While the Ashbournes feasted under their glass domes, calling themselves gods of a rotting world—
deep below, another silence waited.
They had been walking for hours. Steel and dust and breath were the only things that still moved.
Then the corridor ended—two tall silver doors, sealed tight and marked with faded codes.
Adrian stopped. His chest tightened.
Something pressed through the metal from the other side—cold, heavy, alive.
It was like standing before a sleeping beast that could swallow them whole.
Marcus Hale shifted Noah Briggs's weight on his back; the Psionic's head hung low, eyes half open, unfocused.
Damian Cross and the others stood still, waiting.
Then Noah lifted his head. His voice was a breath.
"I hear it. It's warm… gentle… like a mother calling her child. Left. It's on the left. We need to go left."
The words sank into Adrian's bones like echoes from another life.
He didn't hear a mother. He heard something else entirely—something that knew his name.
Marcus stepped to the panel and pressed his palm against it.
A green line flared; the lock sighed open.
Air shifted—thicker, warmer, alive.
Adrian's instincts screamed. Left was danger.
He could feel it like needles under his skin.
But he said nothing.
Noah's voice still hung in the air, and the rest of the squad trusted him.
Marcus moved first. Caleb and Ethan followed. Damian lingered for one heartbeat, then nodded and went after them.
Adrian remained at the rear, watching the gap between the two doors.
From the right side came a different beat—soft and slow, warm like blood through veins.
It was calling to him.
He almost spoke. Almost told them to stop.
But he didn't.
He had lived his whole life on streets that devoured the honest.
Trust had never saved him; instinct had.
And that instinct was telling him that if he followed them left, he would die.
If he took the other path… he might finally win something the world had denied him since birth.
He let his knees buckle, pretending to stumble.
A cough tore from his throat—weak, convincing.
Damian turned immediately. "Adrian?"
Adrian forced a shaky breath. "Fine… just dizzy."
Marcus glanced back, eyes narrowing as he studied him.
"He's overexerted," he said quietly. "First awakening surge. He burned through more energy than his system can handle."
Ethan looked uncertain. "Should he stay outside?"
Marcus nodded once. "Yes. Let him stabilize here. No sense taking him into the field half-conscious."
Damian hesitated, jaw tight.
He knew what that meant—what it meant to leave someone alone in a place like this.
He reached for his belt, unclipped the small vial hanging there—their last bottle of nutrient solution.
He pressed it into Adrian's hand.
"Drink it. Rest here. We'll come back."
Damian presses the vial into Adrian's hand; the reader knows he's leaving him behind.