Nyla found the blue line beneath a crust that looked like ice.
She stopped the others before anyone stepped onto it. The upper shelf lay in full morning light, its pale surface shining between darker outcrops. Water moved beneath the crust in a narrow thread. Where the surface broke, the edge crumbled into powder rather than melting.
“Mineral,” she said.
Garn touched it with the end of his staff. A little white plate fell away and dissolved in the moving water below.
They took the rough rock along its upper edge.
The long kiln path had brought them above the natural chimney without using the service stair Iven had damaged during the earlier survey. That stair remained closed. From this height, the rubble plug looked less like a wall and more like a heap poured into a throat too narrow to receive it.
Warm air rose through crooked gaps between the blocks. Seed plants grew where the damp escaped, their white heads folded in daylight. Farther down, a thin green film followed the water along the stone.
Nyla crouched beside it and checked the temperature.
