Chapter 115

Chapter One Hundred Fifteen

When Mosiah had talked about an underground crypt or vault that he and his people had plundered for the relics, Connor had expected something big—maybe a hundred meters on either side.

That barely encompassed the chamber they’d descended into.

Deep underground now, surrounded by—the place didn’t give the impression of a tomb or vault so much as a prison with its thick walls. Certainly, the sulfuric smell was overpowering, trapped by the design of the place.

Coolness was trapped, too. It wasn’t just cooler than aboveground but cold.

Mosiah took the lead, eyes squinting to dredge up old memories. His voice rasped and bounced around the cavernous ceiling as he recalled details.

At first, he led them along narrow pathways, some with smooth walls, others with niches.

Selen hung close behind Mosiah, always focused on the way ahead.

She didn’t pay any attention to the inexplicable, alien architecture.