A dull glint caught my eye near the center of the chamber.
Half-buried beneath centuries of dust rested a field recorder.
It was bulky, military issue, its casing scarred with rust and deep scratches. One corner had been crushed inward as though something unimaginably heavy had stepped on it.
"It shouldn't still work," I whispered.
Damien crouched beside it.
"The batteries would've died decades ago."
Neither of us reached for it immediately.
The recorder sat in the dust like it had been waiting.
Then—
A tiny red light flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Steady.
Neither of us had touched it.
The tiny speaker crackled.
Static hissed through the chamber.
Long.
Thin.
Almost...
expectant.
Damien looked at me.
I gave the smallest nod.
He pressed PLAY.
The static grew louder before dis
