Chapter 243: Chased by witches

“Maybe. But she has stronger connections to the Council, and in the end, that might matter more than competence.”

Kate finally stood, smoothing down her suit jacket.

“Come on. I’ll drop you off at home on my way.”

The drive back to Silverwood Heights took thirty minutes in midday traffic. Kate pulled into their driveway and turned off the engine, but neither of them moved to get out immediately.

“Two months,” Kate said quietly.

“Maybe less. Probably less.”

“But maybe not.”

Kate turned to look at her.

“Martha, I support your work. I always have. But sometimes I wish you wanted to stay home as much as you want to go dig in the dirt on the edge of nowhere.”

Martha felt a pang of guilt.

It was an old tension in their marriage, never quite resolved. Kate’s work was demanding, but it kept her close to home, close to the life they’d built together. Martha’s work took her away for months at a time, leaving Kate alone in their beautiful house with nothing but phone calls and video chats to bridge the distance.

“I do want to stay,” Martha said.

“Part of me wants to stay. But another part…”

She struggled for words.

“There’s something out there, Kate. Something waiting to be found. I can feel it, the way you feel origin energy in your channels. And I can’t ignore it. I physically cannot ignore it.”

Kate nodded slowly.

She understood obsession, after all.

She had her own, directed toward climbing the corporate hierarchy, toward building something significant, and toward proving herself in a world where competition was fierce and failure meant obscurity.

“Then go,” she said.

“Find whatever it is you’re looking for. Just come back to me when you’re done.”

“Always,” Martha promised.

They kissed again, longer this time, a goodbye that would have to last for weeks.

Then Martha got out of the car and watched as Kate backed out of the driveway and headed toward the city, toward her meetings and her rival and her own form of discovery.

Martha stood in front of their house, this monument to success and stability, and felt the familiar pull.

Home was here, yes.

Love was here.

But truth was out there, buried in the red earth of Kreeshan Valley, waiting for someone brave enough or foolish enough to dig it up.

She went inside, climbed the stairs to her study on the second floor, and unrolled her maps again. There was work to do, preparations to make.

In two days she would leave this comfortable life behind and return to what she loved most: the search, the dig, and the moment of revelation when the past gave up its secrets.

The house hummed around her with invisible energy.

But Martha’s mind was already elsewhere, already descending into darkness, already reaching for answers that no one else seemed to care about.

The sun tracked across the sky.

The sprinklers activated and deactivated.

The city carried on with its business.

And Martha Buchanan was prepared to chase a truth that might change everything.

*

Somewhere in the streets of the city, miles away from the Buchanan residence.

The alley reeked of rotting garbage and stale water.

Dane pressed his back against the brick wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his weathered face despite the cool evening air.

At forty-three, he was too old for this. His knees ached, his lungs burned, and every instinct screamed at him to find somewhere to hide and stay there.

“They’re coming,” Sofia whispered beside him.

She was twenty-four, lean and quick, with short dark hair tucked under a gray cap. Her eyes were sharp, constantly scanning their surroundings.

Unlike Dane, she wasn’t winded.

She’d been running from the Council’s enforcers since she was sixteen.

She knew how to pace herself.

Dane nodded, not trusting himself to speak without gasping. He could hear them now. Footsteps. Multiple sets. Moving with purpose through the narrow streets of the old quarter.

Kharsen’s old quarter was a maze of alleys and forgotten passages, built over centuries before the city planners had imposed their orderly grid on the modern districts. The buildings here leaned against each other like drunks, their facades crumbling, their windows dark. It was perfect territory for people who didn’t want to be found.

Usually.

“Three of them,” Sofia said, her voice barely audible.

“Maybe four. Witch squad.”

Dane’s blood went cold.

Regular enforcers they could handle. City guards were lazy, corrupt, and easy to evade. But witch squads were different. Witch squads didn’t stop. They didn’t give up. And they had resources that made hiding almost impossible.

“How did they find us?” Dane whispered.

“Does it matter?”

Sofia’s hand moved to the knife at her belt.

“We need to move. Now.”

They slipped out of the alley and onto a side street. The old quarter was mostly deserted at this hour. A few lights burned in windows overhead, but the people here had learned long ago not to get involved in other people’s problems. Curtains twitched as they passed. Doors locked.

Dane and Sofia moved quickly but not too quickly. Running drew attention. They walked with purpose, two people heading home after a long day, nothing suspicious, nothing worth noticing.

Behind them, the footsteps grew louder.

“There,” Sofia hissed, pointing.

A narrow passage between two buildings, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through. Dane followed her into it, his shoulders scraping against the walls. The passage was dark, lit only by the faint glow from windows above. It smelled like mold and piss.

They emerged onto another street, this one slightly wider.

A few vendors were closing up their carts for the night.

An old woman swept the steps of a tenement building.

Everything looked normal, peaceful.

Dane risked a glance back.

Three figures in dark robes turned onto the street behind them. Their hoods were up, faces hidden in shadow. But Dane could see the pendants at their throats, glowing faintly with inner light. Origin crystals. Active ones.

“Shit,” he breathed.

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