He did not even know what Abaddon could see. Was his vision limited to what could be seen through Codexes? A billion eyes, scattered across the vast universe, watching as species evolved, rose and fell?

And then … he smelled it. It was fleeting. Yet so pleasant that he could not help but stop and turn his head, seeking the scent’s source.

He followed his nose, turning his head left and right, taking him back the way he had come. Deeper into the spiraling tunnels.

Soon, the sloping tunnels were narrowing, and the chambers on either side becoming fewer and fewer, until there were none left at all. With each twist and turn, the smell grew stronger.

It was a strange fragrance. Almost floral, but at the same time making him salivate. His empty stomach twisted with hunger.

He was almost suspicious of it, but curiosity outweighed his fear. That, and the fact that there was no blood here. In fact, from the dust that gathered on the walls, it seemed nobody had been here for many years. His own feet left prints where he walked, showing no one before had passed this way, and the luminescence of the walls dimmed with every step he took.

Finally, the tunnel stopped. Its ending was rough, as if this tunnel had been left incomplete, abandoned halfway through its boring.

The smell was now overpowering, yet there was no source of the heady aroma that had drawn him here. He stood there, silent in the darkness, wondering if the ceiling would collapse upon him, a trap he had fallen into of his own volition.

“Well, this was a waste of time,” he said aloud.

The Codex, his only companion, remained silent, staring at him through its unreadable lens. He stared back at it, waiting for a response. Wondering if Abaddon had drawn him here for a private audience.

Still, nothing.

And then … a throb.

There was no other way to describe it. As if the very world had shuddered without moving, pulsing along some unseen plane. He felt it deep in his guts, though the world around him remained unchanged.

The Codex fell. Plummeting to the ground with an audible crack, then rolling like a marble down the incline of the slope.

Cade watched it roll, eyes widening, only to gasp as the sphere disappeared into the very rock itself.

A voice spoke.

“We do not have much time,” it said. “Follow, quickly.”

CHAPTER

28

Cade stared.

Breathed. Waited.

His mind teetered on the edge of a full-blown panic attack. Yet the voice spoke again.

“Cade, please.”

It was the Codex’s voice. Artificial. Flat toned.

“Abaddon?” he hissed.

There was a pause. Then:

“Walk toward this voice. Hurry.”

Cade put his hand to the wall, letting his fingers graze along its surface. Only they touched nothing but air, passing through the wall as if it were not there at all.

He took a step forward, leaning his face toward the wall. Something grasped his breastplate and pulled him through.