Chapter 123: Whiteboards And Weird Riddles

Kane stared out the passenger window as Cyrus navigated the Jaguar through midday traffic, Madam Xiu’s cryptic verse replaying in his mind.

"Time is already running out," Kane muttered, his fingers drumming anxiously against his thigh. "Did she mean what I think she means?"

Cyrus glanced at Kane, noting the tension in his shoulders.

"We’ll check on her the moment we return to Veyr Corp," Cyrus said, his voice steady and reassuring.

"Isabelle will have updates on her condition."

Kane’s leg bounced restlessly. "But what if—"

"Kane." Cyrus reached over, placing his hand over Kane’s fidgeting fingers.

"Madam Xiu confirmed the healing shard exists. That’s more than we had this morning."

"A riddle about halls of stone and mercy sleeping isn’t exactly a GPS location."

"We’ll figure it out." Cyrus squeezed Kane’s hand gently.

Kane’s breathing slowed slightly, though worry still creased his brow.

Moments later, the Jaguar pulled into Veyr Corp. Cyrus handed his keys to the valet without breaking stride, Kane matching his urgent pace toward the elevators.

They went straight to the medical wing, their footsteps echoing through sterile corridors lined with monitoring equipment.

The soft hum of life support systems grew louder as they approached Rina’s room.

Kane pushed through the door first, his breath catching at the sight of Rina’s still form.

She lay unconscious on the medical bed. Various monitors tracked her vital signs with steady, reassuring beeps.

Isabelle sat beside the bed, her usually immaculate posture slightly slouched with exhaustion.

Dark circles shadowed her ice-blue eyes despite her composed expression.

She looked up as they entered, straightening herself.

"Her condition remains stable," Isabelle reported, her voice maintaining its professional clip despite the obvious fatigue.

"No deterioration since the procedure, but no improvement either."

Kane moved closer to the bed, studying Rina’s peaceful face.

"I’m monitoring her around the clock," Isabelle continued, her gaze returning to Rina.

"I’m doing everything I can."

"You’ve done exceptional work, Isabelle," Cyrus said, his voice carrying genuine gratitude.

"We’re pursuing leads on a healing artifact; I’m sure we’ll find a solution."

Isabelle nodded curtly, though her shoulders relaxed slightly at the acknowledgment.

Kane settled into the chair beside Rina’s bed.

He reached out, gently brushing his fingers across her still hand. Her skin felt cool but solid, more stable than yesterday’s flickering translucency.

Isabelle’s voice cut through his spiral, unexpected in its gentleness.

"She’s stronger than you think."

Kane looked up, startled by the rare softness in her tone.

"Thank you, Isabelle," Kane said quietly. "For everything you’re doing for her."

Kane squeezed Rina’s hand once more before standing, following Cyrus out of the medical wing toward the executive floors.

In Cyrus’s office, Kane immediately went to the supply closet, emerging with a wheeled whiteboard that he positioned near the window.

Afternoon light slanted across the pristine surface as Kane uncapped a marker.

Kane wrote the riddle across the whiteboard in careful block letters, stepping back to study the words with furrowed concentration.

"Okay, let’s break this down systematically," Kane muttered, tapping the marker against his chin.

"Halls of stone—that’s obviously some kind of building. Castle? Cathedral? Abandoned D&D dungeon?

He drew a circle around the phrase, adding question marks.

"And ’where the last song echoes’—maybe somewhere with acoustics?"

Cyrus watched from his desk, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth as Kane paced back and forth like a professor delivering a lecture.

"The weight of bone suggests death," Kane continued, drawing connecting lines between phrases.

"Cemetery? Mausoleum? Some kind of burial ground where mercy sleeps?"

"You’re thinking too literally," Cyrus observed quietly, setting down his pen.

Kane spun around, marker poised. "What do you mean?"

"Halls of stone where the last song echoes," Cyrus repeated thoughtfully.

"Consider what kind of place would have both stone architecture and be associated with final songs."

Kane’s eyes lit up. "A church! Funeral hymns, stone construction—"

"Closer, but still surface-level." Cyrus leaned back in his chair. "Think older. What structures have witnessed the final songs of entire civilizations?"

Kane’s enthusiasm deflated slightly. "Ruins?"

"Battlefields," Cyrus corrected gently.

"Ancient fortresses where armies made their last stands. Where mercy would indeed sleep beneath the weight of countless bones."

Kane stared at the whiteboard, his marker hovering uncertainly over the cryptic words.

"Ancient battlefields, maybe, but that still doesn’t narrow it down much," he said, frustration creeping into his voice.

"There are probably dozens of old fortresses around Feilun alone."

Just then, his phone buzzed against the desk where he’d left it. Kane glanced at the screen, seeing Bob’s name flash across the notification.

Coffee still on for 3? Meet me at the Westmore Hotel - Bob

Kane checked the time. It’s two-thirty; he didn’t realize how much time had passed.

"Cyrus, don’t forget our meeting with Bob."

Cyrus’s fingers stilled on his keyboard, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Of course," Cyrus said, his voice perfectly neutral. "I’m sure Mr. Holloway has valuable information to share."

Kane caught the subtle ice beneath Cyrus’s words but chose not to address it.

Time was running out for Rina, and Bob might have answers they desperately needed.

"I’ll tackle the riddle when I get back," Kane said, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Maybe Bob knows something about healing artifacts from his father’s collection."

Cyrus nodded curtly, already turning back to his computer screen.

Kane followed Cyrus through Veyr Corp’s marble lobby, the familiar weight of anticipation settling in his chest.

They stepped into the afternoon sunlight, where the Jaguar waited.

As Cyrus navigated through downtown traffic toward the Westmore Hotel, Kane found himself studying the familiar route.

The last time they’d driven here felt like a lifetime ago—that first night when Kane had been a suspicious investigator in new clothes, hungry and overwhelmed by Cyrus’s world.

Now he sat comfortably in the passenger seat, wearing his tailored jacket, his fingers intertwined with Cyrus’s free hand.

"Remember the first time you brought me here?" Kane asked, watching the hotel’s golden facade come into view.

Cyrus’s mouth curved slightly. "Yeah, you were staring at everything like a tourist."

The Jaguar pulled into the hotel’s circular drive, and they made their way through the grand lobby toward the luxury café.

Kane spotted Bob immediately—his honey-blond hair catching the afternoon light as he waved enthusiastically from a corner table.

His warm smile and eager energy created a stark contrast to Cyrus’s storm-dark aura, like sunshine crashing into thunder.