Meanwhile, somewhere dark and forgotten…

The figure moved through damp corridors,
footsteps muffled by worn stone.

The air smelled of mold
and of things that should never have been remembered.

The figure stopped before a massive wooden door.
A rusty key clicked inside the lock with a sharp metallic sound.

Inside... silence.

A lantern was lit.
Then another.

The orange glow revealed a room overflowing with open books,
notes written in multiple languages, glass instruments blackened by time,
and strange chemical vials.

At the center of the room stood a table.

A tangled network of circuits and cables converged into two metallic arms,
stretched toward one another.

Between them, suspended in empty space,
floated a black sphere no larger than a marble.

Its surface was liquid.
Unstable.
As though it were struggling to exist.

The figure stopped.

A reflection crossed the face,
distorted through thin lenses that caught the lantern light for a brief instant.

With an automatic gesture, almost nervous,
the figure adjusted the glasses on their nose.

Then pulled out a small greenish stone.
Their hand did not tremble.

The figure inserted it into a socket within the circuitry.

The room vibrated.
The sphere reacted.
Its trembling slowed.
Its surface smoothed out.
The black deepened.

More stable.

A whisper drifted through the air.

It did not come from the room.

The figure remained motionless.
Listening.

Then tilted the head ever so slightly,
as if had just received confirmation.

Behind the lenses, eyes narrowed.
A faint smile curved the lips.
“Good…”
murmured in that sepulchral silence.

The lantern flickered.

And for a single instant,
the sphere seemed to pulse...

like a heart that had just begun beating again.