The air outside Shamballa was thin, sharp with mountain chill, but the Dutchman barely felt it as he staggered through the snow-choked pass. His ribs ached from the blow Arthur Carey had dealt him, and blood still stained the corner of his lip. Yet his mind burned with a feverish fire: he had seen it.
Shamballa was real.
The world’s greatest secret, whispered only in legend and myth, had opened its gates to him. The glowing cities, the otherworldly beings, the divine relics—there was no doubt. His mission, once burdened with uncertainty, had transformed into destiny.
He slipped behind a boulder where his satchel had been hidden. With trembling hands, he withdrew a small brass device no larger than a pocket watch. A League communicator, its face engraved with strange sigils. When he pres
