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Shuddering vibrations traveled through the soles of Santiago’s feet and rattled his bones. Slowly, the far wall rolled back. He covered his ears, hardly blocking the earsplitting sound of stone grinding against stone.

When it finally stopped, the wall slotting into some hidden opening like a giant replica of the Ranson Room window, a long, dark tunnel was revealed.

“My God,” Torres said, his face alight with wonder. “This must go straight into the mountain!”

He moved as if to step forward, then caught himself.

“Rodriguez, Garcia, take the lead,” he ordered. “The rest of you, turn on your lights if you have them.”

Rodriguez was the tallest of the guards, Garcia the short and muscular woman Santiago had recognized as a true believer. They stepped forward, turning on powerful flashlights clipped to their shoulders. Behind him, Santiago heard the other Huáscaros do the same, and the space was suddenly illuminated.

Should I…? Santiago briefly considered true heroism but decided that he was in no rush to see his ancestors’ legacy destroyed. He allowed Torres’s people to take the lead.

When the tunnel didn’t immediately collapse around the first two entrants, the rest of the group followed.

The pathway was indeed carved into the mountain, all dirt and stone with the occasional peek of roots and non-sunlight-dependent vegetation. It smelled musty and old, the air dank and cool and more than slightly suffocating.

The space wasn’t wide. Two people at most could walk it side by side. Most of them traversed the path in a staggered zigzag formation, Rodriguez slightly ahead of Garcia. They were followed by Torres. Then Santiago, who had his arm around Ali. The rest trailed behind.

Santiago kept a tight grip on her waist, and she leaned into him as the infection weakened her.

“How’s the arm?” he asked quietly.

“Fine,” she whispered back. He shot her a look, but the tunnel was too dark to properly convey his disbelief. Ali seemed to understand anyway.

“It’s throbbing a lot,” she admitted. “And I’m feeling pretty weak.”

Santiago pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’ve got you,” he said. “We’re almost there. We’re almost done.”

And he really hoped it was the truth.

They were quiet for the rest of the walk, anticipation heavy in the air. After a few minutes, the smell changed, and the air around them…freshened?

It took a moment for Santiago to realize that what he saw ahead wasn’t a reflection of the Huáscaros’ flashlights. They had reached the end of the tunnel.

Ali stepped into the open air a moment before him, but even her incredulous gasp couldn’t prepare Santiago for the scene ahead.

The tunnel had indeed led them through the mountainside, and it spat them out again at the mouth of a hidden canyon. It was a natural crevice between two mountains, like the V-shaped space between fingers, with a river flowing through its center. To their left, a shimmering waterfall gave off rainbows of dancing light.

Butterflies flitted around nearby bushes, and small birds traveled from tree to tree, filling their ears with gossip.

Looking up, Santiago saw that the trees grew tall and heavy on every peak. Long, lush branches, thick with leaves and fronds, overlapped in the canopy above, woven like a tapestry or basket.

Someone could fly a helicopter above them right now, and the contents of the canyon would remain concealed from view.

It was a hidden paradise. But the natural beauty of the place—as extraordinary as it was—wasn’t even what left Santiago speechless.

Ahead of them, across the ravine, was an glorious Incan monument, completely frozen in time.

Dios mío.

Santiago and Ali, without looking, found each other’s hands.

The temple was a stacked rectangular structure with perfectly cut and connected stone bricks. It was tall, but Santiago couldn’t say exactly how tall from where he stood. Thankfully, a rope bridge stretched from the mouth of their tunnel to the temple’s front courtyard.

Only one way to find out. Santiago took a mindless step forward, but Ali held him back. Oh yeah. She’s probably right.

“Remarkable,” Torres whispered, and Santiago was brought back to himself.