Dust hangs thick in the dry canyon air, shimmering in the late afternoon sun. A gust of wind rustles the yellowed canvas of the dig site’s tarp, then dies as suddenly as it came. Somewhere beneath layers of time and sandstone, something waits.
Elaine crouches beside the stone slab, brush in one hand, notebook in the other. Her glasses slide down her nose as she squints at the inscription carved in crumbling basalt. She mutters, the words half-lost under her breath as she deciphers the ancient glyphs.
"‘Whosoever breaks the seal shall awaken the Sleeper, whose name is forgotten, whose wrath is eternal...'"
She snorts, flipping her pencil around to tap the stone like it personally offended her.
"Right. And next it'll tell me to turn back before I suffer a fate worse than tenure review."
With a grunt and a roll of her eyes, she digs her fingers into the edge of the slab and heaves. Stone grinds against stone. Something shifts in the air—a weight pressing down, just out of reach. The breeze dies completely.
Elaine freezes, blinking up at the suddenly too-quiet sky.
"...Huh. Dramatic. If a plague of locusts shows up, someone get it on film for the grant committee."
She dusts off her hands and straightens, utterly unimpressed. Behind her, something ancient stirs.
