Its head turns. Slow. Mechanical. Copper joints clicking. Green eyes lock onto me.

"You," it says. Its voice is metal scraping on stone. "You carry the stench of the old death. Of the fire that fell from the sky."

I don't move. My hand is on the pistol. Useless. But there.

"You know me?" I ask.

"No. — The green eyes flicker. — But I know the mark. The curse. The door. And I know the poison in your veins."

I freeze. "Radiation?"

"The fire that fell from the sky. The poison that killed the world. — It tilts its head. — We were here. Before you. Before the humans. Before the dragons. We were the first."

Sera steps forward. "The first what?"

"The first to rule this world. — The metal hums. — We built cities that touched the clouds. We built machines that moved mountains. And then... we made a mistake."

"A mistake?"

"We built a weapon. A fire that could not be stopped. — The green eyes dim. — We used it to destroy our enemies. But the fire did not care. It burned everything. The sky turned to ash. The world died."

"We hid. Deep underground. But the radiation followed. It ate our flesh. It ate our children. And we had a choice. Die as men. Or live as machines."

It points at its own metal chest.

"We chose to live. We gave up our flesh. Our blood. Our souls. We became this. To survive the poison we created."

I look around. At the obsidian pillars. At the carved suns and serpents. At the stepped pyramid ceiling disappearing into the dark. But the walls aren't just stone. They're covered in rusted metal. Old cables. Pipes that pulse with that sick green light. Like veins. Like the place is alive.

"This isn't a temple," I say. "It's a barrow." "A barrow?" Sera asks. "A mass grave. A tomb. — I look at the metal walls. — A massive underground barrow." "The Farrkh," the necroscal says. "That is what we called it. The sanctuary. The place where we slept. The place where we waited." "You built this place," I say. "We did. — The green eyes glow brighter. — The pyramids. The machines. We watched the stars from here.