Page 3 of Echoes of Fire

Her exasperated groan faded behind me as I slipped into the gloom, my boots crunching over gravel that shimmered with flecks of pyrite. The air grew cooler, drier—climate zones segmented by airflow, my mind catalogued. A low, resonant chanting vibrated through the stone, harmonizing with the distant rush of the underground river.

I paused, pressing my palm to the wall again. The vibrations sharpened, resolving into a melody that raised the hair on my neck.

Somewhere ahead, the Drakarn weresinging.

My bruised ribs protested as I quickened my pace, but I ignored them. The scientists who’d laughed at my proposals for Martian biodomes hadn’t understood this thirst either—the need tosee, to map the uncharted edges where theory bled into wonder.

Volcaryth’s secrets tempted every part of me, and I’d unravel them one layer at a time.

The chanting thickened like honey, each harmonic layering until the air seemed to vibrate with intent. I followed the sound through a narrowing passage, my boots scuffing against stone worn smooth by centuries of footsteps.

The fungi there glowed cobalt instead of orange, their light catching on glyphs carved into the walls—angular, urgent slashes that my translator couldn’t parse. With my subdermal translator I could understand spoken text, but I’d have to learn to read their language the old-fashioned way.

I paused to sketch them, noting how the symbols clustered near ventilation shafts. A prayer? Warning markers? My pencil hovered.

Unknown semantic function. Further study required.

A gust of superheated air rushed from an overhead shaft, carrying the acrid tang of sulfur and something sweeter—burnt amber resin, maybe. My fading purple braid stuck to the sweat-dampened collar of my shirt as I climbed a spiral ramp, each step sending dull fire through my healing ribs.Idiot. Should’ve taken Selene’s painkillers.But pharmaceuticals fogged observation, and I needed every synapse sharp.

The ramp ended at a wall about ten feet high. I didn’t see a door or any of the chanting Drakarn. At this point, a normal person would have turned away, or maybe just stood to listen.

They didn’t have my drive.

Or my climbing skills.

It was one of those things I’d done for fun back on Earth, the precision and risk focusing my mind until all that mattered was the next handhold, the next summit. And ten feet? That was nothing.

I was halfway up the wall before I wondered if this was,perhaps,not the smartest move. My side protested every stretch, and my vision was a bit hazy around the edges again. I wouldn’t say no to Selene’s canteen, but she’d taken it with her.

Maybe the wall was there for a reason.

But I was already halfway up, and the chanting was growing more intense. I just wanted a peek.

The wall ended in a broad walkway that looked out over an amphitheater full of Drakarn. My eyes had to adjust to the eerie twilight. Below me stretched terraces, concentric rings descending toward a central dais where obsidian monoliths speared upward like shattered teeth.

Dozens of Drakarn knelt between them, their winged backs rippling in unison as the chant reached its peak. My breath caught.

I crouched behind a pillar, journal open to a fresh page. The warriors’ tails flicked as they moved, their wing membranes tautwith precision. Two figures emerged from the shadows—a male with onyx scales threaded with gold, a female who wore a beaded crimson headdress that trembled with each step. They circled the dais, claws scraping grooves into stone already scarred by generations.

Not combat. Too synchronized.

The female lashed her tail, the tip whistling centimeters from the male’s throat. He pivoted, wings flaring to buffet her with heated air.

The female reared back, her throat pulsing as she unleashed a roar that made my molars ache. The male responded by dragging his claws through a trough of black sand, sending up a plume that swirled into patterns. Symbols. The same glyphs from the tunnel walls.

My translator implant buzzed uselessly against my skull as the crowd’s chanting shifted in tone, their voices splintering into dissonant harmonies that prickled my skin.

A warm trickle slid from my nose. I swiped at it absently, fingers coming away smeared with crimson.Damn dry air.The blood droplet hit the stone with a softtick.

Every Drakarn head snapped toward my hiding place.

For three excruciating heartbeats, the cavern held its breath.

Then two hundred pairs of vertical pupils contracted as one, their sulfur-yellow and orange irises fixing on my hiding place. The chanting died mid-syllable, leaving a silence so complete I heard the creak of leathery wing membranes adjusting.

The female’s wings fanned into a jagged corona, her snarl revealing twin rows of fangs. The monoliths behind her began to thrum, their surfaces bleeding veins of crimson light that pulsed in time with my rabbit-quick pulse.

Wrong. This is all wrong.

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