Maple forced herself to relax, though the tension remained coiled in her chest. "Just wondering if I'm finally losing my mind. Chasing dragons like some delusional treasure hunter instead of a serious archaeologist."
"Hey." Ben's hand touched her arm briefly—a rare gesture from someone who usually kept his distance. "Seriousarchaeologists don't make the discoveries that rewrite textbooks. Serious archaeologists catalog how other people lived instead of truly living themselves."
The unexpected support made her throat tighten. "And if there's nothing here? If I've dragged us both into legal trouble for nothing?"
"Then we'll deal with that too." Ben's smile was crooked but genuine. "Besides, I've got bail money saved up."
The landscape around them shifted as they climbed higher, the red rock giving way to something older and stranger. Carved channels in the stone suggested water flow, but the patterns were too geometric, too purposeful to be natural erosion. And there—barely visible unless you knew what to look for—symbols etched into the rock face that made Maple's breath catch.
"Ben." Her voice came out as a whisper. "Look at this."
He moved to her side, following her gaze to the carved symbols. His expression shifted from skepticism to professional interest in the space of a heartbeat.
"Those aren't Native American. Or Spanish colonial." He traced one of the symbols with his finger, careful not to touch the ancient stone. "I've never seen anything like this."
"Neither have I." The lie came easily, though her heart was racing. She had seen symbols like these—in dreams that felt more like memories, in sketches she'd made as a child and hidden away years ago. "But they match the fragments I've been tracking."
The pull was stronger now, almost overwhelming. Whatever waited ahead felt close enough to taste, and Maple found herself walking faster despite the growing heat and the weight of her pack.
This was it.
The moment she'd been building toward her entire career, though she'd never admitted it even to herself until now. Thechance to prove that wonder still existed in a world that had cataloged and explained away most of its mysteries.
But if she was wrong—if this turned out to be another dead end, another fragment of wishful thinking disguised as archaeological evidence—then she would stop. No more chasing rumors and following hunches that led nowhere. No more risking her reputation on the slim possibility that dragons had once walked the earth.
But if she was right…
The thought made her dizzy with excitement and terror in equal measure. Because finding proof that dragons existed would mean everything she'd been taught about the world was incomplete. Everything she'd learned to dismiss as fantasy might be real.
And that would change everything.
Hours later, the canyon walls rose high around them like ancient guardians, carved red stone stretching toward a sky so blue it hurt to look at directly. Maple felt the familiar ache in her shoulders as she shrugged off her pack, the weight hitting the ground with a muffled thud that seemed too loud in the vast silence.
Ben dropped his own pack beside hers, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Well, we made it this far without getting arrested. That's something."
"Let's hope our luck continues."
Maple knelt beside her pack, unzipping the main compartment to reveal their carefully selected tools—nothing too large, nothing that would scream 'archaeological excavation.' Just a couple of small folding shovels, brushes, and hand tools that could pass for routine camping gear.
The pull was strongest here, so intense it made her fingers tremble as she lifted her shovel. Whatever waited beneath the earth called to her with a resonance that bypassed rationalthought entirely, settling deep in her bones like a tuning fork struck against stone.
The artifact has to be here.The certainty blazed through her chest, hot and bright and terrifying.
Ben crouched beside her, studying the ground with the methodical attention of someone who'd spent years reading terrain for archaeological potential. "The soil composition looks promising. Undisturbed layers, minimal erosion patterns." He glanced up at her, his expression cautious. "But I have to say it again—this feels wrong, Maple."
"What do you mean?"
"We're not just trespassing on land here. This feels like something more significant than a random artifact."
The words sent a chill down her spine despite the desert heat. She followed his gaze across the landscape, noting the way the canyon walls seemed to curve inward here, creating a natural amphitheater that felt hidden from the world.
"All the more reason to find it quickly." She pressed the blade of her shovel into the earth, the metal scraping against stone and packed dirt.
They worked in companionable silence, the rhythmic scrape of tools against earth the only sound. Maple's heart hammered as they carved away layers of sediment, each scoop bringing them closer to whatever waited below.
Please be there. Please be real. Please don't let this be another dead end.
The minutes stretched like hours. Fifteen minutes became twenty, then twenty-five. Ben's movements grew more mechanical, less hopeful, while Maple fought against the growing knot of despair in her chest.
