They moved carefully through the remains of an ancient plaza, its symbols worn smooth by time and neglect. Cain recognized the geometry—not from memory, but from instinct. The kind of place designed to hold belief in place.
Hunter stopped beside a shattered plinth. "If this wakes up…"
"It won't," Cain said. "Not yet."
He looked ahead, toward where the ruins descended into darkness again. "But others will. And when they do, they'll look for resistance."
Roselle tightened her grip. "Then let's make sure they find it."
Cain nodded once and stepped forward, already feeling the world lean subtly against his path.
They descended into the dark as the ruins folded inward, stone giving way to metal and old masonry fusing with newer grafts of infrastructure. The air changed first—cooler, stale, threaded with a low vibration that settled into the bones. Cain felt it immediately. This wasn't dead ground. It was dormant.
