Doc's eyes opened to familiar stone walls and the soft weight of Fish curled against his legs. His prosthetic arm lay motionless across his chest, and for a moment he couldn't quite piece together how he'd gotten from the gateway chamber to his bed.

  Lux, what happened last night? I remember walking to my room with Ironha, then... nothing.

  You collapsed from exhaustion approximately thirty-seven seconds after sitting on your bed. The combination of healing potion compounds and accelerated nanite repair protocols increased your recovery rate by roughly three hundred percent. To ensure proper healing alignment, I triggered your sleep neurochemistry.

  Doc blinked, processing that information. You drugged me?

  I optimized your recovery cycle. The distinction is meaningful.

  A dry chuckle escaped him. Trust Lux to find the most clinical way possible to say he'd been knocked unconscious by his own AI. Though he had to admit, he felt significantly better than he had any right to after punching an ancient construct.

  Lux, note for future research, investigate interaction between local healing compounds and nanite enhancement protocols.

  Already logged. I have seventeen preliminary hypotheses ready for review.

  Of course he did.

  Doc sat up carefully, testing his ribs. The sharp pain from last night had faded to a dull ache, manageable enough that he could move without wincing. Given his unplanned adventure through the gateway, he decided discretion was the better part of valor and reached for his exploration suit.

  If I'm going to keep accidentally teleporting into construct-infested caves, I should probably dress for the occasion.

  The suit's familiar weight settled around him like a second skin, systems coming online with their usual soft hum. Fish lifted her head, amber eyes tracking his movements with that uncanny intelligence that still made him wonder exactly what she'd become.

  "Morning, Fish. Ready for another day of me making questionable decisions?"

  She stretched, shook herself, and padded to the door with the kind of patient resignation that suggested she'd already accepted her fate as his unofficial keeper.

  Doc stepped into the corridor, Fish trailing at his heels, and immediately found himself face-to-face with a very serious-looking Lina. The young healer stood with her arms crossed, honey-blonde braids slightly askew as if she'd been waiting for some time.

  Her frown could have carved stone.

  "You're supposed to be resting today. Healer's orders."

  Doc bit back a smile at the sight of eleven-year-old Lina trying to project maximum authority. The effect was somewhere between intimidating and adorable, weighted heavily toward the latter.

  Doc crouched down to Lina's level, bringing himself to her eye height. Her serious expression didn't waver, but he caught the faint flicker of uncertainty behind her determination.

  "Tell you what," he said, keeping his voice gentle. "If I promise to take things easy today, would you allow me to check on the runic gateway? Just a quick look to make sure everything's stable."

  Lina's brow furrowed as she considered this. Her fingers worried at the edge of her healer's apron, clearly weighing her newfound authority against what seemed like a reasonable request.

  "Maybe," she said finally. "But first, we need to grab breakfast. You didn't eat enough yesterday, and healing potions work better when you're not running on empty."

  Doc smiled, genuinely impressed by her clinical reasoning. "Fair point. Lead the way, Healer Lina."

  "Follow me," she said in her most serious tone, then turned and marched toward the eating area with the kind of purposeful stride that suggested she'd been practicing.

  As they walked through the temple corridors, Doc found himself adjusting his pace to match hers. Fish padded alongside them, occasionally glancing up at Doc with what he could swear was amusement.

  "So how are you liking your new class?" Doc asked.

  Lina's composure cracked immediately, excitement bubbling up through her measured healer's demeanor. "It's amazing! I can feel when the herbs want to work together, like they're talking to each other. And yesterday I made three perfect fever tonics in a row without any help."

  Her hands gestured as she spoke, nearly knocking into a wall sconce in her enthusiasm. "Ironha says I have good instincts for brewing, but she hasn't taught me the high healing potions yet. Hob's still working on growing the rarer ingredients we need. But she says I'll learn those soon!"

  Doc nodded, noting how her voice carried the particular pride of someone who'd found their calling. "Sounds like you're a natural at it."

  "Ironha says the best healers listen to what the medicine wants to do, not just follow recipes. That makes sense to me."

  They passed the rabbit pen, where Tavi was already busy helping Tanna distribute feed to the small herd of Phasehorn Rabbits. Tinyhorn, recognizable by her distinctive curled horn, hopped close to the fence as they approached. Tavi looked up from her work and waved, grinning as several rabbits clustered around her feet.

  "Morning, Doc! Lina!" Tavi called out. "Three new kits last night. Tanna says the herd's growing really quickly."

  "That's great news," Doc replied, waving back. The sight of the thriving rabbit colony was oddly satisfying, another small victory in their ongoing effort to build something sustainable.

  Tanna emerged from the pen's small shelter, carrying an empty feed bucket. She nodded to them with her usual smile. "The morning's off to a good start. How are you feeling, Doc?"

  "Better than I have any right to be," Doc admitted. "Lina's making sure I don't overdo it today."

  "Good," Tanna said simply. "Listen to her. Healers know what they're talking about."

  Lina practically glowed at the endorsement, her chest puffing out just slightly. As they continued toward the eating area, Doc caught her trying to suppress a pleased smile.

  "See?" she said quietly. "Even Tanna agrees. Healers know best."

  Doc and Lina eventually arrived at the eating area, where the familiar sounds of morning preparation filled the air. Bran stood over a large pot, stirring what smelled like hearty porridge, while Fenn worked beside him, carefully slicing bread with the focused concentration of someone still learning the rhythm.

  "Morning, Bran! Morning, Fenn!" Lina called out, her healer's authority melting back into the cheerful enthusiasm of a child. "Could Doc and I get some food? And maybe some of that fresh bread?"

  Bran looked up from his stirring, his face creasing into a smile. "Course you can. Got plenty today." He ladled porridge into two wooden bowls, then gave Fenn a meaningful look. The boy nodded and reached for the bread, cutting two thick slices with careful concentration.

  Doc's attention, however, had been caught by something else entirely. Near the cooking area sat a sleek, matte-black appliance that definitely hadn't been there yesterday. The device was clearly technological in origin, clean lines, smooth surfaces, and a control interface that practically screamed "fabricator output."

  "Bran," Doc said, nodding toward the device, "what's that?"

  Bran followed his gaze and his smile widened. "That? That's the finest piece of cookware I've ever worked with. Don't know what enchantment young Calen and Carl put on it, but it holds heat like nothing I've seen. Even, steady, hot as you want it or gentle as a summer breeze."

  He gestured toward the device with obvious appreciation. "Calen brought it out yesterday morning, showed me how to work the... the glyphs, I suppose you'd call them. Said he figured I could use something better than the old fire pit for bread making."

  Fenn nodded enthusiastically, pausing in his bread-cutting. "It makes the most amazing loaves. The crust comes out perfect every time."

  Doc stared at the oven, processing what he was seeing. I never thought to use the fabricator for mundane applications like cooking equipment or preservation. Leave it to Carl to think practically about everyday problems.

  Carl's approach demonstrates superior resource optimization, Lux observed. While you focused on complex prosthetics and experimental devices, he addressed immediate quality-of-life improvements for the community.

  Point taken. Doc had to admit, Carl's instincts were serving the settlement better than his own tendency toward theoretical solutions. An oven that worked reliably was probably more valuable day-to-day than most of the experimental equipment he'd been considering.

  "That's really impressive work," Doc said to Bran. "Calen and Carl have been busy."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Aye, they have. Don't understand how they do what they do, but I'm grateful for it." Bran handed Doc a bowl of steaming porridge and a slice of bread that was still warm from the oven. "Makes the job easier, and the food better. Can't ask for more than that."

  Doc accepted the food gratefully, breathing in the rich, hearty smell. The bread was indeed perfectly baked, golden crust with a soft interior that practically begged to be eaten while warm.

  "Thank you, Bran. This smells incredible."

  They found seats at one of the simple wooden tables that had been crafted by Brenn. Fish settled beside Doc's chair, chin resting on her paws as she watched the morning activity with alert amber eyes.

  Doc had just taken his first bite and confirmed that Bran's assessment of the oven was absolutely correct, when heavy footsteps approached their table. He looked up to see Mazoga and Dulric walking toward them, both wearing expressions that suggested this wasn't a social visit.

  Before either could speak, however, Lina looked up from her porridge with bright eyes.

  "Are you hungry? There's plenty of food left, and Bran made fresh bread with that amazing thing Carl built."

  Both warriors paused, caught off-guard by the simple offer. Mazoga's stern expression softened around the edges, while Dulric's weathered features creased into something approaching fondness.

  "That's very thoughtful of you," Mazoga began, but Lina was already standing.

  "I'll get you bowls and plates! Bran always makes extra anyway." She bustled off toward the cooking area with the kind of determination that brooked no argument.

  Dulric chuckled, shaking his head as he watched her go. "Six months ago we were prisoners of bandits, half-starved and wondering if we'd see another sunrise." He settled onto the bench across from Doc, his voice carrying a note of wonder. "And now look at us. Children offering us breakfast in a sanctuary, worrying about whether we've eaten enough."

  Mazoga took the seat beside Dulric, her amber eyes following Lina's path to Bran's cooking station. "Strange how things change," she agreed quietly. "Sometimes for the better."

  Doc found himself smiling at the exchange. There was something profoundly satisfying about watching hardened warriors soften in the face of a child's simple kindness. It spoke to how far they'd all come from those desperate early days.

  Dulric's attention returned to Doc, his expression growing more serious. "Maz told me about your adventure last night. Gateway, cave, giant construct trying to flatten you." He leaned forward slightly. "I'd like to hear the details myself, if you don't mind. Particularly what you saw around you."

  Doc nodded, setting down his spoon. "The gateway opened into a large natural cave. Stone walls, carved passages leading deeper into the mountain. The ceiling was maybe thirty feet high, with what looked like ventilation shafts or light wells carved up through the rock."

  "And the gateway itself?" Dulric prompted.

  "Similar to ours, but fully active. Runic inscriptions around the arch, though the script looked different. More angular, geometric patterns rather than the flowing lines we see in the Silvan texts."

  Dulric's bushy eyebrows rose slightly. "Go on. What about the construct?"

  Doc recalled the encounter, Lux providing perfect recall of the details. "Bronze and stone construction, roughly humanoid but larger than any person. Maybe ten feet tall, with a single blue eye in the center of its head. It moved with mechanical precision, but there was definitely intelligence behind its actions. Purpose."

  "The eye," Dulric said, leaning forward with sudden interest. "Blue light, you said? Constant glow, or did it change?"

  "Constant glow when it was active. Dimmed when it was processing or recalibrating. Why?"

  Dulric was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming against the wooden table. Lina returned with bowls and bread for both warriors, beaming as she set them down.

  "There you go! Eat while it's warm."

  "Thank you, lass," Dulric said warmly, then turned back to Doc as Lina settled into her seat with obvious satisfaction.

  "Maz," Dulric said slowly, "what do you think of what Doc's described?"

  Mazoga paused in her eating, considering. "Sounds like something old. Really old. The kind of place that was built to last and guard something important."

  Dulric nodded. "Aye, that's what I'm thinking too." He turned back to Doc. "There were dwarven colonies, before the Great Clan Wars. Lost settlements scattered across the northern territories. Most were abandoned when the clans consolidated for defense."

  Doc felt a spark of interest. This was the first he'd heard of dwarven history beyond Dulric's personal story.

  "From what you've described," Dulric continued, "the construction, the guardian design, the runic work... it sounds like one of those lost colonies. I don't know much about them, mind you. But I spent time in the Grand Scriptorium at Khazak-Thrum before my clan scattered. Read enough old texts to recognize the patterns."

  He took a bite of bread, chewing thoughtfully. "If I'm right, that cave of yours might be more than just an old refuge. Could be a proper dwarven outpost, complete with forges, workshops, maybe even archives."

  Fish lifted her head from her paws, ears perked as if she sensed the shift in conversation toward something significant.

  "The question is," Dulric said, meeting Doc's eyes, "what was it built to guard? And how is it still active after all these years?"

  Doc nodded, his mind racing through the implications of what Dulric had just shared. A lost dwarven colony. If we could properly explore that place, map its layout, understand its purpose... there's no telling what we might find.

  He shook his head, refocusing on the immediate concern. "Regardless," he said, looking directly at Mazoga, "it's our way out. What do you think we should do?"

  Mazoga set down her spoon, her expression thoughtful as she considered the question. The silence stretched for nearly a minute before she spoke.

  "This isn't a decision we should make on our own," she said finally. "We've built something here. A safe haven, a community. People have put down roots, found their purpose." Her amber eyes swept across the eating area, taking in the sounds of morning life around them. "Before we go charging through mysterious gateways, we need to gather everyone who has a stake in this and come up with a proper plan."

  Doc found himself nodding in agreement, struck once again by Mazoga's approach to leadership. He'd served under officers who made snap decisions based on incomplete information, and others who deliberated endlessly without ever committing to action. But Mazoga had this rare ability to recognize when decisive action was needed and when consultation was wiser. She could charge headfirst into battle when the situation demanded it, yet had the humility to seek counsel when the stakes affected more than just herself.

  That's what makes her a good military leader, he reflected. She knows the difference between tactical decisions and strategic ones.

  "Agreed," Doc said. "When do you want to meet?"

  Mazoga pushed back from the table, Dulric rising with her. "I'll gather everyone who needs to know. We'll meet near the gateway in an hour, see what we're dealing with firsthand before we talk options."

  As the two walked away, their voices fading into the general murmur of the morning, Doc remained at the table with his half-finished breakfast. Fish rested her chin on his knee, sensing his contemplative mood.

  What else might we discover in that cave? The question echoed in his mind as he stared toward the temple's inner chambers where the gateway waited. Ancient dwarven forges, lost archives. The possibilities were intriguing, perhaps invaluable.

  But so was what they'd built here. Children learning their crafts, families finding stability, a community that had grown from desperate survival into something approaching prosperity.

  Is the promise of discovery worth risking what we've already achieved?

  Mazoga moved through the temple with steady purpose, gathering one voice after another. Bran at his oven, Hob and Edda in the fields, Ironha over her herbs, Marron with Jem and their ledgers, Tanna among the phasehorn kits, the brothers setting beams, Carl and Calen lost in sparks and soot. Each gave the same answer when she spoke of the gateway: they would be there.

  By the time she reached the chamber itself, Kesh was already standing guard, eyes fixed on the shimmering arch. “Quiet,” he told her simply. She gave him a nod, satisfied.

  The temple bustled on around her, But all of it, she knew, would pause in an hour when the meeting began.

  Mazoga stood at the edge of the gateway chamber as the group filed in, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stone walls. The portal itself hummed with a quiet, steady energy, its blue-white light spilling across weathered faces and casting long, uneasy shadows. Doc and Fish lingered near the far wall, while the others arranged themselves in a loose semicircle before the mysterious archway.

  “Alright,” Mazoga began, her voice carrying the steady authority of someone who had made hard calls before. “Doc’s experiment opened something we didn’t plan for. Before we decide on next steps, Dulric will tell us what we’re looking at.”

  The dwarf stepped forward, squaring himself against the shifting light. “From the carvings, the bronze guardian, and the stonework Doc described, I’d wager this leads to a lost dwarven colony. Pre-war era. Likely abandoned during the Clan conflicts centuries back.”

  He gestured toward the archway, expression darkening. “If I’m right, that place will be both treasure and trap. Our forges once shaped metals the world barely remembers, and our halls held archives of craft long lost. But colonies like this were sealed with guardians meant to bar entry forever. No one walked in lightly, not then and not now.”

  Mazoga nodded. “So the question is simple. Do we risk it?”

  Edda was the first to answer, her calm voice cutting through the hush. “We’ve built something good here. The sanctuary holds. The land provides. The children are safe and learning. There’s no immediate need to gamble all that on the unknown.”

  Tanna followed, her tone soft but firm. “I can’t leave, not yet. Tavi’s learning fast, but she isn’t ready to manage the rabbit colony alone. The new kits demand constant care. If I left now, we’d risk undoing months of careful work.”

  Carl leaned forward, unable to hold back his excitement. “But think about what could be waiting! Doc said the guardian construct was unlike anything we’ve studied. The engineering, the resonance patterns—this could redefine how magical machinery even works!”

  Calen nodded at that, silent but intent, his agreement plain enough.

  “Careful,” Marron cut in, though his voice held no malice. “I appreciate the excitement, but we need to weigh this properly.” He clasped his hands behind his back, words measured. “Life here has been safer than I imagined, but safety built on isolation won’t last. Supplies will thin eventually. Food and lumber, yes, we have abundance thanks to Hob and the brothers.” He nodded toward Hob, Tor, and Brenn. “But stone, iron, materials for Carl’s projects? Those will run out. And when they do, we’ll be stranded.”

  Tor grunted agreement. “He’s right. Wood and scrap will only get us so far. If we want lasting structures, if we want to grow, we need more than this forest can give.”

  Brenn nodded, quieter. “And the workshop needs proper stone and metal. That’s the difference between patchwork repairs and work that endures.”

  Mazoga turned to Doc, who had been silent throughout, his prosthetic fingers drumming a quiet rhythm against his thigh. He lifted his gaze at last, eyes thoughtful, calculating.

  “Small team,” he said simply. “Scout first. Assess, catalog, withdraw. No commitments until we know what’s on the other side.”

  Ironha stepped forward from the edge of the circle, her silver-toned hands folded neatly before her. “I’ve been brewing stronger healing draughts since yesterday. For a small expedition—five or six people at most—I can provide enough to manage serious injuries. But if the group is larger, I won’t have the stock.”

  The chamber fell quiet, the weight of choice pressing down like the stone above them. The portal’s light flickered across their faces, painting them with equal parts unease and anticipation.

  Mazoga took a slow breath, letting her gaze sweep the group—warrior, scholar, farmer, healer, builder, and child alike. All of them waiting for her to set the course.

  “Then it’s decided,” she said at last, her voice steady despite the unease curling low in her chest. “We’ll send a small team through. We’ll be cautious. We’ll be smart. But we’re going in.”

  Treasure and trap, Dulric had said. They would step through because they had to… but the unknown never gave up its secrets without a price.

  As the meeting broke apart, Mazoga stayed behind, watching others drift toward their duties. Voices faded into corridors, leaving only her in the chamber. She flexed her grip on the hammer, feeling weight settle in her bones. Smart choice, she told herself. Small team, careful step forward. But she knew the unknown didn't care how careful you were. Every path into darkness takes something. Question is what, and from who.

  She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. If there was a price waiting beyond that arch, she would bear it first. That's what wardens do. Hold the line so others don't have to.

  Thanks for reading!

  Chapter 34 drops Friday.