not bad."

"Likewise," Jack muttered, sitting up. "You hid your strength until I got arrogant."

"You never used your Route."

"I didn't have to."

Salis smiled. "No. You didn't. But if you had. If you'd tapped even once into your active route, I wouldn't have lasted ten seconds."

Jack exhaled, nodding. "You're sharp."

Khloe folded her arms, eyes narrowed. "That movement style… it's not just instinct. You've been trained in anti-Routinal counters."

Andy leaned over. "I think his father taught him more than bedtime stories."

Salis tapped the glyph with his cane. The glowing symbols dimmed.

"I didn't challenge you to win," he said, walking off the platform. "I did it to feel it again. That hum in my bones. The old blood recognizing its mirror."

Jack stood and bowed slightly. "You've earned my respect."

Randy whistled again. "Alright, old man. You got moves. But what else is in this lab?"

Salis gestured to a locked iron chest in the corner. "Maybe answers. Maybe nothing but dead dreams. But if the Band of Sumir truly wishes to challenge the Ruinborn, then the Rituals you seek those buried pieces of the Peer Route—they might start here."

Jack turned to the chest. "Then we search."

Salis looked at them, his eyes now heavier. "But know this every Ritual has a price. And in this lab… not all prices were paid in full."

The air grew quiet.

And the Band of Sumir knew this was no longer just a meeting.

The candlelight in Salis's study flickered, casting jagged shadows across the old man's wrinkled face. The warmth from the fire did little to soften the cold in his voice.

"I need a favor," he said at last, his tone calm but heavy.

The Band of Sumir exchanged quiet glances. Jack leaned forward. "Favor?"

Salis nodded. "North-East of this town lies a forgotten graveyard. Not even the mapmakers bother naming it anymore. But something... unnatural is festering there."

Randy's brow furrowed. "Unnatural, like how?"

"The air bends wrong," Salis said. "Light flickers even when the wind's still. Animals avoid the place. And last night, some people saw a rip in space itself. Just for a moment, like a curtain drawn back. They say a creature watching me."

Andy tensed. "What kind of creature?"

"One that didn't belong in this world. It had no shape—just weight, and presence. Like it had stepped through the skin of reality."

Jack scoffed. "You think they're connected to the Tentacles?"

Salis replied with a nod " No ".

Khloe asked softly, "And what do you want us to do?"

"Go to the graveyard. Cleanse it. Whatever's nesting there, kill it or seal to it. Before this town becomes the first to vanish."

Silence settled. Then Jack stood, cracking his knuckles. "Well… never trusted graveyards anyway."

Salis gave a tired smile. "They wear illusions like skin. And not everything that speaks with your tongue is your ally."

Randy looked toward the door. "Guess we've got another ordinary ahh Tuesday."

Salis's eyes gleamed. "And the world holds its breath, hoping you're not too late."

....

A corrugated tin roof groaned above as wind lashed the sides of the old hunting shack. The walls were stained with time and silence, the kind of silence that remembered too much. Lantern-light swayed on rusted hooks, throwing long shadows across the three figures gathered around an oil-stained table.

Carla Patron sat with her hands folded stiffly in front of her. Her back was crooked from years of battle and bureaucracy, and the once-deep blue Vanguard insignia on her shoulder patch had faded to near-gray. Her eyes, though, were still sharp. Observant. Haunted.

Nelson leaned against a wooden post, arms crossed, staring at the floor like it was about to give way. Jeff sat on a crate, one leg bouncing nervously, the heavy silence pressing on his chest.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Carla began, her voice gravelly with age. "Graveyards don't shift. Not unless something's stirring beneath them."

Jeff gave a skeptical chuckle. "You talk like the soil's alive."

Carla turned her eyes to him, slow and unblinking. "Sometimes it is."

That quieted him.

Nelson stepped forward. "We picked up spatial instability on three layers. Veins of distortion, curving like roots under the tombs. One of our readings went backwards."

Carla nodded grimly. "Time folds. That land up northeast's not ordinary. Before Vanguard got there, before even the first settlers... it was a binding ground. Old rites. Deep Ones. Forgotten hands kept it sealed."

Jeff frowned. "But why's it cracking now?"

Carla's hands trembled. "Because something wants out. Maybe something was summoned or maybe it's just been starving."

The wind howled, rattling the walls. A tree branch scraped against the window like a finger begging to be let in.

"They sent the Band of Sumir," Nelson said quietly.

Carla looked up sharply. "Then we'd best pray they're more than just names in a registry. That graveyard's not a battleground—it's a memory. One that bites back."

"...I'm just saying," Jack said with far too much conviction, "if you put armor on a horse, technically it's a knight too."

"No it's not," Randy shot back, stumbling slightly over a vine root. "It's just a very confused horse with back pain."

Jack huffed, offended. "But it's wearing armor! That's like, ninety percent of the job description."

"I swear to the hollow gods," Randy muttered, dragging a palm down his face, "you'd knight a lamppost if it wore a helmet."

Behind them, Khloe moved in silence, arms folded, lips drawn tight in exasperation. She didn't even try to stop them anymore.

Trailing at the rear, Andy merely walked with solemnity, gaze sharp and forward, as if none of this stupidity existed. His hands were tucked behind his back, the only sound around him being the quiet crunch of leaves beneath his boots.

Nelson squinted toward the forest path. "...Do you hear that?"

"I hear something," Jeff replied, already rubbing the bridge of his nose, "and I think it's the death of reason."

"Of course I'd knight a lamppost!" Jack called as they emerged from the treeline. "If it holds its stance during a thunderstorm, that's courage."

Randy threw his hands up. "What are you even saying anymore?!"

"Light stands for hope!"

"You stand for nonsense!"

Carla turned to the approaching chaos, expression unreadable. She stared at Randy, then at Jack. Then at Andy, who gave her a curt nod. Finally, at Khloe—who only raised one brow, as if silently asking, please don't judge me for them.

Carla didn't speak. She turned slowly and picked up a small stone from the ground.

Nelson glanced at her warily. "Carla…?"

She hurled the stone. It struck Jack square on the shoulder.

"Ow!" Jack recoiled dramatically. "Was that necessary?"

"More than you know," Carla said flatly. "You idiots argue louder than the damned trees scream."

"You've heard the trees scream too?" Jack asked.

"That's not what I meant."

Khloe arrived, stepping into the broken circle of earth with quiet purpose. "They're right about one thing. The forest is louder than it should be."

Randy's grin fell. "Yeah. We felt it on the path. Pressure. Like...like breathing, but coming from the ground."

Jeff handed Andy a folded scroll. "Distortions spiked near the gravestones. Dead things are shifting. Something's pulling at time's thread."

Andy opened the scroll, read it quickly. "And it's unweaving faster than expected."

Nelson jabbed a thumb toward the graveyard. "Crows were circling counterclockwise. Wind moved in spirals. We lost sight of our own shadows for a minute."

Jack suddenly looked uneasy. "Shadows not following us… that's never a good omen."

Randy's voice lowered. "Whatever's in there isn't just waking up. It's remembering."

Khloe looked at them all. "Then let's make sure it doesn't finish remembering."

A cold wind hissed from the graveyard.

And the ground beneath them pulsed.