Rising From Ashes: My Reincarnated Love

The advance team gathered at the massive stone staircase leading underground. A freezing, foul wind howled out of the black opening.

Julian pulled on a pair of black tactical gloves. He clicked on a high-lumen flashlight. The intense white beam pierced the absolute darkness below.

Dr. Thorne stood at the top of the stairs with a clipboard. He began calling out the names of the first group allowed inside.

Frank Peterson and Dr. Leo Hayes stepped forward, checking their radio earpieces.

Dr. Thorne looked at his list. "Cora Foster. You're with the first group."

Chloe crossed her arms and glared. "Dr. Thorne, it's dangerous down there. Foster has zero field experience. She's going to be a liability."

Julian slowly turned his head. His cold, dead eyes pinned Chloe in place. "I don't recall asking for your opinion," he said, his voice dropping the temperature in the air. "Do not question the roster again."

Chloe's mouth snapped shut. All the color drained from her face. She took a quick step backward into the crowd.

Cora gripped the straps of her backpack. She stepped out of the group and walked to the front, stopping two paces behind Julian.

Julian didn't look back. He turned and started down the moss-covered stone steps. Cora followed his broad shoulders.

As they descended, the natural light vanished completely. The only illumination came from the erratic sweeping of their flashlights.

The air grew thick. It smelled heavily of ancient mold and a sickeningly sweet, decaying perfume.

Cora's breathing hitched. The smell was identical to the dirt that had filled her lungs in her nightmare. The sensation of being buried alive crashed into her brain.

Her vision blurred. Her heavy boot caught the edge of a loose, broken stone step.

Cora pitched forward into the darkness. A short, terrified gasp ripped from her throat.

Julian reacted with terrifying speed. He spun around and shot his hand out. His large, gloved hand clamped down hard on Cora's elbow, stopping her fall instantly.

Even through the thick fabric of her jacket, Cora felt the intense, burning heat of his grip.

Julian's flashlight beam swept up and hit her face. "Watch your step," he ordered, his voice a low rumble in the tight space.

In the harsh glare of the flashlight, the hair fell away from Cora's face. Julian got a clear, unobstructed view of the jagged, angry burn scar covering her cheek.

His eyes stopped moving. For half a second, he just stared at the ruined flesh. His dark eyebrows drew together in a microscopic frown. It wasn't disgust or pity that crossed his features, but a jarring, inexplicable flash of recognition. He stared at the jagged lines as if they were an ominous echo of a forgotten nightmare, a phantom ache suddenly registering in his own chest.

Cora felt like she'd been burned again. She violently yanked her arm out of his grip. "Sorry," she whispered, looking at her boots.

Julian dropped his hand. He didn't say another word. He turned around and continued down the stairs, though his pace was noticeably slower.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and walked through a long, arched corridor. Suddenly, the space opened up into a massive main chamber.

All the flashlights converged on the center of the room, cutting through a century of darkness.

A massive, intricately carved stone pedestal sat in the middle of the floor.

Resting on top of the pedestal was a flawless, gleaming mahogany casket.

Dr. Leo Hayes let out a low whistle. "Good God. The wood hasn't rotted at all."

Frank Peterson immediately started barking orders, having the crew set up portable LED work lights around the perimeter.

The bright lights clicked on, illuminating the faded Victorian murals on the walls.

Cora stared at the mahogany casket. Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm against her ribs. A heavy, suffocating sense of destiny wrapped around her throat.