(Dylan)

Wedge had kept his distance, hanging toward the back of the group. Moving silently through the tall grasses, his stone face was impossible to read.

‘Is he mad at me?’ Dylan wondered. ‘I bet he’s mad at me…"

The big guy finally approached, still holding the orange cloak in his hand. His shoulders grew heavy as he stared down at it. “I… made a mistake,” he said. “I will not stand in your way again.” He handed it over.

Dylan took the cloak from Wedge, looking up at his sharply angled gray face. He’d gotten it wrong. Wedge wasn’t upset with him; he was upset with himself over what happened.

He wasn’t sure what Wedge needed to hear, so he simply said what he felt. “Thanks.” Wedge looked down at him and nodded.

Dylan hurried to catch up with Runemist and asked, “What’s going to happen to Quinten?”

“Ideally, nothing,” she said. She had been acting strange since they encountered the arc beetle, avoiding eye contact as if something weighed on her mind. None of them would look directly at him—except for Athrax, who kept glancing at Dylan, still waiting for the answer to his question.

“No, I mean, what happens when he gets tired?” he asked, and then his imagination took over. “Or… he runs out of food, or gets in trouble, or gets lost? How’s he going to find his way back?”

“Dylan, stop,” Runemist said, holding up a clawed hand and interrupting his runaway thoughts. “This isn’t our first mission.” She held out her other hand, revealing a palm-sized stone. “This is how we’ll know he’s fine.”

Dylan opened his mouth, scratched his cheek, and then stated the obvious. “That’s a rock.”

Athrax, just ahead of them, snickered with quiet amusement. Runemist gave a low growl, silencing the old soldier. She held the stone out to Dylan. “Pick it up,” she said.

It was smooth, triangular, mostly blue with orange and gray stippling. To Dylan, it still looked like any other rock. He plucked it out of her hand and immediately felt the weight—but something about it was off.

The sensation was… sideways? It took a few seconds for him to realize the pull was tugging him backwards, toward the arc beetle.

His eyes lit up as he whispered, “It’s a magic rock…”

Runemist gave him a nod. “It’s paired with a brother, connected through dimension. Each will always lead to the other. Quinten can use the brother to find us.”

Dylan’s head tilted at the new concept. “Brother?”

“They’re twins, made of dimension and resonance,” Hay’len spoke up from behind, pointing between W’itney and themself. “Just like us. They’re copies made from the same stone.”

Hay’len’s voice softened, frowning slightly at the technicality. “I mean, we aren’t made of dimension or resonance…”

“Hay’len… You’re doing that thing again.” W’itney gave them a stern look.

“Sorry…” Hay’len said sheepishly. Their shoulders slumped as they slowed their pace, returning to the back of the group. W’itney sighed and shook their head before turning back to the open fields ahead.

“Huh, Didn’t think rocks had genders. Never thought to ask.” Dylan turned to Wedge. “You’re a boy… right?” The lithkai raised his eyebrows at him while the rest of the team burst into laughter. Even Runemist chuckled.

After they all finished getting the giggles out of their system, P’reslen appeared beside Dylan and motioned toward the stone. “You can talk to Quinten if you’d like.”

Something about the smooth rock brought Dylan comfort. Its cool surface rested naturally in his hand, as if it belonged to him. He glanced down as a wave of nostalgia washed over him; it felt like home.

“I can?” he asked.

“Bring it close and give it a whisper.” P’reslen mimicked talking to a handheld device.

Dylan didn’t believe him, but he brought the stone close to his mouth, his voice dropping into an awkward whisper. “Quinten?” A few moments passed, and he wondered if they were having a go at him.

“Still here, mate. That you, boss? Voice sounds a bit funny,” the rock said.

“It’s Dylan, just checking to see if you’re alright.” He was relieved to hear Quinten’s voice.

“Am I alright? Mate, I’m not the one who went face-first down a bloody cliff. Glad to hear you’re in one piece. Had to leg it after this arc beetle before it bolted on us again.”

Dylan was holding a genuine rockie-talkie. His smile went from cheek to cheek. “Magic is so cool.”

“If you think that’s something, give it a lick,” W’itney said with a grin.

Dylan looked at the rock, shrugged, and before anyone could stop him, licked it. It was salty and reminded him of flak. He spat, wiping his tongue off on the cloak again.

Eury grimaced, W’itney was in stitches again, and Ostello shook his head and sighed. Athrax completely ignored them until he turned around to find the group lagging behind.

“You’re so mean,” Hay’len said, crossing their arms and shaking their head disapprovingly.

Stolen story; please report.

“He just… He just…” W’itney couldn’t compose themself, barely able to breathe, pretending to lick an invisible rock in their hand.

“Give me that before you hurt yourself.” Runemist snatched the stone out of his hand.

“Did… somebody just lick this thing?” the rock asked.

Runemist handed the ‘rockie-talkie’ to Ostello. “You’re in charge of monitoring the echo locator. Notify me immediately if there’s any trouble.”

Before Ostello could take the device, she added, “These are the only pair of brothers we have. Don’t let Dylan touch it.” Dylan opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Ostello accepted them with a nod.

“And you…” She spun around to W’itney with an outstretched clawed finger. It had a sobering effect on them. “Wedge may be the one evaluating you, but this is my quest. Pull another prank while we’re in the field and I’ll make sure Cook Echo has an extra pair of hands until we get back to Nightshade.”

“But… What if we don’t get back?” W’itney asked. A question all of them had, but none were brave enough to ask.

“Then peeling tubers will be the least of your worries….”

Runemist collected herself, smoothing back the fur between her ears. “We’ve a bit of time before we’ve got to head back. Keep an eye out while we continue the search. There are still countless dangers in this jungle that could kill you. Again, speak up if you see something.”

Athrax took point, and both teams followed after him. Dylan walked ahead of his group and found himself next to Ostello as they crossed the lowlands, where the air hung thick with humidity and patches of uneven ground squelched underfoot.

“So, you call them echo locators?” Dylan did his best to keep up beside the intense elf.

“You heard Runemist the same as me.” Ostello preemptively cut off whatever shenanigans Dylan had in mind.

“I know. I’m not allowed to touch, but I can still ask questions, right?” Dylan’s legs were taut, his muscles well past exhaustion and teetering on the edge of failure. He hobbled awkwardly to keep up.

Ostello let out a small sigh, keeping a wary eye on Runemist. “What do you want to know?”

“Echo locator sounds more like a lamprian detector to me.” Dylan decided it was still far too warm to wear his orange cloak. Shifting the bundled mess in his hands, he smoothed it out and folded it neatly before draping it over one arm to free the other.

“That wasn’t a question,” Ostello said. He observed Dylan wouldn’t drop the conversation until satisfied and countered with a question of his own. “What would you have named it?”

Dylan got excited. This was his moment. “Rockie-talkies,” he said with a big smile.

Ostello wore a confused expression. “I don’t get it.”

Dylan’s grin faltered, and he let out an exaggerated sigh.

“It’s a rock. That you talk to.”

“That’s a bit basic, isn’t it?” Ostello contemplated with a finger to his chin. “Although, I guess it helps me understand how you named your planet Dirt.”

Dylan hated how much that made sense. He’d been prepared to explain all about walkie-talkies, but the wind had been taken out of his sails.

“Any ideas on how to distract the arc beetle so we can leave?” Runemist tossed the question to the group as they walked.

The lowland meadow stretched out around them, dotted with clusters of wildflowers in muted purples and yellows. Tall grasses swayed gently in the breeze, their golden tips brushing against Dylan’s legs as he trudged forward. The air buzzed with the hum of insects, punctuated by chirps and an occasional sharp snapping sound that set his nerves on edge. Despite the open space, the looming jungle canopy in the distance seemed to press in, a constant reminder of the arc beetle’s domain.

There were no immediate answers.

“What do we know about arc beetles?” If Dylan was going to contribute, he’d need to get caught up with what they knew.

“It’s a bloody uncommon-ranked kaiju, rampaging around with a juiced-up Arc orb,” Athrax said, glancing over his shoulder.

“Don’t forget about the serrated blades along the edges of its legs,” Dylan said.

Hay’len tilted their head and asked, “How’d you know that?”

‘Shit,’ Dylan thought. He knew that because he’d been reset when those blades cut him in half, but he wasn’t about to bring that up.

“Got a good look at them while it passed me by,” Dylan lied, trying to keep a casual tone. He’d blacked out before the beetle passed him. “Just pooling the information we know together, right?” he added with a weak smile. “Hopefully, it’ll give one of us an idea.” He wanted to keep the conversation on the arc beetle and off his abilities.

Athrax grunted. “Good to know. A rank disparity that wide, with no armor? I’d be beetle chow in seconds if I rushed it.”

Dylan was relieved to know Athrax wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“It likes long walks and flowers,” Hay’len said. W’itney shot them a concerned expression, then looked cautiously toward Runemist to see if they were in trouble again.

She watched the twins but dismissed W’itney with a snort and said, “Ostello, hand me the echo locator.” Once she had it in her hand, she brought it up to her snout and said, “Quinten.”

They only had to wait a moment before Quinten responded. “Still here. What can I do for you?”

“Has the arc beetle strayed from the lowlands?”

“Nah, it’s been out in the open the whole time—easy as to follow,” the rock said.

Dylan thought out loud about how to use this information. “It’s avoiding the trees, that, or the trees are avoiding it.”

Ostello raised an eyebrow, intrigued, while W’itney looked at him like he’d just said something ridiculous.

“Why?” the rock asked. “Should I be worried?"

“That… doesn’t make sense. How do trees avoid anything?” W’itney asked, looking to Hay’len to explain it to them, as was their nature.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking out loud,” Dylan said. “It’s big enough to knock down trees that get in the way, but it’s not big enough to walk over them.”

Ostello narrowed his gaze on Dylan. “Humans really do like stating the obvious.”

“I feel like I should be worried…” the rock said when no one replied to it.

“I’m cooking, let me cook,” Dylan said. He could see his phrasing didn’t translate well. “Which means there’ll be fallen trees wherever the arc beetle’s been.”

Ostello nodded at him slowly. “And how does that help us?”

“Oi, you lot still there?” the rock asked. “Bit quiet on your end.”

Dylan pointed to the rockie-talkie and said, “Ask him if he’s seen any break in the tree line.”

Runemist raised the stone to her muzzle again. “We’re still here.” She hesitated for a moment, weighing her options, before deciding to trust Dylan’s instincts. “Have you seen any breaks in the tree line?”

“The… tree line?” the rock asked.

“Yes. Have you noticed any gaps in the tree line large enough to suggest the beetle has left the lowlands?” she asked.

“Nah, but these lowlands’ve got a weird vibe, about ‘em,” the rock stated.

“Ask if the lowlands aren’t always ‘low’,” Dylan said.

She pulled the stone away from her mouth. “I’m not asking that.” Dylan gave her an insistent look.

She huffed, brought the stone back up, and said, “Dylan wants to know…” She shot him a quick glare, then closed her eyes. “If the lowlands aren’t always… low.”

“Yeah, how’d he know?” the rock asked.

“Just keep an eye on the arc beetle and let us know if there’s any trouble.” She set the stone firmly in Ostello’s hand before turning back to the group.

Athrax was the first to figure out what Dylan had been puzzling together. “So, the beetle’s staking out this clearing?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Dylan said. “I bet this entire area used to have trees like the rest of the jungle. Until the arc beetle moved in and made it a literal stomping ground.” He smiled. “We’ve found the monster’s lair.”

Wedge gave him a nod of approval.

“More importantly, we’ve narrowed down our search for the objective,” Runemist said.

“You sure this patch is worth it?” Athrax said, lifting his head to take in the meadow. “Could be wastin’ time while the book’s somewhere else.”

“We don’t have the resources or time to search the entire jungle,” she said. “We need to track the beetle, and it makes sense the objective would be hidden in the most dangerous part of the region.”