1. Maple #2
The pull was strongest here, so intense it made her fingers tremble as she lifted her shovel. Whatever waited beneath the earth called to her with a resonance that bypassed rational thought entirely, settling deep in her bones like a tuning fork struck against stone.
The artifact has to be here. The certainty blazed through her chest, hot and bright and terrifying.
Ben crouched beside her, studying the ground with the methodical attention of someone who'd spent years reading terrain for archaeological potential.
"The soil composition looks promising. Undisturbed layers, minimal erosion patterns.
" He glanced up at her, his expression cautious.
"But I have to say it again—this feels wrong, Maple. "
"What do you mean?"
"We're not just trespassing on land here. This feels like something more significant than a random artifact."
The words sent a chill down her spine despite the desert heat. She followed his gaze across the landscape, noting the way the canyon walls seemed to curve inward here, creating a natural amphitheater that felt hidden from the world.
"All the more reason to find it quickly." She pressed the blade of her shovel into the earth, the metal scraping against stone and packed dirt.
They worked in companionable silence, the rhythmic scrape of tools against earth the only sound. Maple's heart hammered as they carved away layers of sediment, each scoop bringing them closer to whatever waited below.
Please be there. Please be real. Please don't let this be another dead end.
The minutes stretched like hours. Fifteen minutes became twenty, then twenty-five. Ben's movements grew more mechanical, less hopeful, while Maple fought against the growing knot of despair in her chest.
Nothing. There's nothing here. I've dragged us both into legal trouble for a fantasy.
At thirty minutes, Ben sat back on his heels, sweat darkening his shirt despite the dry heat. "Maple, maybe we should—"
Her shovel struck something solid with a metallic clang that echoed off the canyon walls.
"Jackpot." The word came out breathless.
Ben's head snapped to her, skepticism replaced by sudden alertness. "What did you find?"
"I don't know yet." Maple's hands shook as she set aside the shovel, reaching for her brush. "But it's not natural stone."
They worked together now with renewed urgency, carefully clearing away centuries of accumulated earth and debris. The object emerged slowly—first a curved edge, then what looked like carved symbols, finally the full outline of something that made Maple's breath catch in her throat.
Red stone, smooth as glass despite its obvious age, roughly the size of her palm.
At first glance it looked ordinary, like any number of artifacts she'd uncovered over the years.
But as she lifted it from its earthen cradle, the weight felt wrong—too heavy for its size, as if it contained something denser than mere stone.
"Careful with that," Ben warned, though his voice carried more curiosity than concern now. "We don't know what kind of preservation issues—"
Maple's fingers traced the carved symbol on its surface almost without conscious thought. A triangle, perfectly geometric, etched deep into the stone with a precision that spoke of advanced tools and careful craftsmanship.
But the moment her fingertip completed the triangle's outline, the world changed.
Light erupted from within the stone, not harsh or blinding but warm and pulsing, as if she held a beating heart made of fire. The glow spread up her arm like liquid heat, flooding her system with a sensation that was part pleasure, part terror, part recognition so profound it stole her breath.
Mine, something whispered in the depths of her mind.
"Oh no." The words tumbled from her lips as heat flooded her body, racing through her veins like molten gold. "What is happening?"
Ben scrambled backward, his eyes wide as he stared at the glowing artifact in her hand. "That was unexpected."
Unexpected.
The understatement would have been funny if Maple could think past the fire spreading through her chest, and the way her pulse seemed to sync with the stone's rhythmic glow. She felt changed, as if something fundamental about her biology had just shifted.
The artifact didn't just react to her touch—it felt like it recognized her.
"We need to get this and ourselves out of here. Now." She forced her voice to remain steady despite the chaos in her blood.
Ben nodded, already reaching for their packs. "I told you this was a bad idea."
Maybe he was right.
The thought cut through her euphoria like a blade. She'd found what she'd been searching for, but now she held stolen property that defied every law of physics she understood. Property that was somehow connected to her on a level that transcended rational explanation.
The hike back to her Jeep passed in a haze of heat shimmer and mounting panic.
The artifact had stopped glowing once she'd wrapped it carefully in her spare shirt, but she could still feel its presence like a second heartbeat.
Every step took them further from Trigg Corporation land and closer to safety, but also closer to the moment when she'd have to decide what to do next.
By the time they reached the vehicle, parked in a wash where it wouldn't be visible from the main road, Maple's mind was racing through options.
She could try to handle this alone, research the artifact in secret, hope that whatever was happening to her would resolve itself without outside intervention.
But as she slid behind the wheel and started the engine, reality crashed over her like a cold wave.
I need help. Real help. The kind only one person can provide.
"I have to call my mother." The admission scraped her throat raw.
Ben glanced at her sharply. "Your mother? The retired historian who spent your entire childhood telling you to stop chasing fantasies?"
"She knows more about artifact authentication and legal protection than anyone else in the Southwest." Maple pulled onto the main road, her knuckles white against the steering wheel.
"If Serena finds out about this—if anyone finds out I've been trespassing on corporate land and concealing a discovery—my career is over. "
The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Her mother would be disappointed but not surprised. Another example of Maple's impractical obsessions leading her into trouble. Another reminder that wonder and professional stability could never coexist.
But beneath all the practical concerns, beneath the worry of legal consequences and career suicide, a deeper fear gnawed at her consciousness.
The artifact didn't just react randomly. It reacted to me. And I have absolutely no idea why.