A small wooden table sat against one side, uneven but sturdy, with two chairs tucked beneath it. A low shelf held a few unidentifiable objects softened by dust. Everything felt old—but not abandoned. “This looks like a house,” Nora said quietly. Ethan swept his headlamp across the room.
The light caught on scuffed floorboards laid over stone, a threadbare rug pushed against the wall, and the faint outline of a hearth that had long since gone cold. Whoever had built this hadn’t just sheltered here. They’d lived here. Then the beam dipped lower. Against the wall nearest the door sat several wooden barrels, their hoops dark with moisture.