Liliana took a slow breath.
The pressure near the cave was shifting.
Not like gravity.
More like the air itself was holding its breath.
She wasn't scared.
She'd seen worse.
But something in her gut tightened—a quiet, nagging feeling she couldn't explain.
The cold breeze that rolled out from the cave wasn't natural. It carried that scent again—wet stone, rust, and something older.
Something dead. But not decayed, but preserved, like a memory.
Her eyes stayed locked on the entrance, even as the drones floated back toward the surface.
Their scanning lights blinked as they returned, data streams syncing to the relay pads behind her.
She didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Behind her, the special unit made their final checks. There was no need to rush. These soldiers didn't need barking orders or rallying cries. They were used to operating in silence.
Efficient.
Trained.
Trusted.
