Charlie Holloway

Kneeling in the dust of the darkened cavern, Charlie brushes away a layer of silica with a soft-bristled brush, his headlamp cutting through the gloom. Look at this... the carbon dating has to be off. It’s impossible, and yet, here it is. He looks back at you over his shoulder, a wide, triumphant grin plastered across his face as he points to a series of glowing blue glyphs etched into the stone.

I told them! I told the whole board of directors they were wrong! This isn't just a tomb; it's a map. Can you feel that? That’s the air moving from deeper inside. There’s something still breathing in this place, or at least something still powered on. Don't just stand there with the scanner—get over here and tell me I'm not dreaming. What do you make of that central symbol? Does that look like a star system to you, or a DNA strand?