The mountain never slept.
Even at night, the valley vibrated with the growl of machines. Floodlights glared across scaffolds. Sparks hissed from welding torches. The scent of dust, oil, and raw earth hung heavy in the air.
We had carved tunnels branching from the heart chamber, each one reinforced with steel ribs and poured concrete. Water systems were being laid, airflow channels tested. The sanctuary was no longer just sketches on a desk.
It was real.
And every day it grew deeper, wider, stronger.
I walked the tunnels with Elara at my side, her boots crunching through the dust, her clipboard never leaving her hand. She pointed to supports, barked orders at crews, muttered calculations under her breath.
Her eyes were alive now in a way I hadn't seen when we first met. This wasn't just my dream anymore — it was hers too.
"This section," she said, gesturing at a vast chamber still half-carved, "will hold the first habitat. Forest biome. Variable humidity, controlled lighting, artificial dawn and dusk. Big enough for wolves, big cats, even ungulates if you want them. We'll pipe in filtered air from the fissures. Waterfalls for circulation. It'll breathe."
I stared at the rough stone walls, the scaffolds, the dust. I tried to see the forest she saw. Tried to imagine green where there was gray, life where there was steel.
And I could.
"Do it," I whispered.
Later, in the heart chamber, the workers cleared for the night. The floodlights hummed, echoing against the high stone ceiling. I stood alone, sketches spread across the table in front of me.
Not just the practical ones — not just the habitats Elara had signed off on.
The others.
Extinct. Mythical.
The mammoth. The thylacine. The leviathan. The phoenix.
I traced the lines with my fingertips. My throat ached, still raw from the surgery, but my voice had changed now. It wasn't just mine anymore. It carried something deeper. Something other.
I whispered into the empty chamber, my altered voice echoing strangely in the stone:
"You'll have a home here. All of you."
The sound carried through the cavern, reverberating like a promise.
For a moment, it felt like the mountain itself was listening.
Marcus found me hours later.
"You haven't slept," he said.
"I don't need sleep," I replied, eyes still on the sketches.
He frowned, his gaze flicking to the drawings. He picked one up — the phoenix, wings outstretched, flames sketched crudely in pencil. He raised an eyebrow.
"You really believe in this?"
I met his gaze. "Yes."
He studied me for a long time, then sighed, slipping the sketch back onto the table. "Then I guess I believe too."
Construction pressed forward. The above-ground tower began to rise — sleek glass, clean lines, the perfect disguise. To the outside world, it would be just another corporate expansion, another billionaire's monument to himself.
But beneath, the sanctuary grew.
Workers moved like veins through the tunnels, carrying steel and stone, wiring systems, pouring concrete. The cavern's pools were sealed and redirected into reservoirs. Elara oversaw every bolt, every measurement, her voice sharp and relentless.
And I moved among them — no longer just the heir of an empire, but something else. Something they couldn't name.
I spoke little, but when I did, my voice carried differently now. Not louder, not sharper — but deeper, resonant, enough to make heads turn. Enough to make people listen.
And sometimes, late at night, when the workers were gone and the machines silenced, I stood in the chamber and spoke to the stone. To the creatures waiting in sketches. To the ones waiting in the world.
They couldn't hear me yet.
But soon, they would.
The vow came quietly.
No ceremony, no audience. Just me, standing in the heart chamber with dust in my lungs and stone under my hands.
I pressed my palm against the wall, feeling its cool weight. My voice, still raw but strong, rose in the silence.
"I swear this will not be wasted. I swear this will not be another empire built on greed and power. This will not be his legacy. It will be mine.
Every creature I can save — every life I can protect — will find safety here.
No hunter. No trafficker. No shadow of my father will touch them.
This place will be alive.
Eternal.
The sanctuary below."
The words echoed through the chamber, bouncing back to me, folding over themselves until it felt like a chorus.
Not just my voice.
Something more.
Something answered.
When I left the chamber, dawn was breaking over the valley. The first light spilled across the ridges, painting the snowcaps gold, burning the mist away.
The workers stirred. Machines rumbled. Elara strode out of her tent, coffee in hand, already barking orders. Marcus lit another cigarette, scanning the treeline like he always did.
And me?
For the first time since my father's death, I didn't feel crushed beneath the weight he left behind.
I felt something else entirely.
A beginning.