Sela handed Menna the shard they'd recovered upstream, its polished surface gleaming in the light.

"We pulled this out from the river downstream of the ruins," Sela said. "It was just sticking out of some rocks in the middle of the rapids."

Menna took it gingerly, already reaching into her satchel for tools. Before she even began testing, its energy seeped into her skin, thrumming gently beneath her palm.

She realized she now had access to a third point of comparison. This made even more evident the subtle variances in how the different types of shards express their energies. The river shard's power flowed, holding its charge in steady suspension. It didn't pulse like a shard mined from the deep, or flare like the shards gathered from the surface.

She brought out her lens kit and slid a focusing prism over its top facet. The light was refracted, not absorbed.

She placed the shard on a flat metal plate, which she then rested atop a tripod set over the fire. As the metal heated, Menna measured both the charge level and temperature of the shard, noting no significant reactions.

"This isn't like anything from the caldera," she pondered. "Sela, could we go back to the riverside? I want to check something."

"I'll accompany you," Sela nodded. "Ilkin, you and the Commander go… do a perimeter check."

The two Shy trekked the short distance back to the damaged dock where the pod still rested, Warby bounding behind them.

She dipped a copper probe into the river water, then brought it to the shard. The moment the damp metal touched it, the shard reacted, but almost imperceptibly.

Menna looked up at the water rat. "Can you ask Warby to swim around a bit in the river while carrying the shard?

"I had to hold him back from jumping in the water as soon as we got here," the Sunbrave patted the aquatic rodent's haunch. "Let me secure it to his harness."

"He can just do a loop around, get to where the water flows faster, then come back," Menna requested.

Warby plunged in with a joyful squeak, his sleek form traversing the river effortlessly. Secured to his harness, the shard left a faint shimmer in his wake, like sunlight dancing on ripples. Even against the currents, it took the water rat less than a minute to circle around before returning with the thoroughly wet shard.

Menna checked the charge again. There was a significant increase.

Sela frowned. "Did you expect that?"

"I had a hunch." Menna nodded. "Those mined react to heat and pressure while surface shards react to light. But this one does neither. I wonder if it was formed by the river itself, or was altered by the water, shaped and weathered by the currents, tempered by them somehow."

Sela's expression was caught halfway between skepticism and intrigue. She tapped her spear butt against the stone. "And what would that mean for us? Does this give us an advantage worth exploring?"

"It means we can easily charge them by submerging them in the currents, or maybe they stay topped up while immersed in flowing water," Menna explained. She sat back, eyes fixed on the glimmering crystal. "The Shy who used these shards wouldn't have needed to mine underground or strip the surface. But that all changed when they abandoned these settlements and moved into the caldera."

Examining the riverside ruins more closely, Menna could tell that they were older than any other structures mentioned in her studies. The very stones exhaled millennia of moisture and memory, of a time when their ancestors understood and navigated the world in fundamentally different ways. Her fingers traced the battered carvings and sockets, sensing the subtle humming beneath the surface even after all these ages.

Sela's eyes tracked the faint shimmer of glyphwork across the carved pillar holding up a corner of the platform.

"You think we can bring this place back to life?"

Menna nodded. "I think we need to. Knowing what we Shy face out here, it's important that we remember and recover all that we can from before the Sunveil."

Together they walked across the dock, continuing from where the stone gave way to sediment. Menna brushed aside layers of silt until more carvings emerged: concentric circles framed by a sunburst.

"Look, these are like the markers they use around the shard sockets for the elevators and waypods in the Deep. These other notches look like route glyphs, if we had the right parts that work with them, we can switch routes."

"We can just fix them up and they'll wake up with fresh shards?" Sela asked.

Menna traced the outermost ring of the circle. "I imagine… they weren't just moving cargo and travelers—they were moving ideas, culture, and wisdom. These were the lifelines of a unified civilization. Think about what that means," she continued, excitement coloring her voice. "Goods and people, knowledge and skills flowing all around, in and out of the caldera." She closed her eyes, hand still pressed to the stone. "Before we were closed off and separated, there was a time when we weren't defined by where we lived—Deep, Middle, or Sun. We were all just... Shy. Or maybe even a different name for one people?"

Sela remained guarded, but her expression softened. "That's… a nice legend. But stories aren't enough to keep us safe."

"Neither are walls and weapons. Not forever," Menna replied. "But I do know something better than a story. A song."

Sela looked at her sideways. "Are you about to start singing at me, Middleshy? This isn't exactly the best time and place for a serenade."

"We unearthed these… verses back in Obsidara," Menna continued, unruffled. "No one seemed to have picked up on them—not even in Umbryss Academy. But the lyrics imply deeper meanings. I've studied them, trying to understand what we lost. These ruins… are showing me the reality hinted at by this song."

Menna held up the river shard, returning it to Sela. "There were references to a "gleam" carved by streams where waters rushed."

"That sure sounds familiar," Sela quipped.

"You'd think it's all just ancient poetry, dense with metaphors." Menna smiled. "But then you realize they're clearly describing shards' energy signatures."

Sela crossed her arms. "How does knowing all that help us here and now?"

"We now know for sure that much of what was accidentally forgotten or deliberately obscured about arclith is proven real by this shard." Menna said. "The ancients' world was bigger, their magic grander. Before they broke arclith, before they shrank and split themselves apart. The song goes on about gates and veins being sealed, their glory falling and fading. But it also hints at paths still open, echoes calling, light enduring. Shards still singing, if anyone listens."

She looked up at Sela, eyes bright despite the reflected light from the river dimming around them.

"If we can fully harness these shards again, we can do more than fix up these old ruins. We might finally understand what the Veil really cost us." Menna paused, her gaze intense. "What if it's time to stop wasting so much arclith to keep fueling such a precarious, one-sided defense…"

Sela didn't answer immediately. Her gaze drifted toward the glyphwork beneath their feet, half-swallowed by the silt.

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She chuckled, but there was an edge to her mirth. "I couldn't even admit to my fellow Sunbraves what I was really thinking when I suggested rebuilding this base. That maybe, we should take advantage of us already being out here. We shouldn't just retreat behind the veil." She studied Menna, reassessing her. "And it's some random Middleshy scholar girl who's got the guts to really think big. To realize that we should stop hiding from the humans, cowering inside the caldera. We should beat them back."

"Oh, I'm not sure where we'd even start. I was just thinking out loud!" Menna admitted. "But… see what ideas we've come up with just being thrown together, different Shy with different lives. There's power to be gained from restoring our connections here."

"Your Deepshy companion, he thinks the same way?" Sela asked.

"I started teaching the song to Vazko when we were in the pod," Menna shared. "He picked it up easily, even if he didn't come up with any new insights. I think he struggles to see the meaning between the lines."

"Maybe because Deepguard are trained to work within the lines. You gotta take them out of the tunnels to see the bigger picture," Sela proposed, now sounding more supportive than adversarial compared to before.

Menna grinned. "Well, I did manage to take him out of the caldera. Interesting how, he ended up following his brother's lead after all."

Meanwhile, Vazko and Ilkin swept the tree-shadowed perimeter near the ruins. Sprawling mangrove roots and toppled stones marked old boundaries.

"Even out here, you strut around like a soldier, Deepshy" Ilkin observed.

Vazko shrugged. "I am one. Would there be a better way to walk in the wilds?"

"I thought most Deepguard Commanders wouldn't choose to step onto the surface if they can help it," Ilkin teased.

"I serve where I'm needed."

"So Menna and your brother needed you to come all this way, beyond the caldera?" Ilkin asked. "We could have used your help at Greyhold, though." The Sunbrave paused then adjusted his bow. "You Deepguard train for tunnels and corridors, yeah? Moving in tight formations. Blades and shoulders side by side."

Vazko nodded. "It's about precision, discipline, rhythm. In the Deep you know your role, stick to your lane."

"We're more flexible on the surface," Ilkin said. "Sunbraves learn to read the terrain, use the weather, watch for animal signs. We don't have lanes, or lines. Sometimes we work in pairs or small groups, spreading wide across the grasslands, shifting positions according to the wind and the sun's direction."

Vazko tried to picture it in his mind, moving without formation, no defined flanks, no rear guard. It felt reckless, chaotic. Yet there was something to it. The way Ilkin described it, there was a different kind of choreography.

"Sounds like an improvised dance," Vazko mused.

"I'd say it's more like music," Ilkin corrected. "But yeah, you could say we play to the beat of our own drums."

Vazko thought of the cadences he was familiar with: boots stomping along corridors, the strike-and-parry of drills, battle chants and marching hymns. His mind flashed back to the song Menna had taught him while in the pod. It seemed the surface went by its own tempo; one he now had the chance to learn better.

Vazko looked back toward the ruins. "You'd be prone to getting cornered in tunnels or tight walls."

Ilkin grinned. "And your men would get picked apart by birds in the open."

They glared at each other, tension simmering for a moment before easing into shared recognition of each other's stubbornness.

Ilkin's broke into a chuckle. "Funny thing is, we both think the other could stand to learn a thing or two."

"So, let's fight and start learning." Vazko said. "Then we'll see what each style has to offer."

Ilkin raised a brow. "A spar?"

"Yes. But no damaging spells. Hold back from hitting with a cutting edge," Vazko said, loosening his stance. "Purely for demonstration."

They headed to a flat patch of ground where the underbrush had thinned. Ilkin set aside his bow for a staff. Vazko kept his blade in its sheath. The clearing was dappled with sunlight filtering through the canopy, the ground soft with fallen leaves, a far cry from the stone corridors Vazko knew.

Ilkin struck first, his steps light and fluid. He feinted left, then spun right, kicking up dirt and pine needles with his foot as a distraction. Vazko countered with a precise forward pivot—economical, minimal—and tapped Ilkin's knee with his sheathed blade, disrupting the Sunbrave's graceful momentum.

Vazko noticed immediately how unlike Deepguard maneuvering this was. No formal stances. The Sunbrave moved like water—shifting, redirecting, never quite where you expected. It was beautiful in its way, but entirely foreign to the disciplined forms he had honed his movements on. As they circled, he saw Ilkin watching his footwork—the calculated tactics that had kept Vazko alive in the tunnels. Down there, with the limited light and space, one misstep meant injury, even death. Every movement had to be controlled. But out in the open, such rigidity became a liability.

Ilkin's shard-cast decoy shimmered, but Vazko lunged—not at the illusion, but at the shadow the Sunshy's boot cast in the dirt. The Deepshy's shard flared, and the ground beneath Ilkin's foot liquefied. The Sunbrave yelped, sinking ankle-deep into suddenly viscous earth.

Ilkin stumbled, then rolled with it, springing up with a grin. "Dirty tunnel tricks." But his grin betrayed admiration. He retaliated by throwing a pebble into the air. It burst into a sun-bright flare, forcing Vazko to shield his eyes.

Vazko's eyes narrowed, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Now, that's a clear sign of hostility."

Sucking back the light into the shard fixed to his staff's tip, Ilkin drew a burning spiral spinning in midair, threatening to slice into the Deepguard's face. Vazko didn't flinch. He stepped through the blazing illusion, tapping Ilkin's shoulder. "Got you."

Ilkin laughed, panting. "Next time, Deepshy, I'll dazzle you blind with a real Sunbrave flashbang—not this toddler's sparkler."

"You fight well. I see how your style would be effective, on the surface. With the sun at your back and the wind on your side," Vazko tentatively acknowledged, his usual stoicism softened by the barest degree. "But we're used to being rammed against rocks, scalded by steam vents."

Ilkin nodded. "Then maybe we can come up with something new, meet in the middle."

Vazko pivoted, mirroring Ilkin's form, testing the unfamiliar stance. "I see it now. Your way has grace, subtlety. But can it hold a line?"

Ilkin's smile was quick. "Maybe not. But it could engage a battlefield."

"Perhaps one can learn to swing and sway without losing strength," Vazko mused, a note of introspection in his voice.

Ilkin clapped him on the shoulder. "For someone who looks carved from stone, you almost move like a real person."

Having sparred and tasted each other's styles, the tension between them was worn down, laying down a path toward mutual respect.

"I believe we've thoroughly secured the perimeter for the night," Vazko declared, the finality in his voice signaling a shift from combatant to comrade. As they found themselves retracing their steps, he looked back at the weathered structures. "These ruins... Menna sees history. Sela sees strategy. What do you see in them, young Sunbrave?"

Ilkin considered the question longer than Vazko expected. "A new beginning, maybe. Or more accurately, a return. These stones stood this long, before our divisions, if your Middleshy friend's research is to be believed. Perhaps they'll outlast them too."

"But to what purpose does our standing here serve? What more can be done with these ruins?"

Ilkin shrugged. "We can continue to repair and fortify them, until Sela decides we work on something else or move. She's the big brains here."

They stood in silence for a moment, then Vazko whispered. "Maybe don't call her that in front of Menna."

Ilkin snickered and glanced back toward the dock. "Should we check in with our more intellectually-inclined companions?"

"Your lead, Sunbrave," Vazko pointed the way with a flourish.

Menna and Sela were back at the shelter, tending to the fire, Warby curled up basking in its warmth. When his ears picked up the sound of footsteps, he stretched, gave a little sneeze, then walked up to Ilkin for a nuzzle.

"We've swept the edges of the explored ruins. No signs of significant threats," Ilkin reported. "Area seems clear, uncompromised, as usual..."

Sela nodded. "Good. We hold here for the night. The four of us can rotate watches. At dawn, we start working our way south. That's where the others are, where most threats would be coming from, and the direction we need to rebuild towards."

Sela turned to their new companions, her voice firm. "We'll need to extend the perimeter first. Ilkin, you and Warby scout the next ridge to the south, set up a vantage point. Vazko, your Deepguard training might be useful in setting up defensive positions—see if you can reinforce the walls with what's available, restructure and realign them for our purposes. Menna, check the ruins for any ancient mechanisms or defenses we can reactivate, keep an eye out for anything with a glimmer of arclith."

"In the Deep, we use choke points and kill zones," Vazko spoke up. "Here, we can use the terrain and stone corridors to funnel attackers into narrow paths where we can concentrate our forces."

Menna nodded eagerly. "I can rejigger my shard charge reader into a makeshift arclith dowser. If this was a hub like we discussed, there might be caches."

Ilkin merely saluted in agreement, sinking down into Warby's fur as they lounged by the fire.

"We can't leave it to these old walls or our individual skills alone to protect us, but how we use them all—together. We can bridge the Deep and the Sun, the ancient and the current," Sela stated, watching for Menna's reaction.

Menna looked over their tight group. "Three types of shards," she whispered. "Three kinds of Shy."

Sela arched a brow. "Please don't try to turn us into fodder for more poetry."

Vazko, surprising them all, said, "Maybe we're overdue for it."

"We're overdue for some shuteye," Ilkin groaned. "We've got lots to do in the morning."

The others couldn't argue with that.

A meaningful silence followed Sela's directives. They were four Shy from three different worlds, trying to resurrect a battered outpost against uncertain threats. Vazko was conflicted, this wasn't how Deepguard operated, with so many variables left to chance. Menna excitedly fiddled with her tools and notes, already calculating potential arclith configurations. Even Ilkin's usual easy demeanor had sharpened into a keener focus, once he woke up from snoozing.

The river had brought them here, now it would carry them all forward. What came next, they'd have to navigate for themselves. Tomorrow would bring its own currents. But for tonight, they gazed at the stars, lying on new beds placed on ancient stones, contemplating a future that might resemble a forgotten past.

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