Chapter 3: The Buried Gate

The tracks belonged to a rival expedition led by a man named Voronov, whom Dara described with the specific kind of hatred reserved for former allies. 'He worked with my employer once,' she explained as they pushed the skiff harder across the dunes. 'Then he decided that loyalty was less profitable than betrayal. He has been searching for Meridian for five years, but without an active map he has been digging blind. Now he has our trail to follow.' They reached the location marked on the map at sunset on the fifth day. The desert floor here was different, the sand compacted into a surface as hard as concrete and marked with geometric patterns that only became visible as the light struck them at a low angle. At the center of the pattern stood a gate. It rose four meters from the ground, carved from a single block of stone so dark it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. There were no walls on either side. It was simply a freestanding doorway in the middle of an empty desert, and through its opening Khalil could see nothing but more sand. 'The map says we wait for moonrise,' he said, consulting the parchment as midnight approached and the silver lines brightened. Dara stood guard while Khalil studied the gate. Its surface was covered in the same script he had found on the scrolls, but these characters were larger, deeper, and arranged in concentric circles that spiraled inward toward a central symbol he did not recognize. When the moon crested the eastern dunes, the gate transformed. The dark stone began to emit a low hum, and the space within the frame shimmered like heat haze over hot asphalt. Through the distortion, Khalil glimpsed not sand but stone corridors lit by flickering amber light. 'It is a door,' he whispered. 'An actual door.' Behind them, across the moonlit dunes, he heard the distant growl of engines. Voronov was coming.