The goat track ends at the fissure, a black mouth webbed shut with fresh silk. From within comes the scrape of metal on stone, steady and deliberate. Whoever is inside is active now, and the trail to Nezznar clearly runs through this hideout toward Phandelver.

Bren shifts her weight by the opening, one hand near her blade, eyes on the webbing. Kynes studies the fissure and the angle of the trail, finding a narrow lip that will let them reach the opening without crossing the loose scree below.

The scraping stops for one breath, then starts again, louder. Inside the fissure, a faint red glimmer flickers across the webbing, as if a lantern has been turned toward the tunnel. The hidden path is no longer just a sign, it is an occupied route to Nezznar's network.

Kynes slips beneath the webbed lip of the fissure, his staff held low as the red glow thickens around him.

Fresh silk brushes his shoulders and catches at his hair, but he keeps moving, careful and silent.

Behind him, Bren halts at the entrance, watching the dark swallow his shape.

The passage narrows, then opens into a cramped chamber veined with stone and webbing.

Ahead, something in the red light shifts once, then stills.