The earth beneath San Diego did not sleep as the world above believed, for within its buried veins and forgotten passages there lingered a life far older than the city itself, a restless existence that shifted in darkness where no light dared remain.
The tunnels stretched endlessly, carved not only by time but by something that had learned to live where others could not, their walls damp and cold, the air thick with decay and a silence that held no peace.
Deep within that shadowed maze stood Marcus Kane, his form still yet heavy with presence, his posture upright though the space around him seemed to bend subtly beneath his command.
His breath came slow, deliberate, his eyes half-lidded as though listening beyond sound, beyond sight, toward something far above that had begun to call without knowing it called.
"She's above us," he said.
His voice was low.
