Landon’s fingers tightened around the handle of his knife. The figure stepped closer, just enough for the dim light to outline their silhouette. They weren’t alone.
Landon’s breath was slow, controlled. Years of survival training told him to assess before acting.
"You shouldn’t be here, Mr. Edenbaum."
The voice was male. Calm. Measured. Too controlled. Landon took a step back, careful to keep his footing on the uneven ground.
"Funny. I was about to say the same thing to you."
The figure didn’t react.
Neither did the others, emerging from the trees, their dark tactical gear blending with the shadows.
Landon counted three. Maybe four. Not good.
The air around them felt heavier, as if the forest itself had become aware of what was happening.
Obsidian Veil.
They weren’t just treasure hunters or historians. They were curators of power. And now, they were here.
For him.
For the map.
"You have something that belongs to us," the man continued, taking another slow step forward.
Landon let out a humorless laugh. "Do I? Because all I’ve got is an old map and a bad knee. You want that?"
The man tilted his head slightly. "Your knee? No. But the map... yes. That was never meant to be found."
Something chilled Landon deeper than the words themselves—the way the man said it. Like a fact. Like history.
Landon clenched his jaw. They knew. They knew what the map led to. And now they knew he had it.
"Hand it over, and we can avoid any... unnecessary complications."
Landon’s grip on the knife tightened.
This wasn’t a warning. It was a threat.
Landon never gave people the chance to make a second threat.
He moved. Fast.
A flash of steel, a twist of his body, and he was already ducking between trees, knife slashing outward in a calculated arc.
A grunt of pain—one of them had been too slow. Landon didn’t wait to see who it was. He bolted.
The forest exploded into chaos. Shouts. Movement. The crunch of boots.
Landon’s feet pounded the dirt, heart hammering. He didn’t have a plan. He barely had a direction.
Just run. Run. Run.
A shape moved in his peripheral vision. Another figure. He changed direction, lungs burning.
They’re trying to cut me off. The thought barely registered before—
A gunshot.
Bark exploded beside him as a bullet ripped through the tree. He ducked low, using the cover of the dense undergrowth.
Then—another gunshot.
They weren’t holding back anymore. Landon slid down a steep embankment, barely managing to keep himself from tumbling headfirst. Mud and rocks kicked up around him, stinging his face.
"Fan out!" a voice shouted behind him.
"Don’t lose him!"
Landon’s breathing was ragged. He wove through the trees, constantly changing direction, trying to keep them guessing. But they were trained. Experienced.
This wasn’t some ragtag operation. This was a coordinated hunt.
A flashlight swept through the trees ahead of him. He barely had time to throw himself behind a fallen log before it passed over his hiding spot.
They were everywhere.
"He’s moving toward the cliffs!" a voice called.
Landon swore under his breath.
If they pushed him too far, he’d have nowhere left to run. He crawled forward, every movement painstakingly slow. If he made a single sound—
"I know you’re still breathing, Mr. Edenbaum."
The voice was closer than it should have been.
Landon went still. Completely, utterly still.
A silhouette moved between the trees, stepping into the clearing just ahead.
The man from before. The one in charge. His gun was already drawn.
Landon’s mind raced. His options were gone. He was cornered. And they knew it.
Landon’s muscles coiled. His only chance was a move so stupid they wouldn’t expect it. He broke cover. Sprinted full speed toward the cliff.
A gunshot rang out—he felt it graze past his shoulder.
Didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
"No! Stop him!"
Landon hit the edge— And jumped.
For a split second, the world went silent.
Then—
Cold. Violent. Unforgiving. The river swallowed him whole.
Miles away, under a dim porch light, a laptop screen flickered.
Five names lit up in a chat window. Claire. Jay. Mia. Rowan. Elliot.
The message read:
"Guys. You need to see this."
Jay had stumbled across something unexpected. A recorded transmission.
Landon’s voice filled the quiet.
"This is Landon Edenbaum, recording from somewhere west of nowhere. If you’re hearing this, then I guess things didn’t go as planned."
Silence hung in the air as the four former campers listened. By the time the message ended, one thing was clear. Landon needed them. And they were going to find him.