The propeller's drone faded as the battered seaplane lifted away from the muddy riverbank, leaving Leo and Anya alone in the hush of the jungle’s waking heat. Mist clung to the undergrowth, curling between thick buttress roots and jangling vines. Leo adjusted his pack, map pressed flat against his chest, every sense sharpened. He could feel Anya’s gaze lingering on him—a mix of calculation and something softer, more elusive.
They moved off the makeshift dock, boots sinking into mossy loam. Parrots startled from the branches overhead, bursting into color and noise. Leo followed the river upstream, thumbing the map’s fragile edge. The Sunstone’s clues began here, somewhere among the twisted trails and stone temples his grandfather once believed mere myth.
Anya strode beside him, her machete at the ready. “We stick to the ridge, avoid the floodplain. The map shows a marker near three standing stones. If we keep west—”
“Since when do you take the safe route?” Leo shot her a crooked grin. “Or is this your way of making up for last time?”
She cut him a look, the old fire in her eyes, but her lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “Last time, we almost lost two toes to a crocodile. I’d rather not repeat it.”
A silence settled, weighted with memory—a mud-choked river, a flurry of panic, his hand grabbing hers. Leo shook it off, focusing on the trees ahead. The tension between them was electric, every word hanging heavy with all they hadn’t said.
They skirted a fallen log, pausing as Anya knelt to examine strange marks—deep gouges in the bark, centuries old. “These match the glyphs in the codex. We’re close.”
She looked up, their faces inches apart in the dappled light. Her breath was quick, her determination palpable. “If we find the Sunstone, what then? What do you hope it will fix?”
Leo’s own breath caught. “My grandfather’s life. Maybe… maybe my own.” He let the words fall, sudden and real between them.
A distant call—a jaguar, or just a trick of the wind—echoed through the trees. The map fluttered in his hands as Leo forced his focus back to the path. They pressed on, the undergrowth thickening, every branch and rustle alive with threat and promise.
At last, the jungle opened up into a clearing, sunlight falling onto three towering stones arranged in a rough triangle. Moss covered most of their surfaces, but faint carvings glimmered beneath the green. Leo stepped forward, reverence slowing his pace.
“This is it,” he whispered, tracing the sun-spiral etched into the tallest stone.
Anya joined him, shoulder brushing his. “If the codex is right, there’s a mechanism hidden in the stones. We’ll need both our hands.”
She reached for his, warm fingers sliding over his knuckles. For a moment, time seemed to snag. Electricity crackled between them, memory and longing mingling in the humid air. “Ready?” she murmured, voice low.
Before Leo could answer, a sharp crack split the air—a pistol shot. A bird exploded from the leaves. Leo ducked instinctively, pulling Anya behind the monolith. Another crack—closer. Someone else was in the clearing, shadowy shapes slipping between the trees.
Anya’s grip tightened. Her whisper was fierce against his ear. “We’re not alone. And they’re armed.”
Leo’s pulse thundered. The map, the stones, Anya so close—his next move could mean everything.