The vault's door had moved less than an inch barely enough to notice but the moment it did, something slipped through.
It wasn't air or light. It was sound.
A voice low, melodic, intimate spoke her name.
Elena froze. Marcus stepped in front of her before she could respond, one arm slightly extended, his entire posture sharpened like a drawn blade.
"You hear that?" she whispered.
His jaw flexed once. "I hear it. And it's not supposed to be possible."
The voice came again, stronger now, threaded through with warmth. It was the kind of tone that could pull you apart without ever raising its volume.
Something about it reached straight into her chest.
Her heart thudded. She knew that voice.
She stepped forward before she realized she was moving, but Marcus's arm shot out like a barrier. "Don't."
"I need to see…"
"You won't like the answer," he cut in. His voice wasn't sharp, but it carried a weight that rooted her to the stone.
The light spilling through the narrow opening was no ordinary glow. It rippled unnaturally, bending the space behind it in ways her eyes couldn't track.
Then the voice whispered again, and her pulse spiked. Recognition hit her like cold water.
Her mother.
Marcus swore under his breath, almost too quietly to catch. "It's trying to get you to open it. That's how it works. It knows what matters to you."
Her throat tightened. "Or maybe she's really in there."
Marcus's eyes found hers steady, unflinching. "If she is, then you have to ask yourself one question. How did she get there before you even touched the door?"
The hum beneath their feet deepened into something alive. And then, with a sound like stone under impossible pressure, the vault door shifted a fraction wider.