As they moved, Daniel noticed details that chilled him: tool marks fresh on the walls, piles of loose soil not yet compacted, and crude braces wedged at awkward angles. This wasn’t decades old. This was recent, alive with the evidence of work still underway. His heart beat faster with every step.
Fifty yards in, one officer cursed softly. A heap of discarded supplies littered the ground—plastic water bottles, wrappers, even the stub of a candle burned low. Daniel crouched, running his hand over the wax. It hadn’t collected dust, hadn’t even melted fully. “Whoever was here,” he whispered, “was here recently.”