Infiltration of the Granite Flume

In the freezing, mist-veiled darkness of 0245 hours, the abandoned granite quarry north of the Silverpine Citadel felt like the edge of the world. A biting northern wind whistled through the jagged hollows of Mount Si, whipping dense plumes of glacial fog across the cracked asphalt staging area. Towering sheer cliffs of dark metamorphic rock loomed hundreds of feet into the starless sky, swallowing sound and casting an impenetrable cloak…