The stairwell beneath the wall slit descended steeply, carved not into stone, but through layers of that same white composite material—part ceramic, part something entirely alien.
Jace led the way, a pistol-shaped light in one hand, the other brushing the curved walls for balance. Every few steps, he glanced back at Brian and Elsbeth, both silent, both wide-eyed with fear and fascination.
As they moved deeper, the stairwell opened into a circular chamber—walls lined with curved recesses and shallow grooves that glowed faintly blue when touched.
"What is this place?" Brian breathed.
Elsbeth walked slowly along the edge, fingers trailing across the symbols etched into the walls.
"It's not a vault," she whispered. "It's... a gateway."
Jace stepped to the center of the room. Beneath his boots was a plate of darkened glass. He crouched.
"Something below this," he muttered. "Looks like an elevator pad."
He stood and turned just as Brian accidentally triggered a panel.
A hum ignited beneath their feet.
The floor shifted.
"Uh... Jace?" Brian said, stumbling.
The entire room dropped—smoothly, silently—descending into the unknown.
Jace held his breath.
Twenty seconds later, the platform slowed and stopped. The wall ahead slid open with a gentle hiss.
What lay beyond was unlike anything they'd imagined.
A vast, open gallery stretched out before them, rimmed by elegant columns that reached toward a ceiling laced with faintly glowing symbols. In the center, atop a raised platform, hovered a structure—egg-shaped, pulsing softly with internal light. Like it was sleeping.
"Is that... tech?" Brian asked.
"I think it's alive," Elsbeth whispered.
They stepped forward carefully, the faint sound of their boots echoing.
Then Jace froze.
Behind them, the lift platform retreated into the ceiling. The wall sealed shut.
"We're locked in," he growled.
And somewhere, in the depths of the chamber, a sound like whispering wind began to rise.