Had I found a cave that hadn’t been discovered yet?
Was this one of the disconnected caverns—a cave that wasn’t part of the known network and full of archaeological surprises?
The itch of adventure returned.
Screw finding the boulder.
If the cave had tunnels and chambers, that would make an insane YouTube video in its own right. Grasping the branch tighter, I twisted to look back the way I’d climbed.
I’d have to go back up to grab my backpack, and I should definitely return for more rations before I—
Wait, what’s that?
I froze, narrowing my eyes at the flash of sunlight on something below. Something that was so camouflaged it blended into the valley landscape.
Surely, that isn’t a—
I looked harder, tracing the hard-to-see outline of a roof and chimney. A house. No, not a house. A mansion.
A mansion covered in vines, leaves, and the undeniable trick of nature to blur its existence. Wildflowers grew out of the roof, breaking up the large expanse of camo-painted metal. Exposed rock and chiseled stone hinted at how the building was made while greenery did its best to consume it.
The gardens around it were just as wild, giant trees casting shade over long grass waving like water in the gentle breeze. Even looking directly at it, I struggled to comprehend it was manmade and not some wonderful natural enigma.
I’d never seen anything so covered in plants yet so obviously created by hands instead of soil. It was utterly foreign and creatively hidden.
Is it a ruin?
Some sort of fort from the Civil War?
A hideout for some bureaucrat?
I climbed without thinking.
I descended instead of ascended. I left my backpack and recording gear; I turned my back on sensible decisions. I focused only on reaching the valley floor.
I have to know.
It didn’t take long.
The methodicalness of climbing took over my mind and motor skills. Grab a branch, drop down, slide down an embankment, pause. Track left for a better path, then crisscross to the right before trusting my body and a tree growing at a steep angle to catch me as I jumped a small distance.
By the time I leaped the final way from the cliff to the valley floor, sweat trickled down my temples, and beneath my windbreaker, workout hoodie, and exercise t-shirt, my skin was wet.
The babble of the river made my mouth water to drink and swim, but the house was even larger from down here.
A two-story sprawling monster with arched windows, carved keystones, heavy wooden doors with iron hinges, and a footprint larger than any suburban home available today.
It looked abandoned. Sad almost.
I stepped forward, drawn to it.
What are you doing, Gem?
You’re trespassing.
I stopped and looked around, my ears twitching for any sign that someone lived here. That they might have a gun and shoot me for being on their property. But no sign of habitation existed. No footprints, no debris, no smells of cooking or fires, no laughter or TV.
The air shimmered around it as if trying to protect it, to turn it into a mirage and fool me into thinking there was nothing there at all.
I have to see.
Balling my hands, I strode out of the shadowy forest around the cliff’s edge and waded through the long swaying grasses. They rustled around my legs, leaving my black leggings covered in fine golden pollen.
My heart galloped as I reached a heavy wooden door. It hung open slightly as if someone, so many years ago, had left in a hurry and forgotten to lock up. I looked at the stone entryway, searching for signs of animals.
Had this huge building become a shelter for forest creatures? Did bears hibernate inside?
Sucking in a breath, I knocked.
I waited.
Nothing.
I sucked in another breath and pushed the door, expecting to find it stiff and creaky in its old age. Instead, it swung on silent hinges, sweeping over marble tiles and revealing an industrial-size kitchen.
I froze on the threshold.
Neat wooden cabinets, clean wooden countertops, and a skylight directly above the range. The random clumps of dirt and wildflowers growing above blocked the sun in places. Higher still, the crisscross of branches that had once looked like a carpet when I’d looked down from the cliff had now transformed into a ceiling, providing a patchwork view of the sky.
Pots hung from a rack over the sink. Knives waited to be used in a butcher block. Everything was clean and tidy.
Clean!
No dust, no animal debris, no sign of disrepair.
This looked lived in.
This looks recently lived in.
How did the place look so abandoned and miserable from the outside, yet inside it was obviously cared for and appreciated?
Goosebumps broke out as my eyes flew faster around the space. A large fridge clicked over, humming with age in the corner, hinting that not only was this place an existing home but it also had electricity in the middle of nowhere.
How?
What was this place?
Desperate to see more, my legs ached to creep deeper into the house.
Stop.
Propriety made me pause.
You can’t just go wandering into someone’s home.
What on earth are you thinking?
I should go back outside. I should leave. At the very least, I should wait until whoever lived here found me and offered an invite instead of me taking advantage.
Clearing my throat, I called, “Hello? Anyone there?”
I waited for a few ragged heartbeats.
Nothing.
“Hello? I don’t mean to intrude.”
Well then, stop trespassing.
Go outside.
I’d never been good at self-discipline.
I’ll just see if they’re in the next room.
Maybe whoever lived here was old and deaf. They might need help being so far from society and people.
“Hello? I mean no harm.”
Creeping forward, I left the kitchen and passed a narrow wooden staircase heading upstairs. A soft breeze whistled down, faintly musty but refreshing. The air was appreciated as the rest of the house felt stagnant and hot, soaking up the heat from the summer outside and trapping it within its stone belly.
A noise came from up ahead, wrenching my stare from the staircase, summoning me forward. “Anyone there?”
Moving faster, I followed the corridor until it spilled out into a cavernous foyer. Its door had been pushed aside, leaving the access open...but it wasn’t a typical door. Heavy and carved, it mimicked a bookcase—designed to hide the corridor, hinting that it led to staff quarters.
And this? This room that I’d just stepped into was most definitely not for staff. This was for royalty. This was for people with money and titles and fame.
“Oh, wow...” I breathed, drinking in its size and majesty.
If the outside looked like a crumpling, ivy-smothered relic, the inside was a palace. The greatest lie imaginable on the exterior, hiding the true wealth within.
Ceilings soared upward, a carved marble staircase with wide shallow steps led to a balcony that branched off onto a mezzanine, granting a viewing platform to the foyer below. A chandelier glimmered with a million crystals, sending delicate rainbows over my clothing. A fine layer of dust rested on each crystal, a cobweb dangling off the bottom.
But that was the only imperfection I could see.
Embossed with silvery swirls and golden flecks, the thick wallpaper covering the walls looked as if it had been inlaid with precious metals. Gray-veined marble tiles kept the air cool by my feet, and massive gilded artwork of the valley and its river brought the perfection of outside in.