The storm over Abuja had broken by midnight, but deep underground, the hum of the compound continued — steady, surgical, relentless. Inside the observation chamber, Agent Varas stood surrounded by a halo of glowing screens, his reflection ghosted across the data feeds.
The pulse from Jos had faded, but its echoes hadn't. They'd ricocheted through the ionosphere, whispering across oceans, and now, hours later, something new had awakened far from Africa.
A junior analyst rushed in, clutching a tablet.
"Sir, you need to see this."
Varas turned. The analyst's voice trembled slightly — not from fear of him, but of what the readings suggested.
"What is it?"
"Deep-sea sensors at the Mariana Arc just spiked. An electromagnetic flare — same frequency signature as the Plateau relic. The oceanographic team thought it was a glitch, but… then it pulsed again.
" Run it again, now" he said.
A young analyst typed rapidly, recalibrating the energy grid. "Sir, the signal reappeared for six-point-three seconds and then vanished. The spike registered off the charts — comparable to a localized earthquake, except there was no seismic movement."
Varas leaned closer. "No seismic movement," he repeated. "Then what was it?"
"We think it was a resonance flare," the analyst replied. "Similar to the readings from Jos two weeks ago — only sharper, like… like something tore open and then sealed itself again."
Varas said nothing for a long moment. Then he tapped his earpiece.
"Patch me through to Manhattan."
Varas took the tablet, scanning the readings. His eyes narrowed. "How deep?"
"Over eleven thousand meters. Near a volcanic rift. Sir, it's… alive down there."
Before he could reply, the main holo-display flickered to life — Chief Roman's call coming through. His face appeared in the soft blue light, cold and impassive, eyes like shadows behind glass.
"Report," he said.
Varas held out the tablet to the central projector. "Sir, we've confirmed the location of the Pacific relic. The energy surge from Jos gave us a triangulation pattern. Every time the boy trains, the relics respond — like they're all connected through the same network."
Roman's expression didn't change, but the silence that followed was almost electric.
"So…" he murmured, "…Nwankwo's training is doing my work for me."
"Yes, sir," Varas said carefully. "We've pinpointed the site — a trench cavity below the Mariana Arc. The geothermal readings are unstable, but the resonance matches exactly."
Roman leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Behind him, the Manhattan skyline shimmered with lightning. "Do we have visual confirmation?"
"Not yet. The depth makes it impossible for standard drones to survive. But the Zurich branch is preparing a reinforced probe. They can deploy within forty-eight hours."
Roman's lips curved slightly. "Then tell them to move. I want eyes on it before the next surge."
"Yes, sir."
Varas hesitated before ending the call. "Sir… if I may — every time the boy channels energy, it's like he's waking the others. Shouldn't we consider silencing him?"
Roman's voice turned colder. "And lose my compass? No, Agent. As long as he breathes, the relics will reveal themselves."
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "The mistake of ancient kings was destroying their prophets too soon. I intend to listen before I strike."
The line cut.
Varas stared at the darkened screen, feeling the unease settle in his chest. Outside, the thunder had returned — low and unending.
He turned to his analysts. "Get me every satellite feed over the Mariana Arc. And put a deep-ocean vessel on standby. If that thing moves, I want Roman to know before it blinks."
The analyst nodded, already typing.
Across the room, a seismic feed came alive with soft blue lines, and for a brief moment, something vast shifted in the depths — a pulse like a heartbeat under pressure.
Far away in Manhattan, Roman poured himself a glass of dark wine, staring at the holographic map.
The Plateau. The Pacific. The Andes still faint.
He smiled faintly — the kind of smile that belonged to men who played with empires.
"Keep training, Chuka," he whispered. "Every step you take brings me closer."
Outside, lightning crawled across the skyline, and deep beneath the Pacific, the relic stirred again — ancient metal grinding against stone, releasing a low, harmonic hum that resonated across the water like a song no human was meant to hear.
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