A shockwave—a surge like lightning through his nervous system. Every nerve ending firing at once.
He didn’t know how, but heknew. The Windstone. Activating.
Calling. To him.
Emma.
The thought crystallized with absolute certainty. Emma was at the cave. Near the artifact. Something was happening.
He ran.
Full sprint through corridors, service halls, emergency exits. His combat boots pounded tile, concrete, then grass. Storm winds hit like a physical force—palm fronds whipping sideways, rain starting in heavy drops that felt like small stones.
Thunder cracked overhead. The sky churned black and green.
His body moved on pure instinct. The cave sat on the northern shore, two miles across the resort grounds. Rough terrain. Limited sight lines in the storm.
He pulled his phone, Emma’s contact, hit call. Straight to voicemail.
He tried again. Nothing.
The wind howled. Rain sheeted down in earnest now, soaking through his shirt in seconds. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the grounds in stark white flashes. His injured arm dripped blood, leaving a trail the rain washed away. His chest burned from thepull, the awareness of the artifact.
The pressure in his chest intensified. Not fading. Growing stronger. Like a rope tied around his sternum, yanking him forward. It didn't need to make sense.
Zach ran faster.
The terrain changed—manicured grounds giving way to wild jungle vegetation. Normally serene, it was now alive with the violence of the approaching storm. Branches whipped across his face. Mud sucked at his boots. Thunder rolled like artillery fire.
Zach’s breath came controlled despite the pace. Years of conditioning.
Lightning struck close. Twenty meters. The thunderclap hit—physical and immediate. Zach tasted ozone.
Through the rain and wind, he glimpsed the cave entrance. Dark mouth in the hillside, barely visible through the storm.
Zach pushed harder. The cut on his arm reopened, blood mixing with rain.
Another pulse from the artifact. Stronger. Violent.
This one drove him to his knees.
The sensation tore through him like a blade—recognition and rejection. Power, vast and ancient, examining him. Weighing him. Deciding.
His vision whited out. Returned.
He gasped. Forced himself upright. Forced his legs to move. Through mud. Through pain. He hit the entrance at full speed, dropping to roll into the cavern, knife in hand.
Darkness swallowed him. Not a speck of light in the outer chamber, nor a glow from the back. The wind cut off. The temperature dropped. Water dripped. And underneath?—
A hum. Low. Resonant. Power waiting.
Zach raised his knife and crept forward, following the tug in his chest.
Into the dark.
Toward whatever came next.
Chapter 34
