The wind whipped Elias’s hair across his face, a constant, insistent reminder of the restless sea. He knelt again before the weathered rock formation overlooking Port Blossom, tracing the lines of the serpent carving with a calloused finger. The salt spray stung his eyes, but he didn't flinch. It wasn’t discomfort he felt, but an almost feverish concentration – a desperate need to connect the fragmented pieces of this impossible puzzle. Silas Blackwood had been meticulously, unnervingly polite, offering cryptic suggestions and veiled warnings, yet Elias was convinced the man was deliberately obscuring something vital. The initial excitement of discovery had curdled into a cold, gnawing suspicion.
“It’s just… geometric,” Elias muttered, his voice barely audible above the crashing waves. “A stylized representation, certainly, but without any discernible function beyond decoration. Grandmother wouldn't have intentionally left something so deliberately misleading.” He rotated the carving slowly, examining it from every angle, recalling the faint shimmer he’d noticed earlier – a reflection of light that hadn’t been caused by the sun.
Finch arrived, his usual anxious energy amplified tenfold. “Elias, you need to be careful,” he urged, clutching at Elias’s arm. “Silas is watching you. He knows you're onto something.” Finch’s brow was furrowed with genuine concern, a stark contrast to the unsettling calmness of Blackwood.
“I appreciate your worry, Finch,” Elias said, pulling his arm free gently.
