The Jug Rock Cipher - Chapter Thirteen: The Seal Is Not Yours

 Dover Hill Ridge – Minutes Later

Kate froze.

I turned toward the ridge’s edge, the sound of boots crunching leaves unmistakable now.

Ryland appeared first, then Brenner, both armed and confident. Mason followed at a distance, filming.

“Didn’t I say this wasn’t over?” Ryland called out, his tone light, but tight with threat.

He stepped down into the circle like he owned it—like centuries of forgotten earth meant nothing to him. The ancient mound creaked beneath his weight.

I stood in front of the stone slab, the backpack still slung over my shoulder.

“You’re too late,” I said.

He smiled. “Eli, come on. You’re a smart man. You don’t even know what you’re carrying.”

Kate stepped beside me. “We know enough. We know it was meant to stay buried.”

Ryland shook his head. “You think burying it again solves anything? Do you really believe you can stop what’s coming with silence and shovels?”

Brenner raised his rifle slightly—not aimed, not yet, but enough.

“We’re not here to kill anyone,” Ryland said. “But that box belongs to something much bigger than you. Than me. Than this town.”

I unslung the backpack slowly and set it on the grass behind me.

“You’re right,” I said. “It’s bigger. That’s why it needs to stay here.”

Ryland took a step closer. “Don’t do this. You don’t even know what’s inside.”

Then Kate did something unexpected.

She reached into the backpack and pulled out the chest. The wax was gone. The inscription—Bound. Not Broken.—glinted in the pale morning light.

She held it out like a question.

“Then let’s all find out.”

Ryland hesitated.

And in that instant, Kate turned—not toward him, but toward the stone slab.

She dropped to her knees and began to fit the box down into the depression behind the upside-down triangle. A perfect fit.

Ryland lunged forward.

I stepped between them, raising my arms, just as the box clicked into place with a deep, dull thrum—a sound that came from beneath the ground.

Ryland stopped dead.

Even Brenner lowered his rifle.

The wind picked up suddenly, but only within the circle. Leaves swirled in a rising spiral. The trees around us seemed to lean inward.

The stone slab beneath the box glowed faintly, veins of amber light threading across the surface like lightning frozen in rock.

Kate stood slowly.

She spoke—not to Ryland, not to me.

But to the earth itself.

“It’s done.”

Ryland looked shaken now. Not angry.

Afraid.

“What did you do?” he whispered.

We didn’t answer.

Because the truth was—we didn’t know.

Only that it had been waiting to be sealed again.

And we had heard the call.