The Gravity of Tomorrow
Copyright© 2026 by Sci-FiTy1972
Chapter 5: The Ruins That Shouldn’t Exist
The port in Mexico greeted them with noise.
Vendors called out from every corner, music spilled from open doorways, and the air carried the layered scents of salt, spice, and exhaust. The cruise group gathered near a line of waiting buses, sunglasses on, cameras ready, voices full of that easy excitement people had when history felt like entertainment.
Ty stood just outside the circle, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. He watched the movement around him the way he always did—tracking patterns, noting exits, reading the rhythm of a place that wasn’t his.
Ann stood beside him, tugging lightly at the brim of her hat as she looked up at the sky.
“Feels different here,” she said.
“Different how?” Ty asked.
She considered. “Like the air remembers things we forgot.”
Ty glanced at her, surprised. “That’s ... oddly specific.”
Ann smiled. “Occupational hazard. You spend enough time listening to people’s stories, you start believing places have them too.”
They boarded the bus with the rest of the group, settling into seats near the middle. As the city faded behind them, replaced by open road and stretches of scrub and stone, Ty felt the familiar pull in his gut again—that quiet sensation of standing near the edge of something he couldn’t yet see.
He touched the necklace under his shirt without thinking.
The jewel felt ... warm.
Not hot.
Not cold.
Alive.
The bus rolled to a stop near a wide clearing bordered by low stone walls and scattered ruins. The tour guide—a man with a sun-worn face and an enthusiastic voice—stood at the front, gesturing toward the landscape.
“Welcome to one of the lesser-known archaeological sites in the region,” he said. “Most people go for the big names, the grand temples. But this place...” He spread his hands. “This place is older. And stranger.”
Ty stepped off the bus and felt it immediately.
Not danger. Not fear.
Weight.
The kind that pressed against your senses, making you aware of every breath you took.
The ruins weren’t dramatic. No towering pyramids. No elaborate carvings. Just stone—weathered, uneven, half-buried by time. But the layout felt intentional in a way that set Ty’s nerves on edge. The lines didn’t follow the logic of any civilization he knew. The spacing felt too precise for something this old.
Ann walked beside him, quieter than she’d been all morning.
“You feel it too,” Ty said.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
They moved with the group as the guide explained theories—early settlements, lost cultures, guesses stacked on guesses. But Ty barely heard a word. His attention was fixed on the way the stones seemed to curve inward, as if the ruins were arranged around a center point that no one had marked.
With every step closer, the necklace grew warmer.
The black jewel drank in the sunlight like a wound in the day.
Ty slowed.
Ann noticed instantly. “Ty?”
“I think...” He stopped, searching for words. “I think this place is more than it looks like.”
Ann studied his face. Whatever she saw there made her nod instead of question.
“Then we should be careful,” she said.
They drifted slightly from the group, staying close enough not to draw attention, but far enough that the noise of tourists faded into a distant murmur.
Ty felt his pulse quicken—not with fear, but with recognition.
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