The drainage tunnel emptied into a concrete culvert at the edge of Dead Harbor, its mouth half-submerged in the black water that lapped against the pilings of a derelict pier. The team emerged one by one, soaked and shivering, their breath misting in the cold air, their faces pale with exhaustion and the lingering shock of what they had just survived. Behind them, the tunnel was silent—Revenant lay motionless in the dark, its mask dark, its mission ended by a fragment of a key that Elias had carried for years without understanding its true purpose.
They carried Caleb between them, his body limp, his face ashen, his coat soaked through with blood. Elias had bound the wound with strips torn from his own shirt, but the bleeding had only slowed, not stopped. The knife wound from Margot's atta
