Liam sat on a dusty crate and opened the journal. The early entries were scientific—notes about water tables, mineral research, and drilling.
But as he flipped the pages, the handwriting became jagged and frantic. The dates were from 1964.
“Gas pockets found. High pressure,” one entry read.
Then, a few pages later: “The mountain groaned again last night. It felt like it was alive.”
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The final entries were the most disturbing. Dr. Keane wrote about “voices in the dark” and lights flickering without power.
The very last line, written in shaky scrawl, read: “I think the mountain is breathing. I know that sounds crazy, but we all felt it. It’s angry.”
Liam closed the book, a chill running down his spine. He wasn’t alone in the dark. He could feel the weight of the rock above him. But he had to see what they were guarding.
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