POV RUBY
The water of the subterranean river was a freezing, sightless void that tasted of minerals and ancient death. When we finally breached the surface, miles downstream from the wreckage of the hunter, the air hit my lungs like a physical blow. It was crisp, thin, and smelled of pine and impending snow. We were somewhere in the jagged foothills of the Urals, two shadows crawling out of the mouth of a cave into a world that should have been silent.
But the world wasn't silent.
As Nevan dragged me onto the frozen mud of the riverbank, my vision didn't just clear—it exploded. The neural bridge, which had been quiet since the jump, suddenly roared back to life with a violence that made me scream. It wasn't just Nevan’s heartbeat I was feeling. It wasn't just the child’s rhythmic thrum.
