World's Divide Collection: Books 1-4

By Ryan Hartung

When an ancient temple is uncovered in the Amazon, the Peruvian authorities call upon Colt Andrews, one of the world’s foremost archeologists. Upon arrival however, he realizes the temple is not what he was expecting. Although Peru is thousands of miles from ancient Greece, the temple within its rainforest is dedicated to the Greek god of thunder, Zeus. Even more astounding is its treasure hidden within. Deep inside, an intricate staff worked into the shape of a lightning bolt, waits for Colt to claim its power.
The World’s Divide collection of books 1 through 4 covers the discovery of the Lightning Staff, Hades’ Sphere, Poseidon’s Trident and Demeter’s Wreath and the magical powers they possess. As the series of novellas continue, other nations besides the United States also join the hunt for the ancient relics. Some nations will use them for good, while others for evil. Relationships are forged, while others are broken, all against the backdrop of growing world strife and the beginning rumblings of a third worldwide war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ryan Hartung
• Release date: Jan 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781942123071

Ryan Hartung

Dr. Ryan E. Hartung spent most of his life growing up in rural Nebraska. After earning his Ph. D. in organic chemistry from the Ohio State University he then made a quick stop with his family in the garden state before finally settling in Tucson, Arizona. Ryan continues to live in Tucson with his wife Elizabeth, his two daughters Amber and Keira, their dog Ginger and currently untamed hamster Brave. He is the author of the World's Divide series of novellas among other novels.

Book preview

I hope you enjoy this book. Reviews are always appreciated, and help both authors and readers.

Lightning

World’s Divide

Book 1

Chapter

1

BOOM!

Dust filled the chamber, clouding Colt Andrews’s view. Coughing, he waved his hands, trying with little success to shoo the floating dust particles away. The other two members of his tiny archeological search team took a few steps backward as the dust slowly dissipated.

Colt slapped his worn blue jeans and tan button-down shirt with his red and yellowed-white baseball cap, causing miniature dust clouds to explode off his clothes. As the dust continued settling, Colt grimaced as the damage to the ancient stone temple door became more apparent.

I said push the door, not break it down, Colt said scolding his assistant Dominic Barboa; who was still lying on the temple’s sandy floor. Dominic had tried to budge the solid rock door by running and hitting it at full speed, only to bounce off its solid surface and onto the ground. However, the momentum built by his sprinting start had nevertheless done the trick. But instead of pushing the heavy stone slab inward, Dominic’s rushing attack had hit the upper half of the door, knocking it off its center of gravity and causing the massive slab to crash to the floor.

Sorry boss, guess I screwed up huh? Dominic sullenly replied as he stood.

Naw, we needed that door opened one way or another. The way I see it, you just saved us over a week’s time by not having to get a team in here to move it the right way, Colt replied half joking while half serious. Colt paused before entering the newly unsealed room and fingered the Greek name for Zeus etched into the temple wall. What I want to know is what are ancient Greek and Roman symbols and text doing in a temple in the middle of the Amazon? Can either of you tell me that?

Colt Andrews—or Sir Colt Andrews as the Queen of England had just knighted him three months ago—was one of the finest archeologists in the world. His attention to detail and immeasurable knowledge of ancient civilizations, coupled with an almost prophetic knack of discovering lost treasures left him with no equals.

Three weeks ago, deep in the Peruvian portion of the Amazon rainforest, a group of three American hikers had trekked to a remote citadel of the ancient Chachapoyas people. Unlike Peru’s other darker-skinned ancient tribes, this particular race had been called the Warriors of the Clouds, as they were white skinned and had blonde hair.

While traveling through the ruins of the ancient city, the trio had accidentally stumbled upon a hidden underground passageway leading to a richly decorated temple after one of their party fell through a weakened tile slab outside of the citadel. The Peruvian government had then called the most respected archeologist in the world to come make sense of their newfound labyrinth.

I don’t know, maybe those other Americans carved it into the rock to screw with us, Colt’s other assistant and girlfriend Hillary Chapman joked.

Do you guys see that? Colt asked, not paying attention to the joke. He pointed to a thin sliver of light emanating from a crack at the base of a far wall in the adjacent room.

See what Colt? Dominic asked. He squinted, but still didn’t see anything. From Dominic’s position the sun’s bright light was still seeping into the ancient carved tunnel too much and was thus washing out any weaker sources of illumination.

Follow me guys and watch your step, Colt ordered. He stepped through the threshold of the fallen door and into the next even more dimly lit room. After their eyes had adjusted to the room’s darkness, Colt asked them again. You two see it now? He crouched low to the ground and waved his hand along the rocky crevice. For a few seconds his hand glowed a pale yellow. As he moved his hand away from the wall, the yellow light again dissipated into the dark room.

What do you make of it? Hillary asked.

I’m not exactly sure, Hill. None of this makes any sense. What was a tribe of Caucasians doing in the Amazon? And why are these Roman and Greek symbols only carved in these underground rooms; not up above? I don’t know why yet, but they must be interconnected somehow. Let’s get out our flashlights and see what this next wall has to say.

Although the first two rooms had contained adequate lighting from the sun’s afternoon rays as they shone through the American’s accidental hole, the new more secluded chamber was beyond the light’s reaches.

As the explorers entered the new chamber, three sources of unnatural pure white light switched on, bathing the room’s far wall in their eerie glow. The team’s flashlights, although powerful, were not a match for the sun’s brilliant rays, causing the explorers to venture even closer to the far wall. The wall appeared to be one massive continuous slab of dark brown stone with another similar doorway cut into its middle. Colt shifted his attention from the wall and to the singular door. Etched into the giant stone slab was more of the ancient Greek writing.

What’s it say? Dominic asked with a puzzling look. This being only his fourth trip with the world-renowned archeologist, Dominic had yet to pick up on the subtle differences between the ancient languages. When he had first agreed to join the team, Colt had left what Dominic considered a laughably huge stack of language and history books in his beaten up truck for some light nighttime reading. Dominic now wished he had at least opened a few of thick dusty books instead of scattering them around his messy apartment.

Colt studied the stone door. Carved lightning bolts surrounded the door’s edges. The bottom half of the stone slab featured another singular lightning bolt, which was ten times the size of the smaller ones adorning the door’s edges. Covering the entire top half of the stone slab, however, was ancient Greek.

It says: HERE LIES ZEUS, THE GOD OF LIGHTNING’S FINAL RESTING PLACE. THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE ZEUS. Colt read, scratching his head.

What the heck does that mean? Dominic asked.

Not a clue. Only one way to find out though, Colt replied with a wry smile. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a long black iron crow bar.

Concerned, Hillary rested a soft hand on his arm. What are you thinking? You can’t just pry the door open. What if you damage it? Whatever’s behind that piece of rock could be the find of the century.

I know, Colt replied and patted her hand with his, trying to ease her worry. "Dom already busted down the first door, and I need to see where that light is coming from."

Hillary saw the determination in Colt’s eyes and reluctantly released her grasp and took a step back. Colt grabbed the iron tool and jabbed it into the door’s sealed side with all his might. Chips of splintered rock sprayed his sweat-soaked shirt.

No turning back now, Hillary muttered, unconvinced Colt’s idea was a good one. Colt put his back into the crow bar and pushed with all of his might. The door didn’t budge. He took a step back, leaving the crow bar precariously hanging out of the wall. Colt spit into his hands and rubbed them together.

Here’s looking at you, Dom, he said and took a running start towards the iron tool. An umph, escaped Colt’s lungs and mouth as his impact with the rigid metal bar forced out any excess air. Undeterred by the brief loss of stale unused air, he continued prying against the door and dug his shoes into the hard ground. Finally, the rough sound of rock grating on rock began to hum throughout the room. The door opened an inch and stopped. Although barely ajar, the unmistakable odd pale yellow light was now showing through the entire side of the partially opened stone door.

Hey, wanna give me a hand here? Colt asked Dominic optimistically.

Sure. I’ve already broken one priceless artifact, what’s another, he dryly replied. Dominic’s two hundred pound Hispanic frame, when added to Colt’s thickly muscled core, made quick work of the rocky doorway. With two coordinated pushes, using the crowbar as leverage, they opened the door enough to where they were able to wrap their fingers along the back of the door’s side and begin pulling. Hillary then helped the two burley men scrape the massive slap of rock along the floor’s smoothed stone tiles.

Once the stone door was fully opened, they each stared in awe. The pale white light from the inner room bathed them and their surroundings. It almost seemed brighter than the sun. Initially the light was too bright to look at directly, but as time passed their retinas adjusted to where brief glances at the object stopped initiating immediate watering of the eyes.

I’m going in, Colt determinedly announced. With a hand he shielded his eyes and took a small step forward.

Are you loco? Dominic gasped. You don’t know what the heck that thing is. It’s not natural, that’s for sure. Maybe it’s alien, maybe it really is from Zeus. I don’t give a crap. Seriously, you shouldn’t go in there.

He’s right, Hillary said. That light’s not natural. You better be careful. Hillary knew when it came to Colt’s work the only person he ever listened to was himself. His belief in himself was what had made him so successful. Ever since she’d known Colt, he’d marched to his own tune. Maybe that was one of the reasons she was so attracted to him. What woman didn’t want an overly confident man, whose sole purpose in life was to travel for adventure and fun?

Dominic and Hillary nervously watched as Colt disappeared into the room filled with light. Once inside the chamber, Colt was barely able to open his eyes more than the tiniest of slits. The light inside was pure and blinding. He wasn’t sure how big the room was, maybe twelve feet by twelve feet. All Colt knew, was that the unknown object emitting the freakishly bright light was growing closer with each step.

As he continued, carefully footing his steps forward, he felt the room’s temperature increasing the closer the light became. After a couple more steps, Colt’s foot kicked something solid. He’d been in enough temples and seen enough Indiana Jones movies to guess the solid object was resting on a pedestal or some type of altar. Nervously and with shaking fingers, he reached out. His breathing quickened, while sweat beaded from every pore on his body. He touched the object.

ZZZIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGG!

Electricity pulsed through Colt’s body. Pain. The only sensation he felt was pain. The electrical force of the shock blew him out of his shoes and against the room’s far wall. His senses went dead.

Chapter

2

W e don’t have any other choice. The cost of oil is dropping like a rock, and with it each of our country’s economic net worth, the Iraqi prime minister shouted and slammed his fist on the table in front of him. "The world is moving away from the one major commodity each of our countries possesses: oil. We must decide here and now what we are going to do."

The presidents and prime ministers of almost all of the current members of the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries were convened in Baghdad, where ironically OPEC had been birthed decades ago. Now, they were heatedly debating OPEC’s inevitable collapse.

The western technologies of lithium ion batteries, wind farms, and highly efficient solar arrays were decimating the world’s appetite for their precious black gold. The countries were desperate for an answer. So desperate in fact, that even war with the West was on the table.

Only the United Arab Emirates’ president was missing from the quickly convened meeting. Although under the guise of a traditional OPEC assembly the UAE president, as did the other nations’ leaders, knew the gathering was about much more than oil. It was about survival. Long ago the UAE’s governing body had wisely shifted their country’s national image from not only being just an oil producing country, but a major economic hub in the Middle East.

Even though the UAE’s president had declined the meeting’s invitation, his country’s ties to the Middle East were strong enough to diffuse any of the other presidents’ worries about which side the United Arab Emirates would actually support if it came to war. The UAE had too much to lose to openly support the Eastern nations’ agenda and would act as the Switzerland of the Middle East should any conflict arise.

Venezuela’s president Ramirez raised a hand for calm. A tall, olive skinned man with wide shoulders and a head full of thick black hair, he somewhat resembled a Middle Eastern man, but yet was also very different.

Comrades. We are in agreement that something needs to be done, no? Although Venezuela feels the same as Iraq, I’m not sure an all-out war is a viable option. If we can’t convince the Russians or China to join us, our efforts will be in vain. The United States and Europe’s military technologies are too highly advanced. We need the military might of at least Russia or China, hopefully both. Even if they choose to remain neutral, their non-action would spell our doom.

Don’t forget to include Israel with the West. They may not be the United States or close to your country, but in this region they are not a power to be taken lightly. Let us not forget their dominance of Syria, Jordan, and Egypt in only a matter of days in 1967, Libya’s president interjected.

Yes, yes, Israel cannot be overlooked, Venezuela’s president affirmed before continuing. I have only had limited conversations with my other South American brethren, but I believe if this body comes to an agreement on war they will join us. Too many years has the world looked down their noses at our South American nations. The United States is like a bat, sucking away at our hard work, our lifeblood, only to see its citizens prosper off our overly burdened backs. We are tired of being tread under their feet, and I believe Venezuela will not be the only South American nation to join the cause.

Algeria’s dark-skinned president cleared his throat, his black skin appearing even darker when contrasted against his peoples’ bright traditional colors he wore. He warily surveyed the other presidents, who formed the uneasy alliance before speaking.

As President Ramirez has said, he expects many of the South American nations to join our cause; I also have reason to believe most of Africa will also come to our aid. The African nations that decide to abstain from war will be isolated by the rest and will be unproblematic.

President Ramirez nodded in agreement and again took the floor. It appears that we have the rough beginnings of a crude military alliance, gentlemen, he said with a grin, masking his worry. Before any actions are taken we must find out who is with us and who is not. Africa, South America, the Middle East; these are the conglomerates of nations which will instigate this war. Before we send a delegation to Moscow and Beijing we need the majority of continental Africa, South America, and the Middle East to be solidly behind our agenda.

I agree with President Ramirez, Iraq’s president interjected. "The more nations we have behind us, the greater our chances to convince the Russians and Chinese to also join. I however have doubts that the Chinese will want war. They are too entangled in the American and European economies to side against them in an international war. Although the Chinese consider themselves a communist nation, their international trade agreements and obligations with the West are morphing their country closer to a western nation every day, whether they realize it or not. Not that I believe the Chinese will side with the West, I just do not believe they will side against them.

The Russians on the other hand will be a much easier sell. Their constant bickering with the European Union has taken its toll on them. Many of Russia’s territories have shirked their old master in favor of their more democratic and successful European neighbors."

Plus, ever since the Cold War, Russia’s been playing second fiddle to the US on the world stage. With the US and the European Union constantly slapping Russia with sanctions for this and that, I believe they will be more than happy to join us. I must reiterate that Russia’s inclusion in this war is almost a necessity if we are to have a fighting chance, Algeria’s president interjected.

The circular table of presidents and their most trusted advisors all nodded in agreement. Russia would be the key. Not one of the OPEC countries represented signed a broad alliance on expensive paper or took a solemn oath, but the first step toward the world’s unification of its lesser nations for a common goal was achieved.

***

Tell me we had eyes and ears in that room, President Robert Davis demanded. His intelligence officers had just informed him their intel suggested the OPEC meeting in Baghdad had been in fact a front for war. The world had become a bubbling pot of anger and resentment of international inequalities, and it was close to boiling over.

We did, sir. The president of Algeria’s closest confidant is on our payroll, the head of the CIA, Jack Marsh responded.

Well, we better have had someone in there. The world is so close to erupting in violence, we can ill afford to not have an inside man in these types of meetings. The president paused. So, spill it, what were they discussing? Was it how to gouge us even more on their light crude or were your sources correct that the meeting was a front?

Unfortunately Mr. President, our sources were correct. Oil wasn’t the topic, war was.

You can’t be serious? I know those nations have been struggling financially lately, but war? Who do they think they are?

I don’t know sir, but it was a serious conversation, Jack Marsh straightforwardly replied. There had always been chatter through the CIA’s communication channels about imminent attacks or strikes in various stages of planning against the United States and its allies. But over the past few years, the chatter had increased both in volume and in detail. Unlike the past, when the secretive talk mainly originated from fanatical Muslim sects, the past few months had been different. Now, the talk was not just from fanatics, but from countries the United States had once considered unthreatening.

South America, Africa, those continents had more problems than the president could count. And now they wanted to add America, the most powerful nation in the world, onto their list? Fools, he thought.

So, what are they planning? The president turned his back to Jack Marsh and poured himself a neat glass of scotch. Would you like one? he asked over his shoulder.

No thank you, Mr. President, Jack politely responded. He watched as the president raised the hand blown shot glass to his mouth and downed it in one large gulp. Jack licked his lips, wanting to drink the entire bottle alone in his condo, but forced himself to look away. Twenty-three years he’d been sober, and every time he was in the vicinity of the vile liquid, he remembered his last drink as if it were yesterday.

We have the entire discussion on tape, sir. I would say this meeting was mainly for each of the countries present to feel the others out. Unfortunately by the end of their little get-together, we believe they were all in agreement on war.

Regardless of what they decided, it just doesn’t make sense. How does Africa and South America think they can defeat us? Even if it is solely the United States against those two continents, I still don’t see how they could be much of a threat. Not one of their countries even has the nuclear option. Well, there’s the chance that South Africa might have hidden a few of their missiles before their disarmament, but none of the others have but a handful of operational nuclear power plants, let alone missiles.

That is true Mr. President, but they are not planning on fighting alone, Jack countered.

Oh? And who do they plan on asking, the Chinese? Let me tell you Jack, China is not the Japan of the nineteen thirties and forties. China might claim to be communist, but their government’s unquenchable thirst for economic growth, through capitalism mind you, has made their economy subject to the way the wind blows in this country and Europe. Whether or not we see eye to eye on world issues is another issue entirely, but our economies are tied together as one. There’s a reason it’s called a one-world economy you know. The only country that could deal us serious damage at the moment is probably Russia.

Very true sir, and you’re right; it’s not the Chinese they are planning to ask. It’s Russia.

The president was about to pour a second and final glass of scotch, of which he planned on nursing for at least a couple minutes, but froze at the mention of Russia.

"Well, that is a different story. Our relationship with Russia couldn’t be icier at the moment. Has the CIA heard anything from the Russians concerning OPEC?"

No sir. We believe none of the OPEC countries have yet to make contact with Russia concerning this new development.

President Davis immediately understood the severity of the situation. He walked to his desk phone and pushed the intercom button. Jerry, I want the Joint Chiefs of Staff assembled pronto.

Yes sir, came the dutiful reply.

Do you want me to leave? Jack March asked, already backing toward the door.

Nope. As soon as the team is assembled you’re going to tell them word for word what you just told me.

Chapter

3

C olt. Colt! Hillary shouted. Dominic had laid his lifeless body on the temple room’s floor and was pounding on his chest with his fists in a rather crude form of CPR.

Wake up! Dominic yelled, as he pushed some more. After Colt had touched the mysterious artifact, what Hillary and Dominic could only describe as a massive bolt of lightning, had devoured the room. Needing to overt their vision from the bolt’s blinding radiance, they had both turned away and covered their eyes from the striking pain. They heard Colt being slammed against the temple room’s rock wall and then silence. The eerie yellow-white light was completely gone.

Now, shouting at their friend to wake, the only light in the dark corridor was from their two flashlights resting on the floor. Neither of them had given a moment’s thought to checking what was on the altar after Colt’s electrocution. The pedestal and its contents were left untouched; their friend’s life was their only concern.

Come on buddy, Dominic pleaded as he continued his crude chest compressions. Hillary gently touched Colt’s forehead and fingered a few strands of his brown hair back into place.

Push harder, she urged Dominic. She remembered from a CPR class long ago, that if ribs weren’t cracking, it wasn’t being done right. Dominic nodded and flattened his hands. He began pushing harder and in turn with a more rhythmic pattern.

Another minute passed. Nothing.

Sweat poured down Dominic’s back and front. The cool recesses of the underground temple were doing little to abate the sheer sense of panic he felt at the possible loss of one of the best people he’d ever known. Regardless of the beginnings of cramps in his arms and the tiring of his muscles, Dominic continued to push.

Out of nowhere, Colt gasped. His lungs swiftly pulled in a breath of fresh new air, mixing it with the old. After his first inhalation, he immediately coughed as his body tried to expel the stale buildup of carbon dioxide left behind. Colt continued coughing and gasping, while Hillary and Dominic pulled him to a more upright sitting position.

Colt’s fingers and toes tingled from their temporary lack of oxygen. His chest ached as though someone had been punching him repeatedly.

Are you okay? Hillary cried as she dove in for a hug.

The man’s heart just stopped, Dominic stated matter-of-factly as he pulled her back. Give him some room. Hillary shot him a quick glare but knew he was right and backed away.

Colt raised his hand into the air and formed a thumbs up. Never felt better, he hoarsely whispered. Another five minutes passed before Colt felt like standing. The tingling of sleep in his extremities eventually subsided, and his breathing was quickly returning to normal. You guys mind giving me a hand?

Dominic and Hillary each grabbed an arm and slowly helped him to his feet. For a few seconds the room swirled as blood flowed out of his head down to his core, leaving him temporarily light-headed. Colt took a long deep breath after standing and exhaled slowly. Except for a bit of a headache and his sore ribcage, he didn’t feel all that bad for having been almost electrocuted to death.

Did either of you check the artifact? Colt asked.

You were dead. What do you think we were doing? Hillary incredulously returned. She folded her arms in annoyance and turned aside.

Ahem, yeah, well thanks guys. I didn’t mean to imply I’m ungrateful or anything; just asking. Colt reached out and placed a warm hand on each of their shoulders and loving squeezed a thank you. Hillary scowled in return, but patted his hand with hers nonetheless.

All three turned to face the darkened middle of the room. Hillary handed Colt his flashlight, turning it on. He moved the beam from the floor to his empty shoes and then to the pedestal, at the sight of which Colt grinned. He had been right, it was a pedestal.

He moved the flashlight slowly up the tiny stone tower. At the flattened top of the small rocky podium sat four legs belonging to a metal stand. Finally, resting atop of the stand was an object, the likes of which Colt and the others had never seen before. The unfamiliar relic at first glance appeared to be made of a dull metal and was now completely devoid of its previous light.

You ever see anything like this before Colt? Dominic asked by his side.

Colt shook his head no. He took another step closer to the foreign object and then another. The best way he could describe the odd piece was thinking that two individually carved lightning bolts had been attached with a horizontal handle in the middle. The metal didn’t appear to be sharp, nor did the blades’ craftsmanship seem to be overly extraordinary, but the length of the entire object was close to six feet long.

Colt reached out to touch the strange blade for the second time.

Whoa, you sure that’s such a good idea there Colt? Isn’t that what you did the last time when it blew you clear across the room? Dominic worriedly asked.

Yeah, but this time it’s not glowing, Colt replied, a little uncertain himself.

Please, at least be careful. Why not touch it with something besides your hand this time? Hillary suggested.

That’s probably not a bad idea, he admitted. Colt looked around the room with his flashlight for something nonliving he could touch the device with. Unlike most other temple rooms, untouched for hundreds of years, this particular chamber was utterly empty except for the pedestal and its treasure in the center of the room.

Not finding a stick or any other long object, Colt took off his baseball cap and crept towards the idol-like stand. Gingerly, he reached out and dabbed the back of his hat against the metal object. Nothing. He then swiped his hat against it harder than before. Still nothing.

Whatever that light was, I don’t think it’s here anymore, Colt said.

Just because that doohickey isn’t glowing like the sun, doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous, Dominic advised.

Colt heard Dom’s statement of caution but had already made his decision. He returned the baseball cap atop his head and took a final step forward, bringing the odd sword-like piece within reach.

With extreme trepidation, Colt inched his extended pointer finger toward the weapon. An inch from the object he stopped. He looked side to side at his companions as Hillary and Dominic had flanked alongside him showing support.

Colt moved his finger closer. Half an inch. A quarter of an inch. With a touch as quick as a viper strike, Colt touched the artifact and withdrew his finger expecting a shock. The situation instantly reminded him of the phrase about insanity his father had taught him years ago. According to his dad, the definition of insanity was trying something again and again under the exact same circumstances and expecting a different result. Well, this time the object wasn’t glowing, and that was different.

The instant Colt’s finger touched the device it pulsed with a beat of energy at the point of contact. The bright golden-white light at first only pulsed from where his finger had touched the object but then spread throughout the weapon like ripples on a pond. However unlike before, the light in the object was gone in an instant; almost as fast as Colt had withdrawn his finger.

Unlike before, this time there had been no pain. Colt had felt strange warmth radiate up his arm at making contact, but that was all. Encouraged by the result and without discussion, he reached out again. Instead of touching the blade, Colt extended the entirety of his hand around the central shaft connecting the two lightning bolt-like blades.

His hand curled around the shaft, but he was careful not to touch it. Colt took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and squeezed. The warmth he had felt before shot up his arm and this time radiated throughout his entire body. There was no pain, only warmth and power. The odd artifact glowed as before, but this time the light did not recede.

Colt opened his eyes and lifted the artifact off its metal stand atop the stone chiseled podium. The intensity of the golden-white light grew in his grasp until it flashed so bright all three of them were blinded for a few seconds. As Hillary and Dominic’s sight slowly returned, their jaws dropped to the floor. Standing in the middle of the temple was Colt holding the strange device, now perpendicular to the floor. Their eyes widened even more as they realized both Colt and the artifact were now pulsing with the strange