PART 22
We ascended the steps of the ziggurat,
each stone worn smooth by centuries of currents that were now held at bay by my straining mind.
At the summit sat the third console,
a massive block of black obsidian with a circular basin filled with quicksilver that didn't reflect our faces.
Instead,
the silver liquid showed an image of the lighthouse in Blackwood Harbor,
but the structure was surrounded by a wall of fire that didn't produce smoke.
"It's a feedback loop,"
I realized,
leaning over the basin as the quicksilver began to boil and spit.
"The local anchor is overheating because we are taking too long to align the secondary nodes."
"Then let's finish this,"
Daniel said,
looking up at the towering walls of water that were beginning to tremble at the edges of our vision.
The strain of holding back the lake was beginning to take its toll on me;
my nose was bleeding,
a thin trickle of dark red that ran down my lip and dripped into the mud.
To activate the obsidian node,
there was no key or gear;
there was only a small stone needle sticking up from the center of the quicksilver basin.
"It wants blood,"
Daniel said,
his face pale with horror as he realized what the machine required.
"It wants the line of the architect."
Before he could stop me,
I pressed my palm down onto the needle,
feeling the sharp point pierce the crystal that had grown into my skin.
The quicksilver instantly turned dark red,
absorbing my blood and spinning into a violent whirlpool that began to drain down into the ziggurat.
A deep,
subterranean groan echoed through the lake bed,
and the obsidian block split open,
revealing a heavy,
metallic rod that rose from the depths of the structure.
As the rod locked into place,
a pulse of green energy shot outward from the ziggurat,
rippling through the walls of water and out into the wider world.
The second node was aligned,
the connection established,
and inside my mind,
another map unlocked,
showing a location deep within the desert of New Mexico.
But the cost was immediate.
The silver lines on my arm had now reached my shoulder,
and my left hand had become entirely numb,
the fingers stiff and cold like carved marble.
"Amelia,
we have to go,
now!"
Daniel shouted,
grabbing my arm as the walls of water began to lose their consistency,
collapsing inward with a terrifying roar.
The path we had walked was disappearing as millions of tons of lake water rushed back to reclaim the floor.
We ran down the steps of the ziggurat,
the mud turning into a treacherous mire that threatened to trap our feet with every stride.
Behind us,
the sunken city was swallowed once again by the dark,
May you like
uncaring waters of Lake Superior,
leaving no trace of its existence above the surface.
