The council chamber was silent now, its obsidian walls swallowing the echoes of the five shadows that had just dissolved from the screen. Yet their presence lingered — like smoke after gunfire.
Chief Roman stood alone, the blue light from the holo-table casting sharp lines across his face. He could still hear their voices — calm, regal, and full of veiled menace.
> "We have tolerated delays, Roman."
"The relic beneath the Plateau is no longer in your possession."
"Deliver the Pacific relic by the solstice — or our pact ends."
The last voice, deep and accented, had belonged to the dictator — the one whose empire stretched across the islands of the southern ocean. A man worshipped by his people as both leader and god. He was obsessed with the Relic of the Pacific, said to grant divine protection to whoever wielded it — an unbreakable shield forged by the Maker's own hand.
He was worshipped by his people like a god now he wanted to become an actual God.
Roman clenched his jaw. They think they can command me.
He knew better. Each of the five members thought themselves masters, but only he had glimpsed the full pattern. Only he understood that the relics were not meant to be divided — that together, they formed a single consciousness. A force capable of bending time and mortality itself.
He turned to the holo-table, activating the global projection. The map rippled to life, colors shifting and settling into the familiar topography of the Earth. A faint pulse emanated from Africa — a deep, rhythmic beat that echoed across the digital map.
The source: Jos Plateau.
Roman's expression hardened.
It had been dormant for centuries, sleeping beneath layers of time and secrecy. And yet, in the last twelve hours, readings had spiked beyond containment thresholds. His scientists in Geneva called it an anomaly — he called it an inevitability.
He zoomed in on the data stream. The Heart beneath the Plateau — long dormant, now resonating at frequencies the lab had only theorized. The readings were erratic, primal, and… sentient.
A grim smile crept across his face.
"Chuka Nwankwo," he said quietly, "you've just rung the Maker's bell."
The Heart was lost to him now — bound by blood, by lineage. The Nwankwo bloodline had been part of the sealing ritual millennia ago. Only their descendants could awaken or wield it. Roman had known this, and he had accepted it — but what he hadn't foreseen was that its awakening would rouse the others.
That changed everything
He zoomed out, watching as the pulse spread — faint tremors across distant coordinates: one beneath the Pacific, another in the Andes, a third flicker near the ruins of Angkor. Like fire jumping from tree to tree, the awakening had set off a chain reaction across the world.
He tapped the console and opened the telemetry feed from the Zurich lab. Rows of data scrolled upward — energy signatures, harmonic frequencies, and ancient script correlations. In the center of it all, a single line blinked red:
> Primary nexus active. Secondary nodes resonating. Interference detected in all sectors.
Roman's jaw tightened. The relics are speaking to each other.
He turned as the door hissed open. Monica entered, her posture crisp and her expression carefully neutral. She carried a slim data-pad tucked under one arm.
"Sir," she began, "Dr. Halvorsen's report from the field labs. The activation wave originated exactly twenty-three minutes after the last recorded seismic anomaly near Jos. It's spreading faster than predicted."
"How many signatures confirmed?"
"Five, possibly six. The strongest is in the Mariana Arc — which aligns with the legend of the Pacific relic."
Roman's lips curved into something that might have been a smile, if not for the cold in his eyes. "The dictator will be pleased."
"Shall I prepare a briefing for the Council?"
"No," he said sharply, his tone cutting across the room like a blade. "Let them stew in their impatience. They think this awakening threatens our control — it doesn't. It clarifies it."
Monica hesitated. "But if the relics are resonating, recovery will be exponentially more difficult. The containment fields—"
Roman raised a hand. "I'm aware. But the relics are not hidden anymore. Their energy will call to those sensitive enough to feel it — priests, seers, even children born with traces of the Maker's bloodline. They'll reveal themselves in time. And when they do…" He stepped closer to the holographic globe, his hand hovering over the flickering lights. "…we'll be waiting."
He could almost feel their pulse beneath his palm — each relic breathing, alive.
Monica glanced at the readings again. "The activation is feeding back through the ley networks. Our instruments can barely sustain the pressure."
"Good," Roman murmured. "That means we're close."
He turned away from her, walking toward the wide glass window again. Rain had begun to fall harder, streaking the skyline like molten silver. Thunder boomed distantly.
"The Heart beneath the Plateau was always bound to blood," he said quietly. "The Nwankwo line. I knew it, even before the first excavation. The Heart rejected us because it already had a master. It recognized its heir."
Monica frowned slightly. "Chuka."
"Yes." Roman's tone was flat. "His lineage is older than he knows. His ancestors helped imprison the Maker's power. That's why the relic answered him — and why it will never obey me."
He turned back toward the holo-table, his eyes burning with cold intent. "But in binding itself to him, the Heart betrayed its brothers. Its activation was a flare in the dark — a call that the others could not ignore. Every relic in the network is waking, reaching for its kin."
He paused, his gaze thoughtful. "He's made recovery harder, yes. But he's also made tracking them easier. Their energy signatures are converging. Each one is now… traceable."
Monica shifted uneasily. "And what of the dictator? He demanded the Pacific relic as proof of progress. He's grown impatient."
Roman gave a low chuckle — the sound of a man who'd already anticipated every move on the board. "He wants divine protection. Let him. The Pacific relic was designed for guardianship — a shield, not a weapon. It will obey only the one who commands in faith, not fear. That alone will be his undoing."
He walked to the desk and poured himself a glass of amber liquid. The ice clinked softly. "Tell our deep-sea division to prepare reconnaissance. Discreetly. No recovery attempt until I say so. The relic's resonance field will tear apart anything unworthy that tries to touch it."
Monica nodded. "And Nwankwo?"
Roman studied the swirling liquid in his glass. "Leave him for now. The relic will protect him until it decides he's served his purpose. But keep surveillance active. The next time it pulses, I want to know precisely where he is and who he's with."
"Yes, sir."
When she left, the silence returned — thick, electric, almost sentient. Roman sipped his drink and stared at the world map again. The glowing nodes pulsed like stars in a night sky. He found himself murmuring under his breath — an old phrase, half-remembered from the Nok inscriptions.
> "When the first heart beats, the others remember."