The air changed the instant I crossed the archway. It was cooler still but heavy, as if it had weight. I could smell moisture, faint but metallic.
The passage narrowed to a tunnel where my footsteps no longer echoed. Instead, I heard my heartbeat, loud in my ears like the beating of great drums in tandem. Then I realized it wasn't just within me, there was another rhythm, deeper and slower, like the pulse of some massive creature buried beneath the rock and sand. It may be asleep but it was very much alive.
I knelt, pressing my palm to the ground. The pulse vibrated up my arm, and with it came a flood of images, sandstorms, bones bleaching in the sun, rivers of red water. The desert was alive. And now, it was looking straight at me. Assessing whether I was worthy to be there, worthy of its blessing. I unwaveringly looked back not daring or challenging but accepting, of all that it would throw at me.
