Page 66 of Third

The terrain bucked beneath them as one last geyser exploded behind them, hurling a wave of dust and debris. It struck them midstride, knocking both off theirfeet.

Anya hit hard, rolled once, and came up gasping.

Tor’Vek grabbed her hand, dragged her to herfeet.

Together, they ran the final steps.

They collapsed against the base of the cliff, lungs burning, bodies scraped and bruised. Their shoulders touched. Their breathing staggered in sync. The bond clawed at the edges of restraint, wanting more than survival. It surged against the limits of control, wild and immediate, as if it sensed the nearness of safety and demanded a reward. Tor’Vek’s pulse pounded in his throat—not from exertion, but from the need drumming through him, hot and insistent. He clenched his fists, swallowing it back. Barely.

His gaze dipped to her mouth. Justonce.

Then he lookedaway.

They’d made it. Scarred. Breathless. Inches from unraveling.

Now the panel waited. And waiting was no longer an option.

Chapter16

TOR’VEK’S FINGERSflew over the embedded panel, wrist angled sharply as he accessed the encrypted controls with his rij. The wall remained solid. Unmoving.

Behind them, the valley roared.

Anya turned at the sound—ageyser had erupted not fifty meters away, acolumn of stone and fire launching into the sky. Asecond followed. Then a third. The earth shook with each eruption, and the air vibrated with a thunder that rattled her teeth. Sharp bits of rock peppered the ridge. If that panel didn’t open soon, they were going to be crushed.

“Tor’Vek!”

“It is locked!” he growled, eyes narrowing. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to. His jaw clenched, his fingers flying faster.

The next geyser erupted with a deafening crack, sending a boulder crashing into the ridge just meters behind them. Shards exploded outward, pelting their backs and shoulders with stinging impact. Anya cried out, ducking low, arms over her head. Tor’Vek stood firm, shielding her with his body. One more meter, and that rock would have crushed themboth.

Anya pressed a hand to the panel, useless but instinctive. The metal beneath her palm was hot, almost pulsing, as if reacting to their presence—or warning them away. It vibrated faintly, not from the geysers behind them, but from something within. It felt alive.

Her stomach twisted. “Please.”

The panel blinked.

Tor’Vek slammed his palm against it—once, twice. Then it hissed, seals releasing with a low, mechanical exhale.

Steam curled outward in slow, spiraling ribbons, thick and sulfuric, like breath drawn from the lungs of something old and dying. Outside, the valley still screamed—geysers howled, rocks cracked and slammed down in punishing waves. The valley heat had baked her skin, left her aching and half-delirious with fatigue.

In front of her, the air shifted. Not cool, exactly. Just heavier. Still. The kind of quiet that settled in graveyards. Just steps away, the silence felt surgical, too clean. The shift was jarring. It made her feel as if the storm had closed a door behind them, sealing them in with something far more precise. And far more patient. The heat of it kissed her cheeks and coated her tongue in mineral bitterness. Every instinct screamed at her not to enter.

Tor’Vek stepped forward first.

Snatching a deep breath, she rushed after him, nearly stumbling in her urgency. The geysers behind them were still erupting, and she could feel the vibrations chase her down the tunnel, echoing through the metal floor. She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t lookback.

She followed.

The corridor swallowed them immediately, asmooth, rounded tunnel of dark alloy veined with strange, pulsing seams. Their boots echoed too loud against the floor. The overhead lights flickered once—then failed. Darkness swallowed them, absolute and sudden. Anya’s breath caught, her hand shooting out to find Tor’Vek’s arm. Only the pulsing seams in the walls remained, casting the faintest crimson glow like veins in a sleeping beast.

“It appears untouched,” Tor’Vek said softly.

Anya frowned. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. The word should have comforted her—but it didn’t. Untouched could mean forgotten. Abandoned. Or worse... sealed. Not for protection, but containment. Her fingers curled reflexively against the nearest wall. Something about this place felt less like a corridor and more like a trap laid centuries ago that hadn’t yet been sprung.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out three small spheres, each no larger than a fruit pit. She blinked atthem.

“More weapons?”

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