The transport cut through the gray afternoon sky, its engines humming with a steady, rhythmic pulse that seemed to vibrate through James's bones.
He sat in the dimly lit cabin, his eyes fixed on the documents spread across the table before him. The Shepherd's files had led them to a location that wasn't on any map—a facility buried deep in the mountains, hidden from satellite imagery and civilian records. It was the kind of place where secrets could be buried forever, lost to time and memory.
Dr. Cross sat beside him, her face pale, her eyes distant. "I've heard rumors about this place," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The original architect called it 'The Vault.' They said it contained the sum total of their work. Everything they ever created, everything they ever learned."
