The voice of the First Mind was not a sound. It was a pressure that filled the chamber like water, pressing against Elias's skull, making his teeth ache. The children flinched. Lyra's shield flickered, and Isaac grabbed her hand, steadying her. The adults raised their weapons—Jesus with the harpoon, Reyes with a flare, Ava with a knife she'd claimed from the waypoint. But Elias knew none of it would matter. This was not a battle of bullets.
The First Mind hung in the center of the temple, a column of churning darkness studded with a hundred green eyes. Each eye moved independently, blinking at different times, and each one seemed to see a different part of Elias. His face. His memories. His doubts. The eyes peeled him open without a single touch.
You are smaller than I expected, the Firs
