The relic wouldn't stop humming.
Selene wrapped it in three layers of canvas and shoved it into the old satchel, but
even then, she could feel its pulse against her thigh — steady, unnatural, like a
second heartbeat. The storm had calmed to a brooding drizzle, the sea sullen and
gray, but every instinct screamed that the worst was still coming.
And she wasn't wrong.
She knew exactly where she had to go.
The only person alive who might know what this thing was, and what to do about it,
lived in the crumbling edges of the old city — an exiled historian named Ezra Corin.
The man was half legend himself. Once a brilliant academic, now a paranoid recluse
who muttered about drowned cities and things that spoke in forgotten tongues.
Everyone thought he was insane.
Selene wasn't so sure anymore.
She found him at the end of a narrow alley, his weather-beaten shack leaning like it
might collapse in the next hard wind. A rusted bell clanged as she pushed the door
open.
The air inside stank of ink, old leather, and salt.Ezra looked up from a cluttered desk. His face was a map of deep lines and old scars,
his hair long and gray. But his eyes — they were sharp. Too sharp.
"You shouldn't have brought it here," he said before she even spoke.
Selene froze.
"You know about this?" she demanded, pulling the relic from the satchel. It glinted in
the flickering light, the symbols shifting like restless shadows.
Ezra flinched as if she'd drawn a knife. "Put that away," he hissed. "Do you have any
idea what you've done?"
"I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
Lightning flared, rattling the windows. The relic thrummed louder.
Ezra swore under his breath. "It's awake."
Selene stepped closer. "What is it?"
He leaned back, gaze never leaving the disc. "It's called The Heart of Nyumbara. A
key. A prison lock. A curse. It was crafted to seal away something ancient, something
meant to stay forgotten."
"What kind of something?"
Ezra met her eyes, and for the first time, Selene saw genuine fear.
"A god."
The word hung in the air, thick and cold.
"Not one you'd find in any temple. Older. Hungrier. A being the old ones worshipped
before the seas claimed them. It demands sacrifice. Blood. And when it's free… it will
drown the world."
Selene's throat tightened.
"I didn't release it."
Ezra gave a grim, humorless smile. "You didn't have to. Just touching the relic wakes
the children of Nyumbara. They're coming for you, Selene Kai. And they won't stop.
Not until the debt is paid."
As if on cue, a sharp knock struck the door.Once.
Twice.
Selene's blood turned to ice.
Ezra's hand shot to an old dagger beside his books. "Back room," he whispered.
"Now."
The knock came again, harder.
"I can handle this," he lied.
Selene hesitated only a moment before slipping into the darkness beyond. The last
thing she saw before the door shut was Ezra's face — weary, fierce, and resigned.
The knock became a heavy thud.
And the voice on the other side spoke.
"Return what was stolen, Ezra Corin… or drown with her.