A sharp rap echoed through Rhys’s office. “Enter,” he commanded, his voice tight. Elara stepped in, Kincaid a silent shadow behind her. Her eyes held a determined glint, challenging the cold formality of the room. Rhys leaned back, fingers steepled. “You have your two weeks, Elara. Not a minute more.” “I understand,” she replied, her voice steady. “Kincaid will lead the team,” Rhys continued, eyes fixed on Elara. “His primary objective is your safety. His secondary objective is ensuring you don’t deviate from the mission. Any unusual activity, any attempts to contact outside parties, and the deal is off.” Kincaid gave a curt nod. “The team is ready, sir. Two geological survey experts, two security operatives, and a medic. Standard Oakhaven reconnaissance package.” Elara felt a prick of irritation at the 'reconnaissance package' description. This wasn't a standard survey. This was personal. “The ‘heart’ you spoke of,” Rhys pressed, ignoring Elara’s unspoken reaction. “Where do we begin?” “The old church,” Elara stated, her gaze unwavering. “It’s the anchor. My grandmother always said the village’s true spirit lay beneath its oldest stone.” Rhys gave a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Vague. Find specifics. Geological, historical, anything tangible. Bring back proof Oakhaven isn't just a sentimental relic.” “I will,” Elara promised, a fire burning in her. Hours later, a convoy of black SUVs cut through the familiar winding roads leading to Oakhaven. Dust plumed behind the vehicles, settling slowly on the parched fields. Inside the lead SUV, Elara sat beside Kincaid. His profile remained impassive, eyes scanning the passing landscape. She felt the weight of expectation, not just from Rhys, but from her own ancestors. Reaching the village, the air thickened with a quiet melancholy. Empty windows stared like hollow eyes. Kincaid gestured. “Secure the perimeter. Establish a temporary base at the old schoolhouse. No unauthorized personnel near the church.” His team moved with practiced efficiency, black-clad figures fanning out. Elara stepped out, breathing in the scent of damp earth and forgotten memories. “The church,” she said, turning to Kincaid. “Let’s start there.” Approaching the ancient stone structure, a sense of profound history enveloped them. The church stood weathered, its bell tower reaching for a sky that seemed too vast for its small existence. Inside, the air was cool and still, carrying the scent of old wood and dust. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the worn flagstones. “Okay, Elara,” Kincaid’s voice was crisp. “Where exactly?” She walked slowly down the central aisle, her hand brushing against the cold stone pillars. Her grandmother’s words echoed: *“The heart beats deep, beneath the oldest prayers.”* Stopping near the altar, Elara knelt, her fingers tracing the faint, almost imperceptible lines on the flagstones. “My grandmother mentioned a hidden crypt,” she murmured, more to herself than Kincaid. One of the geological experts, a quiet woman named Dr. Chen, brought over a ground-penetrating radar unit.

Chapter 21: The Expedition Begins