The hatch slammed shut above them with a dull clang, cutting off the last of the fading light.
Kazi descended first, one hand trailing the wall for balance, the other still tingling from the pulse of her mark. Each step echoed hollow through the metal stairwell, as if the space itself hadn't heard footsteps in years. Maybe decades.
A faint, coppery smell drifted upward from below, burnt metal, old wires, and something fainter beneath it. Like smoke filtered through stone.
The walls were tight, the air cold and unmoving. Etchings scorched into the concrete spiraled downward alongside them, each mark drawn with a jagged elegance, as if burned by something precise and deliberate. The same marks she'd seen in her apartment. And again in Luma's room.
"Keep your eyes sharp," Rhazir said from behind her. His voice carried no urgency, but it slid down the stairwell with a gravity that made her stomach clench.
"I am," Kazi replied. "I don't think this place wants us here."
"Good," Rhazir said. "That means it's real."
Dakarai was the last to descend. His boots clanged against the metal steps, his Volt Line mark flickering beneath his jacket sleeve. He held a pulse flare in one hand, the pale-blue glow casting distorted shadows on the walls.
The stairs finally ended at a circular chamber, once some kind of control room, now reduced to rot, debris and silence. Panels along the walls were cracked, their glass shattered inward. Dust choked the air, rising in swirls as they moved. Tangled cables lay like dead snakes across the floor.
In the center of the room stood a large circular platform. Not high, but wide; etched with concentric rings and unfamiliar runes. The air above it shimmered faintly.
"This is a gate," Rhazir murmured.
Kazi moved closer. The center of the platform was darker than the surrounding floor, not just in color, but in presence. Like it absorbed light instead of reflecting it. Her mark pulsed again, this time stronger. A low warmth spread up her arm and into her chest, not painful… but alert.
"I've seen this design before," she whispered. "In the dream Azibo gave me."
She knelt and pressed her palm against the edge of the platform. The mark on her arm flared.
In that moment, the room responded.
The runes lit up in a slow ripple, as if recognizing her touch. Dust swirled upward, forming ghost-thin tendrils that hovered in the air. The temperature dropped.
Then, the room shifted. Not physically, but perceptibly. Like the floor had become less real. Like something behind the veil had stepped closer.
"What did you do?" Dakarai asked.
"I didn't do anything," Kazi said, backing away.
Rhazir stepped forward and crouched beside the ring, eyes scanning the patterns. His fingers hovered just over the symbols, not quite touching. "This isn't just a gate. It's an imprint. A memory left behind by the resonance itself."
Kazi's voice was tight. "Can it be opened?"
Rhazir's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Yes. But not from this side."
There was a pause. Kazi stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
He stood slowly. "It means someone left this open. From the other side."
The pulse flare in Dakarai's hand flickered. For a moment, Kazi thought it had gone out, but she then realized something darker had crossed between them and the light.
The air had grown heavy. The shadows near the platform had begun to stretch, elongating like limbs in slow motion. One by one, they began to crawl inward, drawn to the platform's center like water to gravity.
Kazi stepped back. "Something's still here."
Rhazir didn't move.
And in that moment, for just a second, Kazi thought she saw something in his eyes.
Satisfaction.