Frozen Flame of Dawn

"I swear this place is like a maze," Ezzie muttered behind her. "You'd think the former mayor was hiding treasure up here."

When they reached the top floor, the hallway changed. The walls became narrower, tighter. The paint here was newer, smoother, the corners less worn. It felt... intentional.

Then they saw it, a steel door and not the kind you slap on a vault or a bunker. This was sleek—clean lines, a digital panel with an embedded biometric scanner, and a smooth steel surface polished to a soft shine. It didn't look like it belonged in a former mayor's house.

Ezzie stopped dead in her tracks. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay. Why is there a high-tech security vault in the attic of a house in the middle of nowhere?"

Elias stepped forward, chuckling softly. "You're asking the same thing we did when we found it." He glanced at Aiden and Tommy, both now equally intrigued.

"Installing something like this would've cost millions before the surge," Ezzie continued, running her fingers along the edge without touching the scanner. "No way a town mayor had that kind of cash lying around."

"That's exactly what made us suspicious," Elias said, his voice lower now. "We wondered the same thing. But this door? It's just the start. Wait until you see what's inside."

Tommy raised a brow. "You're really building this up."

Elias didn't even flinch at the sarcasm. He simply grinned, stepped forward, and entered a numeric code on the embedded keypad. The small panel lit up a soft green, followed by a subtle click as he pressed his hand against the biometric scanner.

The panel lit up, whirred softly, and then the steel door unlocked with a quiet hiss. There was no dramatic creak, no grinding of bolts—just clean, engineered precision.

The moment it opened, a cool breeze brushed past them, scented faintly with lavender and something older—wood polish, maybe. As they stepped inside, their footsteps slowed to a halt.

But what came next was less subtle as the moment it opened, a cold breeze swept out of the room like it had been sealed for ages. It wasn't harsh, but it wasn't just air-conditioned chill either—it carried a soft scent of lavender, sharp and clean, paired with something older, earthier. Wood polish? Dust from forgotten shelves?

Aiden, Tommy, and Ezzie stepped inside, but soon their footsteps slowed to a halt.

"...Woah," Ezzie murmured.

The inside wasn't a room. It was a marble-crafted revelation with the interior like... a marvel.

It unfolded like a luxury condo carved into the mansion's bones—an vast open space, perfectly balanced in design and function, no walls dividing anything yet every corner owning its identity.

On one end sat a spacious bedroom—silk-draped bedding, antique lighting fixtures glowing with a soft golden warmth, and a rug so thick it almost silenced the world underfoot.

Near the center, a modern kitchen shimmered under recessed lights, all black matte appliances and spotless granite counters. On the opposite side, a cozy living area with a minimalist fireplace flickering lazily—like it had nowhere to be and all the time in the world.

The study zone hugged the far wall, its centerpiece a broad, heavy table surrounded by tall-backed chairs and flanked by bookcases that rose nearly to the ceiling.

Every piece of furniture was elegant, hand-carved or custom-designed. The walls were adorned with antiques—ceremonial daggers, ancient scroll cases, hand-drawn maps that looked centuries old.

Tommy ran his fingers along a polished side table near the living area, letting out a short laugh. "Most of this stuff's vintage… and expensive. I'm talking big-league collector stuff."

Ezzie's wide eyes swept over the space. "Okay, yeah… this is not 'mayor of a quiet town' energy. This is like... 'exiled noble meets covert agency base' level insane."

"You're not wrong," Elias replied, still smiling. "Some of the antiques in here? They predate the Federation. A few even go back to the old monarchical dynasties—before democratic unions existed."

Tommy let out a short laugh. "So we're basically chilling in a time capsule built by a guy with way too much money and way too many secrets."

Aiden didn't answer but headed far from the center where others were. Instead, he walked slowly toward the far wall, where shelves towered with books.

He stopped near the long table that served as both a meeting area and study center. Surrounding it were shelves full of labeled tomes, scrolls tucked neatly between them, and rows of meticulously arranged parchment.

Some books were well-kept, others faded and timeworn, the leather bindings cracked with age.

Aiden's fingertips drifted across the spine of one, then another. He murmured to himself, half-thought and half-breath. "The Federation's been around for what… nearly four hundred years?"

He pulled a volume from the shelf—its cover heavy, its pages yellowed and delicate.

"These are at least that old," he said, turning it carefully. "Hard-bound. Real parchment. Look at this…" He flipped a few pages, showing the elegant calligraphy that gave off a faint, papery scent of age and faded ink. "Written in Old Ethrin. Haven't seen that dialect used outside of historic texts in years."

Near him, ancient scrolls rested in carved compartments. Some were sealed with wax, the stamps now cracked and discolored. Others looked more like personal journals or forbidden ledgers than public records.

Tommy peeked over Aiden's shoulder. "Okay, this is straight up a secret museum. We could charge a fortune in tour tickets."

Aiden didn't smile. His eyes traced every scroll and relic with a kind of quiet reverence.

"This isn't just wealth," he said softly. "It's knowledge. And whoever built this… didn't want it to be found by just anyone."

A beat passed, the silence wrapped in the flicker of firelight.

Moments later, the sound of footsteps drew their attention.

Amira walked straight toward the broad study table in the center of the room, her steps calm and deliberate. She didn't need to raise her voice or snap her fingers—her presence alone was enough. Everyone scattered around the room—examining old maps, peeking at scrolls, brushing fingers over ancient swords—felt the subtle shift in the air.

One by one, they made their way to the table and took their seats. The table was solid wood, reinforced with metal framing, and large enough to seat at least ten. It wasn't as grand as the command center they used at the sanctuary—but it felt more focused, more intimate.

Without saying a word, Amira reached toward the rack mounted on the wall beside the bookcases. She pulled out several rolled-up maps and a small stack of aged documents. Elias was already on his feet, stepping forward as if reading her mind. He took the materials from her hands and began spreading them out across the polished table surface with practiced ease.

When everything was laid out—maps pinned, corners held down, and folders ready—both Amira and Elias settled into their chairs.

She took a moment to glance around the room. The flicker of the low-hung fireplace reflected in her eyes, softening the seriousness of her tone when she spoke.

"I know," she began, "a lot of you have questions. About this room… about the former mayor… about how he managed to collect priceless antiques and documents older than our federation's foundation."

There was a ripple of unspoken curiosity in the room—Aiden leaning slightly in his chair, Tommy's eyes flicking to the scrolls, even Ezzie looking mildly guilty for having just snapped a photo of the wall full of blades a few minutes ago.

"I'll be honest—I have that same curiosity," Amira admitted, her voice steady. "But right now, we have priorities. Once we finish the second phase of recon and stabilize the perimeter, then we can dig into this mystery. Because it's not going anywhere."

Her words hung in the air like a calming spell. Everyone settled down, heads nodding slowly. As they know curiosity could wait but survival couldn't.

Amira turned back toward the maps. Her fingers brushed across one with bold red markings outlining the stronghold's immediate surroundings.

"We're moving into phase two of reconnaissance," she continued. "Our goal is to clear and secure the 500-kilometer area around our already secured 200 km central region—systematically, thoroughly. We'll need to cover all directions… eventually. But we're stretched thin. Our numbers are limited, both in gear and in people and we can't afford carelessness."

As the flickering firelight cast a soft glow over the polished surface of the table as Amira's eyes swept across the gathered group. Her gaze finally settled on Aiden and Bella. Her tone was calm, but every word carried weight.

"You both are leading our external and internal command units," she said, folding her hands over the table. "I want to hear your solutions first."