The sun lay low as I reached the caverns. The ground seemed to just disappear about thirty paces forward. The wall of gray stone on the other side of the canyon was speckled with spaces of black. It seemed insane, but my eyes focused immediately on a low-lying entrance. It was indiscernible from the others, and yet it seemed to know I was coming. The moment I laid eyes on the walkway that would take me to the cavern, a soft glow seemed to overtake the dimming sky, lighting my path.

I tread carefully as I stepped onto the pathway on the cliff's edge. My feet struggled to find grip on the dusty stone. It was clear this area had been abandoned log ago. In another situation I would have closed my eyes and imagined what had once taken place here. As it were, I just didn’t want to fall into the massive canyon below. The whispers were quiet, they seemed satisfied with my progress. Each footstep seemed to echo through the stone, I was unsure if it was my imagination or the reality of such an empty space finally finding someone willing to occupy it. The pathway was narrow. I took each step with a purpose typically reserved for delicious meals or defensive maneuvers. My whole being was tied up in a mission given to me by what could honestly turn out to be an early sign of dementia. Yet, I couldn’t stop.

The path narrowed as I neared the doorway. I trailed both my hands against the rough stone of the wall as I side shuffled. The moment I reached the opening, the room seemed to come alive. The whispers returned ferociously. It was as though I was hearing the stories of a hundred people as they fought to be heard. They needed to be heard. Their voices swirled around me like a blizzard of human consciousness. This time I did close my eyes. I let them tell their tales, I caught a word here and there. It didn’t matter that I didn’t understand, that I didn’t act. The voices didn’t need me to be a vessel. They needed me to bear witness. I stood very still until the very last whisper faded into the darkness of the cavern.

I sat upon the dusty floor. I was tired. The day of travel had taken a lot out of me, and I hadn’t taken proper precautions when loading up for the journey. My water was running low and there was no food left. I didn’t feel hungry per se, I never did. Years of scraping by to survive had numbed any grumbling my stomach might have had. I just knew my energy level was compromised.
I could think of was rest. I willed myself to my feet against every argument my body could muster. I took a single step towards the door and the soft glow returned to the cavern. I could make out stains on the walls, perhaps once blood. I could see digs throughout the stone, evidence of a sword-fight long ago. I used the tips of my fingers to follow the scrapes, trying to piece together an image in my mind.

My fingers fit almost perfectly in a set of three carved scars. Without thought I touched my own scars on my right calf. Identical cuts. My eyes finally settled on the human remains in the corner and my stomach sank as I noticed the white glove covering the left arm.

How? I knew that glove. I knew the story. I knew what I was seeing and yet, it was impossible. The body was far too decayed to have been the beautiful brunette with the sky-blue eyes I’d seen just weeks ago.
But how did Kyla’s most prized possession end up in a cavern on a years-old corpse?