The Map Only I Can Read

The smell of porridge drifted from the kitchen tent as villagers gathered their vouchers, ready for another day. Children's laughter echoed between the huts, sticks clacking like wooden swords.

Ren watched from the tower rooftop, eyes drifting toward the fields—then to the thin trickle of water running from the ridge. The flow was slower than yesterday.

We're using it faster than it gives. Have to find more, he thought, jaw tight.

Ren could tell just by looking. He couldn't ask them to save water—cooking and watering the fields were vital. If the blue vein on the map really marked groundwater, it could change everything.

But he forced himself to stop. Not now. Don't chase it too hard.

Ren climbed down from the rooftop and joined the others in the tent for breakfast.

Inside, voices filled the space—soft chatter, the clink of spoons. The villagers ate, smiling after each bite. It stirred something in his chest.

If I fail them… if I can't keep those smiles… The thought hit hard. He knew he'd never forgive himself.

He had chosen this. Chosen to help. And now it was like pushing a broken-down cart uphill. The moment he stopped to breathe, it would roll back on him. He couldn't let up—not even for a second.

He had to dig in, grit his teeth, and keep pushing.

Because quitting meant getting crushed.

***

Evening was settling in—and so was hunger.

The clatter of wooden spoons and iron cutlery echoed beneath the stone ceiling. Dinner had begun.

Ren sat at the long table, eyes fixed on the plate before him—not in hunger, but in thought.

Not enough water. Not enough time.

A faint odor of sweat and soil clung to his clothes. Another reminder: if they didn't solve this soon, illness would follow.

Across the table, Tobren studied him. "What's on your mind now?"

Ren blinked, pulled from his thoughts. "Just... thinking about how to find more water."

Tobren gave a half-laugh. "Don't overthink it. We're better off than before. Be grateful.."

Ren met his eyes. "It won't be enough. Believe me—I've seen what happens when hope runs dry."

Tobren exhaled, nodding slowly. "Then tell me that story someday. So I can understand."

"Later." Ren lifted his spoon. "For now, eat. And don't forget what I said—watch the tower's shadow. And how much they water."

Tobren smiled faintly. "Got it. Let's eat."

***

A cold, quiet night. The moon hung pale above the village, and stars blinked in the silence.

But Ren couldn't sleep.

He sat up in bed, still believing there had to be another way. Even if it was buried. Even if it was hidden.

He reached for the magical map resting on the small table beside him.

It flickered. A faint glowing pulsed near the bottom-left corner—southwest of the village.

Ren sat up straighter. "What now...?" he whispered.

He threw on his coat and slipped quietly down the stairs, waking Tobren, Halrick, and the guild members.

Moments later, they gathered in the tower's common floor as Ren unrolled the glowing map.

He pointed at the pulsing dot. "Does anyone know what this is?"

The guild members raised their hands, shaking their heads. They weren't locals.

But Halrick furrowed his brow. "If I remember right… there was a tower there once."

Ren turned sharply. "A tower?"

"Let me finish," Halrick said.

He spoke slowly, piecing together memories.

"When I first came here, nothing was left. Just a few old folks. Sick. Dying. Some of us buried the dead in that area. There was a tower too—but broken. Roofless. No door. Looked like it had collapsed decades ago."

Ren nodded slowly. "That's the spot."

He stood up, voice gaining urgency. "Lanton, ready the cart. Take Becca and Doro. Guild members, arm up. Tobren and I will bring digging tools. We meet at the gate."

Tobren raised a brow. "You sure about this?"

Ren's expression didn't waver. "Trust me. I don't take risks that'll ruin us."

They scattered, regrouping minutes later at the village edge.

The cart rolled swiftly under the starlight, the road nothing but a memory. The night swallowed most of the land, but ahead floated a soft ember of light—steady, warm, and just bright enough to mark the way. Kaela rode quietly, her left hand resting on her leather book.

The ruins came into view. A half-crushed structure, black against the sky. What remained of its tower jutted like a broken tooth from the earth.

Inside Ren's coat, the map warmed faintly. He could feel it—alive. A quiet pulse in tune with the land.

They dismounted.

Lanton and Halrick stayed with the horses. The others followed Ren into the ruins, steps crunching on dried moss and shattered stone.

"Kaela, can you make it brighter?" Ren asked.

"Easy." The small spark at her side flared brighter, casting a gentle light that filled the space with warmth.

They spread out, running fingers along stone edges, scanning for carvings, triggers—anything.

"We don't even know what we're looking for," Kaela muttered.

Ren paused, thinking. Then he frowned. The floor beneath him didn't feel right.

Wood?

"Back up," he said sharply. "Let me try something."

Everyone stepped away. Ren stomped once. Twice.

The third stomp landed with a different note. Hollow.

"Tobren. The hoe."

Tobren handed over the hoe. Ren dropped to one knee and worked at the floorboards, prying them up one by one. The wood splintered under his grip, revealing another layer—thicker, reinforced, meant to stay hidden.

He kept at it, slow and steady, until the blade struck something solid. A hollow clunk echoed through the ruin.

Ren brushed the debris aside, fingers finding the cold edge of metal. A hatch. A hidden door.

"Everyone, over here."

They gathered around, Kaela's light caught the iron latch embedded in the wood.

"This is what we came for," Ren said.

He turned. "Lanton, Halrick, Solen, Mirana—stay here, just in case. The rest of you—come with me."

He looked at Kaela.

"Light the way."

Kaela hesitated. "No way I'm going first. I'll shine from the back, thank you very much."

Ren smirked. "Scared?"

"Not scared. Just smart. I don't walk into places I don't know."

He shook his head. "Fine. Stay close."

He grabbed the latch. The hatch creaked open, revealing darkness and a worn, stone staircase spiraling downward.

As Ren stepped inside, the stone walls around them pulsed faintly.

One by one, glowing runes began to shimmer from the edges of the ancient bricks—soft and slow, like something waking after a long, long sleep.

Kaela gasped. "What... is this place?"

Ren didn't answer.

Because the map in his pocket was pulsing.