The Trinket Box - Chapter 14
Chapter 14: The One Who Is Missing
They left the basin at first light. As the darkness disappeared with the rising sun, the monster of mist that had attacked them in the night seemed a little less scary. Although Maria most definitely did not want another visit from the mist monster.
“Saer-alin?”
He turned to look at her raising an eyebrow in question.
“Is that mist monster as powerful in the daylight as it was in the dark?”
Saer-alin looked thoughtful. “This is a good question,” he replied. “I have never fought one during the daylight, so I am not certain.”
As they retreated from the ring of stones, the air seemed to loosen its hold, the pressure that had lingered through the long hours of watch eased into something lighter. Maria felt it as a gentle nudge.
Kirrk, still weak but awake, stirred at Maria’s feet and gave a soft chirr. He wobbled to his feet and promptly tipped sideways.
“Oh—nope,” Sam said, crouching. “You are not walking.”
Kirrk chirred weakly and tried again.
Maria scooped him up gently, settling his round weight against her chest. He was warmer than before, and heavier too.
“You’re riding,” she told him firmly.
Kirrk puffed a little in protest, then deflated in acceptance. Maria thought she saw a slight smirk of satisfaction from him, though, as if he would enjoy being carried. She opened her pack and stuffed him in it, his head peeking out the top. Proximity to The Trinket Box didn’t seem to bother him.
Saer-alin watched them for a moment, then he turned toward the narrow path leading out of the basin.
“We must go lower,” he said. “The Stone of Keeping is not the first place we will stop.”
Sam frowned. “I thought that was the whole point.”
“It is the end,” Saer-alin replied. “Not the beginning.”
Maria adjusted her grip on Kirrk. “So what’s first?”
Saer-alin hesitated.
Then he said, “Someone failed to stand Watch.”
The words landed heavily.
Sam straightened. “Failed how?”
Saer-alin started down the path. “By leaving.”
Maria’s stomach tightened. She followed, careful of her footing as the trail narrowed and sloped downward through scrub and stone. The air felt thicker, damp with the promise of water.
“Who left?” she asked.
Saer-alin didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was quieter.
“A Karuune keeper,” he said.
Sam blinked. “I thought they didn’t leave their posts.”
“They are not meant to,” Saer-alin said.
Maria felt a chill. “Why would one leave?”
Saer-alin glanced back at her and stated obliquely, “Because there is a cost to standing Watch.”
He had mentioned this in a little more detail to her and Sam when they all stood Watch, but she was still a little fuzzy on the details. She wanted to ask more questions, but Saer-alin didn’t seem in the mood to answer, so she just trailed along after him.
The path opened into a shallow ravine where water trickled down moss-dark stone. The sound was somewhat comforting—something steady and ordinary. Almost too ordinary for a world that felt constantly on the edge of strain.
Saer-alin stopped near the stream and knelt, pressing his palm to the damp ground.
“The marker here is too quiet,” he said, unknowingly repeating Maria’s thought of just moments before.
Sam frowned. “Isn’t quiet good?”
“Not always,” Saer-alin replied.
Maria shifted Kirrk slightly as he let out a faint chirr, his eyes opening wider as they neared the water.
“The keeper assigned here—his duty was to listen for strain along this channel,” Saer-alin continued. “When he left, the boundary compensated.”
Maria’s chest tightened. “By shifting pressure somewhere else.”
“Yes.”
Sam rubbed his arms. “So… someone got overwhelmed, walked away, and now everything’s worse.”
Saer-alin didn’t correct him.
Maria stared at the water. It flowed smoothly enough, but something about it felt wrong—too even, like it was being held in check unnaturally.
“What happens to someone who leaves watch?” she asked.
Saer-alin stood slowly. “Nothing happens to them.”
Maria looked up sharply. “That’s it?”
“That is the danger,” Saer-alin said. “The cost does not fall on the one who walks away.”
Sam muttered, “Of course it doesn’t.”
Saer-alin met his gaze. “It falls on the boundary. And on those near it.”
Maria hugged Kirrk closer, understanding dawning painfully. “So we’re here because someone else couldn’t carry it anymore.”
“Yes.”
Sam swallowed. “And now we have to.”
Saer-alin inclined his head. “Until the Watch is restored—or the fracture widens. ”
The air stirred, cool and uneasy.
Maria thought about The Trinket Box and, for the first time, she wondered not just how it worked—but why it existed at all.
“Saer-alin,” she said quietly, “did the box belong to the Watcher who left?”
Saer-alin’s gaze sharpened. “No.”
“Then who did it belong to?”
Saer-alin hesitated. Long enough that Maria knew the answer was an important one.
“It belonged to someone who believed the Watch could be shared,” he said. “Not held by a few. But carried carefully by those willing to listen.”
Sam frowned. “That sounds… hopeful.”
“Yes,” Saer-alin said. “But dangerous.”
“I don’t understand,” said Maria. “Wouldn’t more people to carry the burden be a good thing?”
“Normally, yes. But the importance of the Watch is such that it should only be given to those who are strong and will not be led away or distracted or overwhelmed. It requires great patience and fortitude as well as the teachings.”
Maria nodded. She felt the weight of his statement settle deep in her chest. She began to feel a sense of responsibility for the state of the boundary. She and Sam had caused this when they crossed over.
They followed the stream until it narrowed and vanished beneath a slab of stone. Beyond it, the land dipped sharply, the air growing cooler.
Saer-alin stopped again.
“The keeper who left went this way,” he said.
Sam stared down the descending path. “Are we… going after him?”
Saer-alin nodded. “We must find him.”
Maria’s heart pounded. “What if he doesn’t want to be found?”
Saer-alin’s expression grew solemn. “Then we must decide whether Watch can be restored—or whether the boundary will break where he once stood.”
Kirrk let out a small, uneasy chirr.
Maria took a slow breath, steadying herself. This was no longer about waiting or learning. Time seemed to be of the essence. It was their responsibility now to repair what was torn and set a new Watch in place. The sooner the better.
“Okay,” she said. “Then let’s go.”
Sam nodded, jaw set. “Yeah. Let’s.”
Saer-alin turned and led the way downward, toward a place where Watch had failed—and where its cost was about to be made visible.
Far behind them, in the basin they had left, the stones remained quiet. The danger there had moved from the stone ring and, keeping to the shadows, it now followed their small group, waiting for another chance.
Keep going! ☺️