126424 -

From deep beneath the floorboards, miles under the crust of the earth, something immense groaned in response. The "Lazarus" wasn't an archive. It was a doorbell.

Suddenly, the terminal chirped. A new line of text scrolled across the screen, written in a coding language that hadn't been used in a century: WAKE UP, ELIAS. WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THE KEY. 126424

According to the map, the location wasn't on the surface of the planet. It was three hundred miles directly below the tectonic plate they called home. Elias leaned back, his heart hammering against his ribs. There was nothing down there but magma and pressurized silence. From deep beneath the floorboards, miles under the

On the screen, a single string of digits pulsed in the center of the void: . Suddenly, the terminal chirped

The digits weren't a time. They were coordinates, refined to a microscopic degree. 126.42.4.

At first, he thought it was a timestamp—a forgotten moment in the Great Blackout. But as he ran the numbers through the station’s geological mapper, the terminal began to hum, a low vibration that Elias felt in his teeth.