Leona sat at her desk for a long moment, staring at the closed amulet case. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the museum’s heating system. She exhaled slowly, then let out a dry laugh, shaking her head at herself.
This was ridiculous.
She had just given a major lecture in front of a packed auditorium, sparred with Dr. Stuart Marlowe’s usual brand of smug condescension, and then, to top it all off, been approached by a mysterious Russian operative who claimed an ancient ruin had appeared out of nowhere, covered in patterns she had spent her entire career studying. And now, as the cherry on top of her already bizarre evening, she was apparently seeing and hearing things from a chunk of carved emerald.
Maybe she was just overtired.
Or maybe she was being set up.
The thought struck her suddenly, curling around the edges of her mind like a shadow she hadn’t noticed creeping in. What if this was some kind of elaborate hoax? Marlowe would love nothing more than to see her discredited, to have her chasing after some fantastical story only to be humiliated when it turned out to be a trick.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, fingers drumming lightly against the wood. It was possible, wasn’t it? The amulet could be nothing more than an elaborate illusion. A hidden projector, some sort of pre-programmed image designed to appear only under specific conditions. A parlor trick meant to make a fool out of her.
But the voice.
That voice hadn’t been artificial. It hadn’t been hollow or distorted like a recording. It had curled into her thoughts, deep and resonant, filled with something she couldn’t quite name. Recognition. Longing. Power.
She glanced at the case again.
No. She wasn’t going to sit here all night debating with herself. She needed answers, not speculation.
Leona stood, smoothing down the front of her blouse as if that would settle the unease crawling up her spine. If this was a trick, she would find out. And if it wasn’t…
Well.
She didn’t know what that meant yet.
She grabbed her bag and slipped the case inside, then shrugged on her coat. She’d take it home, set up her equipment, and analyze the damn thing properly. No more letting her imagination run wild. No more indulging in paranoia.
Just science. Just facts.
As she flipped off the light and stepped into the hallway, the faintest pulse of warmth seemed to thrum from the bag at her side.
She ignored it.
Outside, the city awaited.
And somewhere, she had the unsettling feeling, so did something else.
***
Ivan Sabitov shut the door to his suite at the Plaza Hotel, exhaling as he loosened his tie. The luxurious room was wasted on him. He wasn’t here to enjoy fine accommodations. He strode across the room, pouring himself a glass of vodka from the minibar before settling into the chair by the window. The city lights stretched below, shimmering against the darkness.
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He pulled out his secure phone and dialed. It rang twice before a clipped voice answered.
“Stepanovich.”
“I made contact with Dr. Cavendish,” Ivan said, leaning back in his chair. “She was skeptical, but I left the amulet with her. Her curiosity will win out. I expect she’ll call within the next 24 to 48 hours.”
A beat of silence. Then, a satisfied hum from the other end of the line. “Good. I had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to resist.”
Ivan swirled the vodka in his glass, watching the liquid catch the light. “How are things on your end?”
Stepanovich exhaled, his voice lowering. “Volkov and his team are still stationed at the site. Every day, they go in. Every day, the place shifts. Rooms appear and disappear. Staircases lead somewhere new, or nowhere at all. The castle does not want to be mapped.”
Ivan frowned, rubbing his temple. “Still no inhabitants?”
“None that we can confirm,” Stepanovich said, his tone turning grim. “But there is something there.”
Ivan sat up slightly, listening.
“At first, we thought it was an illusion. A trick of the shadows,” Stepanovich continued. “But it isn’t. There is something. A presence. Like a man, but not a man. A corpse that still moves. A king without a kingdom.”
A chill ran down Ivan’s spine. “You’re telling me this thing is alive?”
Stepanovich scoffed. “I don’t know if ‘alive’ is the right word.” He hesitated, then continued. “It’s like he’s watching us. Studying us. Whenever we think we’re closing in, he’s already gone. He never attacks, never confronts. But we can feel him. There are moments when he’s close enough to touch, yet when we turn, there’s nothing but empty halls.”
Ivan let out a slow breath. “He’s toying with you.”
“Yes,” Stepanovich agreed. “Like a predator testing its prey.”
Silence stretched between them.
“We’ve increased our monitoring,” Stepanovich said at last. “More sensors around the perimeter. Energy readings. Seismic activity. Heat scans. Everything was stable until about an hour ago.”
Ivan’s grip tightened around his glass. “What happened?”
Stepanovich’s voice dropped to something nearly unreadable. “Every sensor we have went haywire. Spikes in energy output. Unstable tremors. It was as if the entire ruin was reacting to something.”
Ivan’s jaw tensed. “That is roughly the time I left the amulet with Leona.”
Stepanovich went quiet for a moment before speaking again, his voice sharper than before. “Hurry back, Sabitov. No delays.”
Ivan ended the call and set the phone aside, staring out at the city lights beyond the window.
***
Leona unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The familiar scent of old paper and a hint of vanilla greeted her. She slipped off her heels and padded across the hardwood floors, flicking on the warm glow of a stained-glass lamp.
Her home was as much a reflection of her mind as her office. It was organized chaos with a touch of elegance. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with ancient texts, research notes, and first editions. Artifacts from her travels filled the spaces in between: a carved figurine from Mesopotamia, an Egyptian scarab amulet, a set of delicate bronze rings from the Indus Valley. A well-worn leather armchair sat in the corner by the window, a cozy reading nook she rarely used because she was always working.
As she walked further in, a soft meow greeted her. Cleo, her fluffy black Persian, stretched lazily from her perch atop the massive oak desk.
"Did you miss me?" Leona murmured, scratching under the cat’s chin. Cleo purred, blinking up at her with knowing golden eyes.
Leona placed her bag on the desk and hesitated before pulling out the amulet. The green stone shimmered in the light, its patterns seeming even more intricate now that she had time to study them. She set the amulet against a stack of books, positioning it so she could keep an eye on it while she worked. Then, grabbing her sketchbook, she began to trace the patterns onto a fresh page.
As her pencil moved across the paper, she frowned. The patterns were familiar, but something about them was off. She flipped through her notes, cross-referencing, trying to place where she had seen similar carvings.
“None of this makes sense,” she muttered, glancing at Cleo, who had repositioned herself to watch the amulet as well.
She glanced back at the stone. It was still, lifeless, as any artifact should be. And yet, the longer she worked, the more she felt it, the uncanny sensation of being watched. She told herself it was exhaustion. Her day had been long, her lecture draining. Meeting Ivan had set her on edge and she had let her imagination run wild.
Still, she couldn’t help but steal glances at it between her notes, half expecting and half hoping the illusion of the man would return. But all remained quiet.