The statues watched them with stone eyes, glowing faintly, waiting.
But the city didn't move.
Not yet.
Adam stood still at the edge of the platform, breathing heavily. Sweat clung to his forehead, despite the air being cold—almost ancient.
His hands trembled.
Mike moved beside him, quietly.
"Adam…"
The boy didn't look at him.
His voice came low, barely a whisper.
"Why me?"
Mike hesitated. "What do you mean?"
Adam turned, eyes wet but unblinking.
"I didn't ask for this. I didn't want to come here. I just wanted you to—" He cut himself off, swallowed hard. "—to see me. Not as a... clue. Or a map. Or some key to your next obsession."
Mike's heart cracked at the edges.
"I never saw you that way," he said.
"Yes, you did," Adam replied. "Every time I got sick, you ran to your books. Every time I heard something weird, you pulled out a journal. Not once... not once did you ask me if I was scared."
Mike looked away. The words cut deeper than any curse.
"I thought I was protecting you," he said. "If I could understand it—if I could explain it—I could make it go away."
Adam stepped down from the platform. He was shaking, but his voice was steady now.
"I don't want it to go away. I just want you here. Not as a scientist. Not as a professor. Just… as my dad."
Mike finally looked at him.
The boy who stood in front of him wasn't just his son.
He was a door.
A symbol.
A miracle.
But more than anything… he was a scared kid, in the middle of a tomb that breathed.
Mike put a hand on his shoulder.
"No more theories. No more scrolls. Whatever's coming next… we face it together."
Adam nodded. The lights around them dimmed slightly—like the city itself had heard them.
For a brief moment, nothing moved.
Just a father.
And a son.
In the belly of forgotten gods.
Then the altar began to sink.
And the floor split open to reveal a new chamber beneath.
The First Test had begun.