Cold stone accepted his bare feet without complaint.
He walked the length of the hidden chamber as if measuring it for the last time. Dust rose in thin sheets where his passage disturbed the air. The place had been sealed longer than most pantheons had existed. Even the walls remembered silence better than sound. At the far end, half-swallowed by the rock, the doorway waited.
It was not a door in any mortal sense. It was a wound that had been forced shut and then forgotten. Layers of old law still clung to it — brittle, faded, but stubborn. He rested one hand against the surface and felt the resistance push back. The golden core inside his chest answered with a slow, hungry pulse.
"You held longer than I expected," he said quietly.
