The ground didn’t stop trembling. It grew worse. Stronger. Closer. Lyra’s breath hitched as the vibration traveled up through her legs, into her chest, settling like a warning deep in her bones. This wasn’t just movement. It was awakening. “They’re waking up,” the man had said. Her fingers curled instinctively at her sides. “What do you mean the rest of them?” she demanded, her voice sharper now, fear tightening every word. The man didn’t answer immediately. He was listening. Not to her. To the ground. To the shift beneath them. Then—slowly— His gaze lifted back to hers. “They were never gone,” he said. That didn’t help. At all. Lyra took a step back, her pulse racing faster now. “What are they?” Another rumble. Louder. Closer. Cracks began to form along the stone floor—thin at first, then spreading outward like fractures in glass. Dust lifted into the air, the ancient markings along the walls flickering violently. Her mark flared.
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