Chapter 37 Alina
Alina
Iwas so entranced by the ancient excavation site in Peru that I almost forgot I was pregnant. The arid breeze carried the scent of scorched earth and dust, while the midday sun spilled gold across the cracked ruins that surrounded us. Time felt warped here—ancient, sacred.
“Let’s call it a day,” Jack said, walking beside me.
I ignored him, scraping a garden trowel across the dirt, my focus laser-sharp on the spot before me.
“Nothing,” I muttered—weeks of digging and still nothing significant. My nerves were fraying. “Hand me the broom.”
Without looking up, I stretched out my hand.
Jack sighed, slipping off his backpack and rummaging through it before placing the whisk broom in my palm. Then, wordlessly, he slung the pack back onto his shoulder.
I swept the loosened dirt, squinting at the ground as if willing something—anything—to appear.
“Nothing. Nothing. Nothing!” I snapped. “Endless days of scraps and dust. If I don’t find something soon—if I go home empty-handed—I’ll… I’ll…” I trailed off, frustrated and breathless. “I don’t even know what I’ll do.”
Running a hand through my tangled, dust-caked hair, I turned to Jack, finally giving him my full attention.
He opened his mouth to speak.
But then I gasped.
A slicing pain tore through my abdomen. My hands flew to my belly as my knees buckled slightly.
“What is it?” Jack asked, his voice rising in alarm.
“Shit,” I gritted out, bracing myself against a nearby wall. “It’s nothing. Just—just a cramp.”
“Are you going into labor?” he asked, panic flaring in his eyes.
“I don’t think so,” I groaned, trying to breathe through the pain. “I’ve been having false labor all day.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? We need to leave. Now. You could be going into early labor—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jack,” I said with a forced, wry smile. “Braxton-Hicks. They’re normal in the second or third trimester. Just my body practicing. The baby’s not due for another month.”
But even as I rested my hand on my belly, the ruins stretching endlessly behind us, a single thought ran through my mind—
What if this wasn’t just a rehearsal?
Jack’s face turned ashen. “What if you go into labor out here? We’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, Alina. No signal, no roads, and our only connection to civilization is a dusty ham radio miles from the nearest village. What if it’s too late by the time we get help?”
Before I could answer, Omar—one of the excavation team members—came sprinting toward us from the cluster of white tents that served as our living quarters and makeshift office.
“Mrs. James!” he shouted, breathless. “Come quick!”
My pulse jumped. “What is it?”
“Moon Lee is trying to reach you on the ham radio.”
“Moon Lee?” I exchanged a glance with Jack. “Why? What does he want?”
“Follow me.”
Omar turned on his heel, and I lumbered after him, Jack right at my side.
We ducked into the largest tent. Omar flung back the flap and guided me toward a battered wooden desk. On top sat a small, buzzing ham radio. He grabbed the black receiver and pressed the call button. “Mr. Moon Lee, I have Alina here. One moment.”
A burst of static hissed through the air like a warning.
Omar pressed the receiver closer. “Mr. Lee, can you repeat that? The connection isn’t clear.”
Impatient, I snatched the receiver from his hand. “I’m here!” I shouted into the mic.
Another wave of ear-splitting feedback screeched through the speaker. I winced as the harsh noise tore through my eardrums—then finally, I heard it.
Lee’s voice. Low. Gruff. Faint and crackling.
“...my ancestors... ancient artifact... la Cueva del Fuego...”
That was all I could make out. The rest dissolved into static.
“Lee, I can’t hear you!” I pressed the receiver tighter, as if force alone could cut through the static. “Say that again!”
The radio hissed like a serpent whispering through the dark.
Jack rushed to grab a chair, guiding me down just as another garbled wave of sound sputtered from the speaker. Through the distortion, a phrase pierced the noise like a knife—
“Look for the dagger in La Cueva del Fuego...”
My body tensed. A tremor ran through me.
I repeated, “So I’m supposed to look for a dagger in the Cave of Fire?”
The connection buzzed, then sharpened slightly.
“Yes, yes!” Lee’s voice was urgent. “Look in La Cueva del Fuego. That is where you are to search!”
I surged to my feet, heart pounding. “Okay, okay! Thank you, Lee! Thank you!”
But before I could say more, the line erupted in a final burst of static, then silence. The connection was gone.
Still, one thing was clear—
We had to find La Cueva del Fuego. And we had to find the second dagger.
Outside the tent, the atmosphere had shifted. I could feel it—an electric chill in the air. Fragments of conversation drifted from the excavation team—“Solar eclipse...”… “Total darkness in a few hours.”
A shiver gripped me so violently, my teeth clacked together.
I spun toward Jack. “Is there going to be a solar eclipse today?”
He hesitated, avoiding my eyes. “Yes,” he muttered.
My voice rose. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
He threw up his hands, exasperated. “Because you’ve been moody and emotional this whole pregnancy—and if I even hinted that this might be the solar eclipse, the Eclipsarum Obscura, the one that could mark our baby’s birth as a Timeborne potentially—you would’ve lost it!”
I stared at him, stunned. “What?” I shrieked. “The Eclipsarum Obscura? The same mystical eclipse you mentioned in your dissertation? How do you know?”
His cheeks flushed. “I have my sources.”
“No.” My voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “I’m not having this baby today.”
I stormed toward the Jeep, adrenaline rising in waves.
“Let’s go.”
There was no way I was going into labor during the so-called Eclipsarum Obscura—the mystical solar eclipse Jack had theorized about for years. I wasn’t ready to prove him right. I wasn’t prepared for what that would mean.
I especially wasn’t ready to give birth to a Timeborne.
Clutching the map Omar had given me, I tried to breathe, to center myself. Stay calm. Don’t take it out on Jack. But the anxiety wouldn’t ease. If the Scholar showed up here, in the desolate wilds of Peru, he’d have a hundred places to hide my body. And no one would ever find me.
Jack approached the Jeep in silence, clearly wary of provoking another explosion.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted before he could speak. “I’m sorry, Jack. Sometimes I just can’t control it. I’m hot and miserable, and this baby is suffocating me from the inside out.”
I reached out and squeezed his hand.
His shoulders loosened slightly, and he gave me a cautious smile.
But before I could say more, another Braxton-Hicks contraction stabbed through me. I hissed and bent slightly, pressing a hand to my belly.
Jack’s eyes widened in alarm.
I shot him a look and held up my hand like a stop sign. “Not a word. This is normal.”
I gritted my teeth and rode it out in silence.
The drive was grueling. Jack didn’t speak. Neither did I.
We followed a jagged dirt road that eventually gave way to unmarked terrain. Dust clouded around us. I alternated between studying the map and scanning the landscape.
Finally, I pointed. “There. That ridge.”
The Jeep jolted up the incline, pitching side to side as it climbed the uneven ground. Jack maneuvered us between two towering boulders—massive, ancient things, weathered by time and looming like sentinels.
He threw the vehicle in park, grabbed his backpack, and slung it over his shoulders.
Without a word, we began the trek toward the cave.
The air between us was thick with unspoken tension—the kind that hung heavy and clung to your skin like humidity before a storm. Each step felt weighted, not just by the terrain, but by the weight of what we might find.
Above us, the sky began to dim—just barely—its edges paling into something unnatural. A shiver crept down my spine, the first true chill of dread settling deep in my bones.
Jack kept sneaking glances at his watch.
“What?” I snapped. “Are you timing something?”
He shook his head, too quickly.
“You’re counting the minutes until the eclipse, then.”
His silence was all the confirmation I needed.
My heartbeat quickened. “When does it happen?”
His voice was flat, clinical. “In just over an hour. The moon will pass between the sun and the Earth. Total darkness.”
Perfect.
And as if summoned by the words, another Braxton-Hicks seized my body. I doubled over slightly, breathing and trying to calm my frantic nerves.
Not yet. Just hold on a little longer. Not now.
We still needed to find the cave’s heart—whatever mystery lay hidden.
The further we descended, the more the cave swallowed us. Water dripped from jagged stalactites, echoing off the stone like a ticking clock. Each sound twisted into a whisper in the back of my mind, feeding the anxiety building beneath my skin.
I winced, gripping my side as another ripple of pain pulsed through me.
Jack turned, concern darkening his features.
I ignored it, pointing toward the pool glimmering faintly deeper in the cave. “There. Keep going.”
“I’ll follow,” he said, shrugging off his pack and retrieving the lantern.
The light flickered to life, dim and wan—as if it, too, feared what lay ahead.
As we moved further into the abyss, I realized something that struck me harder than the looming eclipse or the suffocating shadows—
The true terror wasn’t in the cave.
It was inside me.
This baby, this child I never wanted, might be born under the eclipse—a Timeborne.
And that thought filled me with more fear than any darkness ever could.
“Let’s go,” I said, steeling myself.
Jack nodded and led the way, the lantern’s dying glow our only shield against the ancient dark.
A shudder rippled through me as I stepped deeper into the cave—a place so damp and dark it felt untouched by time, utterly alien. The silence pressed against my ears, broken only by the slow water drip echoing through the stone.