The original stood at the tunnel mouth, green fire leaking from the corners of his eyes. The cultists filled the passage behind him, their faces hidden, their weapons glinting with the same sick light. But Elias barely saw them. His gaze was locked on the man in front—the same face, the same scar, the same eyes that had haunted him since the rig.
"Get behind me," he said, his voice low. The children scrambled back, Ava and Becky pulling them toward the far wall. Jesus and Reyes moved to flank Elias, their improvised weapons raised.
The original smiled. It was a terrible thing, that smile—cold and empty, like a crack in ice. "You found it. The vessel. I wondered if you would."
"It's not yours," Elias said. "And it's not mine either."
"Oh, but it is." The original stepped forward, his bo
