The heat in Cairo was a physical weight, pressing down like a damp wool blanket. Aryan, Nadia, and Rohan moved through the labyrinthine alleys of Khan el-Khalili, the air thick with spices, dust, and the low thrum of Cairo's unique leyline. Here, the energy wasn't fire or whispers or shadows; it was a deep, resonant vibration, the slow, grinding pulse of the earth itself. It made Aryan's teeth ache faintly, a constant reminder of the city's slumbering power.
Rohan led them, his broad shoulders tense. "The artifact clue from Kyoto," he rumbled, consulting a scrap of paper. "Points to the City of the Dead. Saqqara. Something buried near the Step Pyramid."
"Charming," Nadia muttered, fanning herself with a stolen tourist map. "Grave robbing in the desert heat. My favorite." She was still pale, the lingering effects of overusing the Whisper Command in Istanbul making her irritable.
They found Mei not in a tomb, but in a sun-drenched studio tucked away in a quieter corner of the bazaar. Canvases were stacked haphazardly, filled with chaotic, vibrant swirls of color and disturbing, recurring motifs: coiling serpents, fractured mirrors, eyes that seemed to follow the viewer. Mei herself was small, almost swallowed by an oversized paint-splattered smock. Her dark hair was a messy halo around a face dominated by large, haunted eyes. She was meticulously applying gold leaf to a canvas depicting a black serpent swallowing its own tail.
As they entered, Mei flinched violently, knocking over a jar of turpentine. The sharp scent filled the air. "Who… who sent you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes darting nervously between them, lingering longest on Rohan. "Are you… them?"
"Them?" Aryan asked gently, keeping his distance. He felt the leyline's vibration intensify slightly around Mei, like a tuning fork resonating.
"The shadows," Mei breathed, hugging herself. "The cold eyes. He watches. In the dreams." She gestured wildly at her paintings. "They get out sometimes. The shadows. They… move." A nearby stack of canvases trembled slightly. A small, discarded paintbrush skittered an inch across the floor.
Nadia exchanged a look with Aryan. Omen Walk. Uncontrolled, bleeding into reality. "We're not 'them,' Mei," Nadia said, her voice softer than usual. "We're like you. Different. And someone is watching. Someone dangerous. Vedant."
Mei gasped, the name striking her like a physical blow. "He calls me…" She trailed off, trembling violently. "He calls me Little Sister." Her eyes widened in pure terror. "He's coming. He's here!"
The studio door exploded inwards. Three of Vedant's agents burst in, clad in desert-camouflaged gear. No stealth this time. Pure, overwhelming force. One raised a device that pulsed with sickly green energy – Cairo's Earth Rite, weaponized. The stone floor beneath Rohan's feet cracked and buckled, trying to swallow him. Another agent fired a net of crackling energy towards Mei.
Rohan roared, a sound of pure defiance. He stomped his foot, channeling the leyline's vibration not into fire, but into pure, concussive force. A shockwave rippled out, shattering the stone net and throwing the energy-net agent off balance. But the third agent was already moving, a wicked-looking blade aimed at Mei's throat.
Aryan reacted instantly. He pulled the deep shadows from the corners of the studio, weaving them into a thick, tangible barrier between Mei and the blade. The agent's knife clanged uselessly against the shadow-shield. Nadia locked eyes with the agent who'd fired the energy net. "SLEEP!" she commanded, pouring her remaining strength into the Whisper. The agent crumpled.
But the first agent, recovering from Rohan's shockwave, aimed his pulsing device directly at Rohan's chest. "Stone!" he snarled. The green energy intensified, focusing like a drill. Rohan braced himself, crossing his arms. The energy struck him like a physical blow. He grunted in pain, stumbling back. Where the energy hit, his tough work shirt shredded, revealing skin that wasn't skin anymore. It was grey, mottled, and unnaturally hard – like weathered granite spreading across his pectoral muscle. Vajra Body. Activated by trauma, fueled by desperation.
"NO!" Mei screamed, seeing Rohan injured. Her terror exploded outward. The air in the studio warped. The shadows Aryan had summoned writhed and multiplied, detaching from walls and floor, forming a chaotic, shifting maze of grasping tendrils and indistinct, snarling shapes. The temperature plummeted. The agent with the device cried out as shadowy hands clawed at his face, disorienting him. The entire studio plunged into a terrifying, dream-like chaos.
Rohan, ignoring the spreading stone on his chest, grabbed Mei. "OUT! NOW!" He bull-rushed the door, smashing through the weakened frame, Aryan and Nadia close behind, shielded by Mei's nightmarish shadow-storm. They fled into the blinding Cairo sun, leaving the agents trapped and screaming within the labyrinth of Mei's fear.
They collapsed in a shaded alley blocks away. Mei was sobbing uncontrollably, curled into a ball. Rohan leaned against a wall, breathing heavily, staring at the patch of stone skin on his chest. He touched it gingerly. It felt cold, dead. Aryan saw the terror in his eyes – not of the agents, but of himself.
Nadia knelt beside Mei. "Hey. Hey, look at me. You saved us. That… that was incredible."
Mei looked up, her face streaked with tears and paint. "I didn't mean to… it just… happens. The dreams. They get out." She shuddered. "He's coming. Vedant. He won't stop. He wants me. He calls me Little Sister. Why?"
Rohan pushed himself off the wall, the stone patch catching the light. "Because you're powerful, Mei. More than you know. And dangerous to him." He looked at Aryan and Nadia, then down at his own transforming flesh. "We're all dangerous now. And Vedant won't rest until he controls us… or destroys us." The weight of his words hung heavy in the dusty air. The alliance had gained a terrified, immensely powerful member, and the cost of their power was becoming terrifyingly real.