Jacob wipes tears from his glazed-over eyes. ‘I was drowning in her sulfuric maelstrom, ranting and raging and screaming as if caught in a swirling pool of lava, then suddenly I was in an oasis of calm. Somehow Mick had reached in and saved me, pulling me to safety. I could still feel the Abomination clawing at my back, tempting me to look at her. And even though I had just escaped her Hell, it was all I could do to keep myself from turning again.

‘My father pulled me into his arms and held me, whispering that I am the true Hunahpu, the Nephilim messiah, and that he would be there for me when I needed him.’

Dominique wipes a tear. ‘How did he look?’

‘Weary. And then he faded back into the white light.’

Warning bells sound, snapping Jacob to attention. ‘Computer, report.’

WARPED SPACE DETECTED, COURSE TWO-ZERO-THREE MARK SIX. TIME TO INTERCEPT: FOUR MINUTES, TWENTY SECONDS.

‘Origin of warped space?’

GRAVITATIONAL RIPPLE.

‘The wormhole?’ Dominique asks.

Jacob nods. ‘Computer, plot and execute intercept course.’

She follows Jacob forward into the control room.

‘Computer, activate forward screen.’

A three-dimensional image of space appears on the wall before them. Located in the upper right hand corner of the screen, growing in size as it travels from east to west, is the frightening scarlet-ringed aperture of the wormhole.

Jacob stares at the object. ‘I think you’d better strap in.’

Dominique climbs into one of the pilot chairs, which instantly conforms to her physique. The mouth of the vortex appears before them, radiating like a swirling, orange-red alien moon.

ACTIVATING EXOTIC-MATTER BEACONS.

The image of the scarlet orifice blurs as the negative energy field of the starship’s exotic-matter force field carves an invisible path before them.

Jacob pulls himself into his command chair as the wormhole’s mouth grows to occupy the entire forward screen. ‘Hold on!’

The sleek starship crosses the wormhole’s threshold, the cosmic tunnel’s intense gravitational forces instantly sucking the vessel down its throat, propelling it through its conduit.

Dominique’s arms are suctioned to her chair, the intense gravitational turbulence shaking the vessel hard enough to loosen her back teeth. She bites down, her eyes barely able to focus on the forward screen.

They are rocketing through an iridescent sky-blue funnel, rimmed by a strange bloodred hue. At the very center of the image is a black dot … growing larger … larger—

And suddenly they are flung free, hurtling through space into an unrecognizable sector of the Galaxy.

Before them—an alien silvery-red planet.

Dominique whispers. ‘Xibalba …’

Jacob nods. ‘Computer, reactivate main engines. Plot a course for the larger of the two moons.’

PROBES HAVE BEEN LAUNCHED FROM THE LUNAR SURFACE, APPROACHING GRAVITY RIPPLE.

‘Activate aft screen.’

The image of space changes. Appearing on-screen—the wormhole’s exit, bathed in emerald green. Moving into position along the perimeter of the orifice are hundreds of school-bus-sized probes, each emitting a luminescent blue beacon.