By the time that Aiden and I locate the tiny dirt road that leads to the collapsed farmhouse, the sun is sinking down below the horizon.

The road is blocked off by a metal fence with a gate, chained up and coated with rust. We could try to force it open by hand, but the corroded parts look jagged, and I don’t feel like going to get an emergency tetanus shot. And to kick it over seems disrespectful, even if the place is long-abandoned.

So we leave my car by a cluster of Sitka spruces, hop the fence, and go up the narrow, winding road on foot.

Darkness is falling fast, the last of the sunlight fading out amidst the treetops.

“At least we remembered the flashlights,” Aiden says, traveling the beam over the shadowy landscape. He looks sidelong at me, observant blue eyes lingering on my face. “You're calmer than I expected you to be.”

I was just thinking the same thing. I didn't expect myself to be this calm, either.

But there’s something about Aiden’s warmth.

Both the warmth of his presence, and his Heliomancer heat. They come together to form a cozy, protective cocoon, an invisible shield around me. I can see the wind blustering through the trees, see the evening frost forming around us, but it doesn’t touch me.

And Aiden’s hand in mine never fails to steady me out when I’m anxious or afraid.

“Just - feel safe with you,” I tell him.

Aiden stares at me, then breaks into a warm smile. It stays on his face even after he turns away.

I blink in surprise as goldspun light slowly gathers around us while we walk. I watch as the glow forms into a cluster of fireflies, shining with Heliomancer light.

He didn't even have to use his hands to make them, this time.

They spread out, scattering up into the trees. There’s not exactly a collective glow, but the forest around us is less imposing with the little lights drifting through the branches. I take a deep breath, relax a tiny bit.

And then we come around a curve in the road, and lay eyes on the farmhouse.

There must have been open fields around this place before, but the forest has reclaimed the territory, pressing in close around the crumbling ruins.

We’re lucky that the house was built of stone, or there’d be nothing left. As it is, there’s a big pile of rubble, partially collapsed walls with smashed windows, and rusted-out metal skeletons of furniture. All of it is glazed with moss and lichen, which in turn glitters with frost.

Set a few yards back from the southern wall of the farmhouse is what looks like a tool shed, also built of stone. Too far away to have been destroyed by the original collapse, it remains upright. But the same sense of decay and disuse clings to it. The door is closed and matted with cobwebs. There are no windows.

The last of the sunlight dwindles away and disappears as we stand there taking in the sight.

“Okay,” I say. “Okay, okay, okay-”

“Hey.” Aiden wraps an arm around my shoulders, presses a kiss against my temple. “Stay calm.”

“You know, I’m trying, but certain circumstances are making that very difficult for me.”

“You were doing so good, one second ago!”

“That was before I realized that we were walking into something straight out of Resident Evil 7, Aiden! Actually - no, you know what? The house in Resident Evil 7 was in better condition than this one, somehow.”

Aiden looks down at me, his eyebrows furrowing. “Is that a movie?”

“Wh-?” I blink up at him, then let out a startled laugh. “I mean, I was talking about the video game, but there are movies, too - you're seriously telling me that you’ve never heard of Resident Evil? Are you joking?”

“Well - I haven’t exactly had a lot of time for that stuff, man! I’ve been traveling nonstop!”

I try to answer, but I end up laughing again when I see the indignant look on Aiden's face. He tries to keep frowning, but my laughter makes him laugh, too.

The sound of his laughter mingling with mine does something to ease my fears, to release the tension building in my body. I give Aiden’s hand a squeeze, and he understands the message.

We move closer to the ruins, our flashlight beams traveling over what remains of the farmhouse. I reluctantly let go of Aiden’s hand, and we split up, to cover more territory. At least with this many walls fallen, we won’t lose sight of each other. And with no roof on the house, we can count on the help of the moonlight.

I wander into the outlines of what I’d guess was probably the living room, letting my flashlight beam rove over the fallen masonry.

“Think I found the kitchen,” Aiden calls, but I’m focused on the ground before me. I can see something tiny poking up from beneath the remains of a shattered wall, catching the glow of my flashlight.

I try to push some rocks away, but nothing budges.

“Hey, Bicep Boy! Can you come here and move this? There’s something beneath it.”

He comes over and puts his foot to the same piece of stone, gives it a push with the base of his Timbs. The broken rock tumbles out of the way, and we both aim our flashlights down.

I drop to a crouch. Aiden drops down next to me, clicks off his flashlight, and sets it aside. I aim mine while he unearths our discovery.

“Is that - an Army Man?” I ask, as the buried treasure comes loose in Aiden’s hands.

It is. A plastic toy soldier, marred by exposure and age, but still distinct. I spot something else in the dirt, pull it up while Aiden is looking at the Army Man.

My find is a Hot Wheels car, an old school one. It could definitely be from the 1960s. This is probably what was glinting beneath my flashlight.

Aiden and I exchange a look.

“You think a kid was living here?” I ask.

“At least temporarily,” Aiden murmurs. “If the house was a rental.”

Neither of us knows what to do with this information, so Aiden pockets the toys, and we keep moving.

Looking through the rubble, we uncover more pieces of the farmhouse that have survived the years: old cooking pans, fractured pieces of window shutters, a rusted cookie tin, a toy airplane, the ruins of an old stove.

I take pictures as we go, so I can show Kasey and Will when we get back to Ketterbridge. So far, though, we don’t have too much to tell them. The only thing we’ve learned is that a child lived here at the time of the collapse.

There comes a point where Aiden and I would have to start moving really big sections of the fallen walls to find anything else. We’ve searched the house as thoroughly as we can.

I'm hoping this means we're good to leave, so when we step out of the ruins and back into the night air, I start heading towards the road. But Aiden’s eyes have caught on something at the far end of the house, near the tool shed.

“What’s that thing?” he asks, nudging my arm.

I follow his gaze to what looks like a circle of stacked, mossy stones on the ground, rising up about a foot taller than the grass.

“Oh, I don’t know. Anyways - let’s go back to the car, right? I’m starving, aren’t you?”

“Come on, dummy,” Aiden chuckles, threading his fingers through mine. “We can eat after we check that thing out.”

I groan loudly, but let Aiden lead me around the fallen house. We stop together at the circle of stones.

It turns out that they’re encircling a pitch-black hole in the ground.

“It’s a well,” I realize. "Dried up, it looks like."

“God, that must go deep.” Aiden leans over it. “Check that out, my flashlight isn’t hitting the bottom.”

Keeping hold of Aiden, I lean forward and see that he’s right. The beam of the flashlight is swallowed up by the darkness, disappearing into the depths.

Aiden peers into the well with curious blue eyes. “I wonder how far down it goes.”

“There’s an easy way to find out, Heliomancer,” I remind him.

Aiden follows my thinking, and sets down his flashlight again. He beckons to his fireflies, which are drifting peacefully in the boughs of the surrounding trees.

A small handful responds to his call, floating down until they’re gathered above his hand. He directs them over the edge of the old well, and they begin their slow descent.

“Oh, shit,” Aiden murmurs, when the fireflies bump gently against the bottom.

The light is catching on something, all the way in the depths of the well. Something shiny, half-buried in dead leaves.

I narrow my eyes, but I can’t make out any details.

“What is that?” I ask.

Aiden thinks for a minute, then looks over at me. I can tell that he has an idea, so I wait for him to share it.

A spark of energy flares in our intertwined hands. The connection shimmers open, sending a tingly rush of heat up my arm. Aiden’s eyes glow with white-blue light as he turns back to the well.

I sense him trying to do something careful and precise, using only a small portion of his magic. I let him pour what he doesn’t need into me, feel it vibrate in my toes and fingers, up the back of my neck, around my mouth.

I love this feeling, sharing in Aiden’s energy. I could let myself get lost in it completely, but I make myself open my eyes, watch what’s going on.

Aiden's gaze is fixed on the mystery item at the bottom of the well. It takes me a second to get there, but I understand what he’s doing. Manipulating temperature currents, trying to bring the thing to the top.

Very slowly, it lifts into the air, rising on the invisible currents of Aiden’s power. It begins to float up towards us.

I press my fingers over my mouth, stunned.

Oh, my god, I whisper. You’re so amazing, Aiden. I remember when you couldn’t do any magic without causing an explosion, or without hours and hours of practice, and now look at you, you’re so incredib-

I break off, feeling the rush of pleasure that bursts through him at my words.

Then I feel his focus slip. The thing in the well goes tumbling back to the bottom.

Oh - I’m sorry! I press my hand over my mouth again, even though I was speaking with my inside voice. I didn’t mean to break your concentration!

Then stop saying such nice things, dude! Aiden sputters, a scarlet blush spreading across his cheeks. I can’t - when you’re -

I’m sorry! I’ll stop talking.

But I can feel it.

Feel what?

What you’re - feeling about me. The blush in Aiden’s cheeks darkens. It’s distracting, because it feels - really…

I know what it feels like. I’m the one feeling it. It’s pride and admiration and wonder, all wrapped together in a loving bundle in my heart. On top of that, a powerful urge to snuggle up against Aiden, to press my face into his neck.

I almost forgot that he’s feeling all that, too. I quickly break my gaze away from his, my cheeks on fire.

Aiden huffs out a soft, silent laugh, one that only I can hear. The energy flowing through our connection grows even warmer and brighter. My toes curl in my Converse.

Biting back a smile, Aiden turns his attention back to the well.

I close my eyes and try to keep my mind blank, so Aiden can focus.

The next thing I know, he’s releasing my hand to drag the thing up over the side of the well. He gives it a shake to clear off the wet leaves and twigs, then sets it on the ground between us.

We stare down at it, baffled.

“Is this a bag made of rubber?” Aiden asks, poking at the dark, slippery material.

“To - waterproof whatever’s inside?” I suggest.

“Then... this wasn't dropped in the well by accident,” Aiden says. “It was hidden there.”

I pull out my car keys, use them to make a slit in the aged rubber bag. Aiden tears it open, and we extract - another bag. But this one is more like a backpack, of soft, dark fabric. The rubber bag has kept portions of it dry, but left others wet.

Aiden unzips the backpack, and the drifting fireflies come to cluster over us, casting a warm pool of light to see by.

We extract a bizarre collection of items.

There’s some cash, in a sealed plastic bag. A first aid kit, and a waterlogged satellite phone. A tin of what looks like powdered hair dye. Two passports, both completely destroyed from water damage, not a legible word or picture on either one.

And…

“Holy shit,” Aiden whispers.

A box of handgun ammo. Empty.

Aiden and I stare at each other, dazed.

“Spy shit,” Aiden finally says, and I let out a stunned laugh.

“Yeah, looks fucking like it! Is this a go-bag? Local currency, spare passports, hair dye… Stuff you might need to get away in an emergency, right?”

“I think so, yeah.” Aiden sits back on his heels, gazing down at everything laid out on the grass. “One of the spies involved in this thing must have stashed it here, in case the operation was blown.”

“Jesus!” I run a hand through my hair, staggered. “I can’t believe we found - oh my god, Aiden, when we show Will and Kasey this stuff - when we show Floyd this stuff...”

I fade off, confused. Aiden is staring at something over my shoulder.

I glance behind myself and see that he’s looking at the tool shed. We can see it better now, in the light of the gathered fireflies.

I turn back to Aiden, questioning him with my eyes.

“The lock,” he breathes.

I take a look at the lock on the aged door of the tool shed. It’s an old, silver lock, ornate by modern standards.

It dawns on me all at once. I turn and stare at Aiden, wide-eyed.

“Do you have it?” I ask softly, and he nods.

He takes the silver key from his pocket. The one token that Calla let us keep from our evidence-stealing excursion.

Wordlessly, Aiden gets to his feet and crosses to the tool shed. I follow after him, stand by his side as he slides the key into the lock.

It fits in easily, and he turns it, to a quiet metallic click.

My breath catches. Aiden and I twist to look at each other, then whip around again when the door swings open, pushed by the wind. A rectangle of yawning darkness faces us.

Aiden beckons to his fireflies, and they float in through the doorway ahead of us.

I take a deep breath before I follow Aiden inside.

The shed is musty and silent, a cramped room that hasn’t been opened in decades. Parts of the wooden roof have fallen in, but the walls are intact.

Whoever maintained this shed kept it very neatly organized, when it was in use. There’s a specific spot on the wall for each tool. The tools are all still in place on their pegs, if rusted out and useless.

Except… there’s one peg, near the middle, with nothing on it. A big empty space where something should be. And there are no tools on the floor.

“Something’s missing,” Aiden observes.

I silently pull my phone out of my pocket, turn on the flash, and snap a picture of the wall. I text it to Raj, and a minute or so passes before he responds.

“What did he say?” asks Aiden.

“He said…” I open the text, read it out loud. “Nice collection, bro, if you’re trying to gather up all the most busted-ass tools in the world. Just missing a saw.”

I stare down at my phone, then look at Aiden, wide-eyed.

As one, we turn back to the tool wall. The size of that space does look about right for a handsaw.

“The saw is missing,” Aiden says. “Someone took it.”

“A saw would be helpful,” I answer slowly, “If you were trying to weaken a support beam that was holding up a house.”

Aiden looks down at the key in his hand. “John Botswick had the key to the tool shed.”

“And the address of the farmhouse written down in his notebook,” I finish.

There’s a silence, and then Aiden says what we’re both thinking.

“John Botswick collapsed this house.”