Chapter Eight
The skimmer touched down in silence on a patch of flattened stone just outside the base of the mountain. Gemma’s pulse raced; her heartbeat thumped wildly in her ears. This was where she’d at last find answers.
She stepped out of the skimmer first. Her boots crunched against the crimson surface as she ambled toward a yawning gap in the rock face, where the entrance to the temple had been carved into Reva’s stone.
The arch of the double doors looked almost regal, half-swallowed by shadow at this time of night, as if the mountain itself had tried to reclaim it.
Ornate carvings wrapped around the doorframe, none of which she recognized.
The last time she’d been here, something inside her had demanded she leave, and Hawk had barely gotten the doors open before she’d had a complete meltdown.
She remembered them being massive, but not like this.
They were as wondrous as they were terrifying.
“Let’s go,” the Kaizen said, brushing past her like she didn’t care if Gemma followed.
“Don’t mind my sister’s prickly nature.” Gunner motioned for Gemma to enter before him. “She’s always been a vicious beast.”
The humor didn’t settle the churning in her gut. What would happen when she stepped through those doors? Would she panic again? Would she lose control?
Would she die?
Gunner pressed gently between Gemma’s shoulder blades, nudging her forward. “You look terrified. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. The implant won’t fail that quickly.”
That quickly? Was that supposed to make her feel more confident?
She took a deep breath, tightened her grip on the strap of her backsack, and stepped inside.
Her mouth gaped the moment her eyes adjusted to the diminished light.
She’d carried with her a fine sense of wonder from the last time she was here, but she didn’t remember this level of beauty.
The vaulted ceiling stretched up into nothingness, a galaxy map glowing across its expanse—stars, nebulae, even shifting constellations drawn in light.
They were identical to the ones she’d studied in her childhood lessons, and yet . . . older, somehow.
They walked further into the corridor, and an ethereal light bathed the space in an unearthly glow, casting long shadows against the red, polished floor. And in the very center of the chamber stood a statue—the statue.
Now this she remembered. Humanoid but not, with battle armor and a two-pronged spear.
Its eyes were too large and wide apart, and there were four slits where ears should have been.
It was here, standing next to this statue, when she’d been overwhelmed by the instinct to flee. Why didn’t she feel it now?
Gemma moved toward the statue slowly, clutching her chest. She scanned the slitted ears, the elongated skull, the broad chest encased in armor.
The spear gleamed under the soft starlight from above, as if even stone couldn’t hide the weapon’s intent.
The longer Gemma looked, the harder it became to convince herself that she wasn’t somehow connected to it.
“Come on,” Gunner said behind her, gently but firmly. “Everyone’s in the chamber just ahead.”
Gemma blinked and stepped back from the statue. Her pulse steadied, but something beneath her skin still felt off kilter, like a compass trying to right itself.
She followed Gunner up a short flight of stairs and into a narrow tunnel that curled into the mountain.
The last time she’d been in here, Christian had a broken arm and only tiny torchlights on their vests had illuminated the tight space.
This time, dim ultralights hung along the ceiling, causing her shadow to dance with every step.
She and Gunner passed through the barricade that Imara, Hawk, and Colton had revealed, and Gemma froze.
Spread throughout the maze of red stone, all smooth and fitted together like the interior of a great living heart, were people: scientists, doctors, archaeologists, lore specialists.
Most were crouched beside the walls, scanning glyphs and muttering observations.
A few stood in quiet conversation near portable analysis tables as pale purple and orange light spilled from the galaxy ceiling above.
Electroglass screens stood beside some of them, displaying anatomical diagrams, linguistic trees, and genetic overlays.
Every single person stopped the moment they noticed her. Gemma felt the subtle shift in the air. She was no longer a curiosity—she was the case.
One woman in a white field coat turned to face her.
It was Doctor Manae, the scientist who’d been the first to study Gemma’s lab and test results.
She whispered something to the man beside her before tucking her electropad against her chest and approaching Gemma.
Her expression was composed, but her eyes flicked across Gemma’s frame like she was looking for proof of something only she could see.
“Hello, Gemma,” she said at last, a delicate smile rising on her face. “It’s good to see you again.”
Gemma smiled. “What do you need me to do?”
The doctor gave a small, approving hum and glanced toward one of the other specialists. “You’ll want to speak with Doctor Liebher. He’s overseeing this . . . excavation. He’ll be able to direct you.”
Gemma nodded, every muscle in her body tensing. Stars, this is really happening.
As Gemma approached Doctor Liebher, she couldn’t help but assess him.
He had a shock of wiry, white hair, and his coat was several sizes too large.
Pouches hung from his belt in organized chaos, and some type of scanner dangled from one hand, swinging as he rubbed his chin in contemplation.
The moment he spotted Gemma walking toward him, he flapped his arms and marched toward her.
His boots scuffed against the stone, and she froze in place.
“It’s about time,” he said. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come on, come on. I need you to tell me where the orb was.”
Gemma blinked. “Excuse me?”
“The orb,” he snapped, gesturing vaguely at the maze behind him. “Glowing, spherical, the ancient artifact that rewrote your DNA. Ring any bells?”
Her hands clenched into fists, but Doctor Liebher either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He hurried toward a corridor, continuing to speak.
“You’d said you touched a glowing orb, but it must’ve stopped glowing shortly thereafter.
And we can’t find the blasted imprint.” He stopped at a junction where several carved paths converged beneath a domed ceiling of orange light.
“You touched it. Your memory might still hold the spatial location. So”—he turned on his heel, flinging his arms wide—“where?”
The chamber suddenly felt hotter, closer. The carved walls around her loomed with silent expectation.
“I—I don’t know,” she mumbled.
“You do know. You’re just refusing to dig for it. All elements give off a trace of energy. We simply can’t isolate it. But that same energy is in you, kid. So, I’ll ask again. Where?”
Gemma clenched her jaw. This man was insufferable.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll try.”
“You better do more than try, or we’ll be here for weeks.”
Her nostrils flared as she stepped past Doctor Liebher, her boots quiet against the stone. The soft light from above shimmered across the curved walls like liquid starlight, pooling in corners and catching on carvings.
The maze unfolded around her as she traipsed through the gentle, winding turns. Gemma trailed her fingers across glyphs on the crimson stone pillars—a story in fragments. A warning, maybe. A tale of a forgotten race and the large eyes that seemed to follow them everywhere.
When she reached a dead end, she turned in a slow circle, her gaze scanning the stone for something—anything—that might trigger a memory.
But there was nothing. Everything looked too similar to tell apart.
“We weren’t far from the tunnel when I touched it,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. “I think . . .”
Doctor Liebher made an impatient sound behind her. “Think is useless. You need to remember. The site’s too large to scan centimeter by centimeter.”
“I said I’m trying,” Gemma snapped.
She kept walking, her cheeks hot with embarrassment and anger. What did he expect her to do? Slam her head against one of the pillars to knock a memory loose?
She rounded a corner into a small inlet—and stopped.
A chill ran down her spine. Several chalice-shaped pillars stood near multiple doorless gateways filled with glittery, purple light. This was where she’d awoken. She was sure of it.
Gemma shuffled forward, her eyes never leaving the pillar in the middle. The air shifted around her, almost like the stone was listening. When she was mere feet away, she reached out a hand toward it—
Her breath caught as a shock raced down her spine, cold as ice and sharp as a blade. She winced at the pain, her vision blurring.
“It was here,” she said. “This was it.”
Doctor Liebher was beside her in seconds, already scanning the stone sphere. “No heat trace. No radiation spike. But . . .” His eyebrows pinched. “The molecular compression is a bit different.”
“What does that mean?” Gemma asked when the doctor seemed to fall into a trail of thought.
“It means it likely experienced a localized energy field.”
She stared at him. “I still don’t get it.”
The man sighed a loud breath. “The energy given off by the molecules—I assume you know what those are—warped the stone at a structural level. You don’t get that from time or weather. You get that from power.”
“Because I touched it,” Gemma said.
“Maybe . . .” He tapped his chin. “Or maybe because it touched you back.”
Gemma stared at him as the weight of those words set in.
A prickling heat rose beneath her skin, fast and acidic.
Her hands, clenched unconsciously at her sides, trembled.
She wanted to laugh or scream or run. Instead, she just stood there, blinking too fast, her throat thickening as her heartbeat clambered in her ears.
That wasn’t how it had happened. She’d reached for the orb. She’d made the choice . . . hadn’t she? The memory was fractured, blurred around the edges. She remembered the carvings, the light, the pain. Freezing pain. Something searing and alive.
It hadn’t let her touch it.
It had asked her to.
She wrapped her arms around herself as her stomach twisted, bile creeping up her throat.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I just remember . . . I thought it was me touching it.”
Doctor Liebher didn’t even look up from his scanner. “Mm. Fascinating.” He raised his voice. “Manae! Eddings! Bring the isotope panel and the molecular filters. We’ve got a site to match.”
Gemma’s head snapped toward him, but he was already crouched near the chalice, rattling off commands like she wasn’t even there.
A handful of scientists rushed over with portable equipment, slipping past her without so much as a glance.
One of them bumped her shoulder and muttered a half-hearted apology, more focused on the data unfolding from their electropad.
“Baseline does match the energy profile in her blood,” one of them said.
“I want this whole radius scanned. See if it left a signature imprint in the surrounding lattice,” Doctor Liebher instructed.
Gemma stepped back, her breath catching. She was still trying to process what it meant—that the orb had touched her, chosen her, altered her—and they were already moving on.
Gunner approached her slowly, his expression unreadable. “You okay?”
Gemma didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. Her chest felt too tight, her skin too hot.
They were already studying the stone. Soon, they’d be studying her.