The crystal trees outside the dodecahedron began to shatter, releasing the stored consciousnesses of the Architects. They manifested as semi-corporeal shadows of light, and they were not friendly. They saw humans as parasites, feeding on the magnetic field without understanding.
“I want to stop it from killing us,” Thorne replied. “Your first journey was a fluke. This time, we go prepared.”
Seven years had passed since Professor Trevor Anderson, his nephew Sean, and the Icelandic guide Hannah Ásgeirsdóttir stumbled, burned, and nearly drowned their way back from the Mesozoic labyrinth beneath the Earth’s crust. They had emerged as heroes, but the world had greeted their tale with polite skepticism and then, mercifully, silence.
The journey to the center of the Earth was over. But something else was coming.