“Oh my.” A woman’s voice catches our attention.

Seated atop a brilliant white stallion, she lingers near the water’s edge. Flowing white robes adorn her body, dangling low and accentuated by silver rings and a circlet. Her skin is smooth like polished opal. Her black hair is sleek like obsidian. Elegant…but cautious. Her horse backs away while her eyes widen with fear.

“Randolf! Randolf!” Her high-pitched voice slices the calm air.

“Here we go,” Clara rolls her eyes.

Hooves pound. A dark black steed rises over a hill crest, racing to the river. A man in black bounces atop the saddle. Tall, slender, swathed in a tailored suit…everyone in town knows him.

Lord Varian XV, scion of the Varian fortune.

“What is it, Livia? I was instructing the servants. You know I’m busy with Seedtide planting.” He gallops to a halt, a frown nestled behind his black goatee.

“We…we have guests.” Lady Varian points a quivering finger at us.

The lord’s eyes widen. His scowl deepens.

“Who goes there?!” He gallops forward. “State your names!”

“M-m’lord, it’s me, Willem!”

“And Clara.”

“An’ Enrik!”

“Ivan. Ivan Duskflame.

“Yeeeee!”

“Roooorg!”

“Trespassers on my property?! Empty your pockets! Do it now! Thieves stealing my crops. Stealing seeds!”

“Please, Randolf. Remember your heart.” Lady Varian trots in close, placing a slender hand on his shoulder.

He swats her away, a heavy purple ring glittering on his finger.

“I ought to have you arrested. What would Mayor Gaius think of this?” Varian takes a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. “No…I need to remain calm. It’s just some villagers exploring…except for you.”

He hesitates, looking down his nose at Ivan. They lock eyes while time seems to freeze. A faint light flickers in Ivan’s necklace while a crafty grin spreads across his face.

“I’m but a simple tourist, m’lord.” Ivan gives a deep bow. “Forgive my intrusion. I didn’t recognize the land.”

“Yes, yes…I’ve heard of you.” Varian strokes his chin. “The Galantan nag.”

Ivan ignores the insult.

“We were searching for a monument—a rock formation in the shape of a bear. I hear it’s quite the sight.”

“It’s here, but I’d never let a northerner wander my property unsupervised. Get out. All of you. Out!”

“Dear, this is an opportunity.” Lady Varian speaks in a gentle voice. “Allow me to give them a tour. Good deeds create a good reputation, remember? Your father is gone now. You’re responsible for the Varian name.”

“Hmpf.” He goes quiet, watching while Crag bends low, taking a delicious bite of dirt. “What foul monstrosities.”

He turns, galloping away without another word.

“Please forgive him.” Lady Varian gives a weak smile. “He’s under a lot of pressure.”

“But of course, m’lady.” Ivan nods.

“Livia. Call me Livia.”

“As you wish.” He reaches out, allowing Ivy to land on his arm. The creature blinks up at the maiden.

“My, what fascinating pets you keep! I had a pet sand slime when I was a young girl…a rare variety from down south. Her name was…”

“Sandy?” Ivan cuts in.

“How did you know?!”

“Just a hunch.”

Ivan launches into an explanation of his travels while Livia guides us over rolling green hills. Clara breathes a sigh of relief, eager to be rid of the grumpy lord. I share the sentiment. He’s got a bad reputation around town—keeps servants locked on his estate and never lets them leave. He’s descended from a proud and powerful family with close ties to regional nobles. He’s a bad enemy to have.

“I see. So, he can sense minerals in the earth?” Livia flashes a curious glance at Crag while we walk.

She’s a kind woman. Sometimes it’s hard to believe she ended up with someone like the lord. It’s for the best though. She tempers his worst impulses.

“Indeed. And call it a hunch, but I suspect there’s something special about the bear’s rock. I want ol’ Crag to work his magic.” Ivan hesitates. “With your permission, of course.”

He explains the tapestry and our quest. Livia listens with quiet curiosity.

“His Lordship won’t be happy about an artifact leaving the property.” She finally speaks. “But if proper credit were given…he’s always in search of glory. I’m sure I could explain the situation.”

“Now that’s more like it!” Enrik cuts in. “Oh boy, our party’s growin’ bigger! Can ya see it?!”

He throws his arms wide.

He’s right. With Livia and her steed, this feels like a proper adventuring company, not a collection of ragtag villagers.

“Up there!” Livia points a bejeweled finger.

Sitting atop a grassy ridge, a bizarre, misshapen gray stone stares down at us. From this distance, the shape is striking. Like a bear eating stolen honey, it sits on its rear, holding a jar in its lap. One paw dips inside while the other is raised high, almost waving as we approach.

“Well, that’s something else.” I cock my head, struggling to comprehend the sight.

“They say it was part of the first garden.” Livia’s voice grows low and quiet. “The goddess created the bears. Thick fur, strong arms, round ears, and endless courage…they were her finest creations. Such majesty deserved commemoration…and so, she fashioned Bear’s Rock to stand as a monument to divine artistry.”

“Seriously?” I raise an eyebrow.

“It’s a silly story, isn’t it?” Livia giggles. “I suppose we’ll never know the truth.”

We arrive at the ridge, stopping in the stone’s enormous shadow. Our team simply stands, at a loss for where to begin. Even Crag is stumped—no scent here.

“Hmm…” Ivan squints, pulling the goggles down from his forehead.

Pressing a button on the side, gears whirl and energy crystals glow. His eyes magnify while he extracts a tiny paintbrush with long bristles. His boisterous warrior aura is gone, replaced with something far more studious.

“If you’ll excuse me, m’lady.” He nods to Livia.

With the care of a sculptor chiseling marble, he leans near the stone, using the brush to wipe away dirt and debris. Clara and I exchange confused glances before circling the rock, looking for anything abnormal.

Enrik climbs, scampering up onto the creature’s head.

“Careful, boy! Healing magic has its limits,” Clara shouts. “You think you’re invincible?”

“Yes! Yes!” Ivan shouts.

“Don’t encourage him.” Clara scowls.

“No, not that. Come look! Come close!”

Her eyes widen while she moves in. Enrik scurries down while I peer over Clara’s shoulder.

“Do you see it?” Ivan dusts along a crack between the bear’s shoulder and its raised arm. “Right there—a groove. That’s not natural.”

“You betcha!” Enrik snatches the bear’s paw. “A lever! A machine!”

He pushes while Ivan nods, but the arm doesn’t budge. Enrik’s forearms flex while sweat beads on his forehead. No matter how much pressure he adds, it doesn't move.

“We aren’t orcs.” Clara lets out a sigh. “Work smarter, not harder. Step aside.”

We back away while she extends a hand and closes her eyes. White light builds on her fingertips, growing and growing into a shimmering sphere. Ivy squints at the brightness.

I feel a bit useless, staring while she moves in and touches the energy to the stone. It seems to melt into the groove, steaming and cleaning away dried mud. It only lasts a moment before she backs away and nods at Enrik.

He approaches.

Round two.

This time, he has more success. It creaks, groans, and then…

*POP!*

The arm flies forward, sending Enrik tumbling. The ground vibrates while the bear’s jaw pops open, exposing a mouth filled with pointy stones.

And something else.

Atop its tongue, a sphere with carved beady eyes and protruding ears stares back at us. A keystone shaped like a cub. A goofy little tongue pokes from its mouth.

Endra, Goddess of Bounty…a deity with a sense of humor.

“Yeeee!” Ivy snatches the ball, fluttering in a victory lap around the rock formation.

She drops the keystone into Ivan’s outstretched palm.

“Two down, one to go.” He pulls the goggles onto his forehead. “You know what that means, right?”

“Goin’ to the waterfall!” Enrik peers into the distance. Even from here, the soaring waterfall is visible.

“Would you mind if I tagged along?” Livia watches us from atop her horse. “As much as I love our fine property, it can get awfully…stifling.”

She flashes a glance over her shoulder, almost like she’s being watched.

“But of course, m’lady. The more the merrier!” Ivan beckons us. “Troops—march!”

Our journey continues.