Page 81 of The Viking in the Vault
Dr. Kallisto exhales, checking her comm again. “We’re deeper than we should be,” she mutters. “The collapse forced us off the primary research path. I need a moment to reorient our coordinates.”
“I can lead us back,” I say. “Fenrik has a trail.”
“Not yet,” Kallisto says sharply. “We need to know where we are first.”
Fenrik lets out a soft whine, pawing at the ice ahead. I frown, my instincts prickling.
“Something is here,” I say.
The others turn toward me.
Fenrik moves ahead, sniffing at the ice, circling a patch of wall that looks no different from the rest. His ears twitch, his tail stilling.
I step forward, pressing my palm against the frozen surface.
I see a flicker of something beneath the ice—something metallic. The color is faint, just barely catching the light. But it’s there.
Close.
“Help me clear this,” I say, my voice rough in the still air.
Elena is the first to move, stepping toward me without hesitation, but Dr. Kallisto reaches out to stop her.
“What are you doing?” Kallisto snaps. “You could destabilize the tunnel even more?—”
“No.” I point at the ice, at the glint beneath the surface. “Look. There’s something here.”
Elena drops to her knees, pulling a scraper from her pack, and together we begin working at the frost.
Kallisto exhales sharply but doesn’t stop us.
The others hesitate, then move closer. Rishik pulls out his datapad, adjusting the settings as he scans the wall. His frown deepens.
“There’s something underneath,” he murmurs. “Something metal.”
I don’t need him to tell me.
I already know what we will find.
A pod buried in ice.
Just like mine.
The air tightens around me as we clear more of the frost. Slow at first, then faster, the shape revealing itself inch by inch: Curved edges. Worn plating. Not pristine like my own had been.
Something is wrong.
Elena wipes a hand across the glass viewport, clearing the frost, and there—inside?—
A Skoll.
Frozen.
Dead.
Elena inhales sharply and staggers back, covering her mouth. I can do nothing but stare—because the face beneath the glass is familiar, even through the years, even with frost-glazed eyes andvacant features. The memory stings, regret surging through me as Fenrik nudges my hand, whining.
I press my hand against the glass, my pulse roaring in my ears. Elena comes closer again despite the fear I can scent all over her, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder.
