The staircase narrowed the deeper they went, as if the earth itself didn't want them to pass. The walls were smooth, not carved—grown. Mike ran his fingers across them; they felt almost... warm.
Adam broke the silence.
"Dad… it's humming louder."
Mike turned. Adam's eyes were glassy, unfocused—like he was hearing a language only he could understand.
He squeezed his son's shoulder. "We stop the moment it gets too much."
Adam shook his head. "No. It's like... it's guiding me."
A few more steps—then the staircase ended. Not with a wall, not with a door.
But with emptiness.
Before them stretched a massive cavern, wider than any stadium Mike had ever seen. A city slumbered inside it. Monolithic towers carved into obsidian pillars. Streets paved with shimmering green stone. Colossal statues of gods—not the ones from history books, but older, alien, wrong. Eyes shaped like serpents. Limbs coiled like vines.
But it was silent.
Dead.
Until something moved.
A shimmer, like heat over asphalt, passed through the air. Lights ignited slowly across the buildings—no flames, no bulbs—just a soft golden pulse, like the heartbeat of a sleeping god.
Adam gasped. "It's awake…"
Mike whispered, "It's responding to you."
Suddenly, a platform at the center of the square rose from the ground with a low, grinding moan. Upon it—an altar. Not made of stone. But bone.
And on it… another scarab. This one glowing faintly. Buzzing.
Adam stepped forward as if pulled.
Mike grabbed his arm. "Wait—"
Too late.
The moment Adam's foot touched the black tiles of the square, the ground lit up beneath him—lines of light racing out like veins in all directions.
The statues opened their eyes.
Their stone mouths didn't move, but a voice boomed across the chamber:
"The Heir has returned. The test begins."
The doors of the city slammed shut behind them.
No turning back!