The stairwell twisted downward into the spine of the earth—raw concrete and melted alloy fused together from some long-forgotten bombardment. Cain led the descent, torchlight cutting through the dust and mist. Behind him, the others followed in silence, their boots sinking into ash where the Grid's old conduits had burned out.
The hum below wasn't natural. It vibrated against bone, faint at first, then rising like a pulse—mechanical, but alive in its own rhythm.
Steve muttered, "This deep underground? The reactor network should be offline."
Hunter answered with a flat tone. "It's not power. It's resonance. Something's echoing through the empty lines."
Cain said nothing. He could feel it—an awareness brushing the edges of his senses, sharp and curious, like a predator testing a cage.
They reached the chamber.
