They walked up the stone steps of the island, their flashlights casting narrow beams on the overgrown vegetation. The island was deserted, the local tourist shops shuttered and dark.
At the entrance to the main cave, the air grew freezing cold. The basalt pillars, carved with figures of Shiva, stood like silent sentinels.
"Here," Mr. Desai said, pointing to a dark, narrow crack behind the massive Sadashiva bust. "The Vow's inner chamber is hidden behind the rock face."
Vikram squeezed through the crack first, followed by Rohan and Mr. Desai.
The chamber inside was a perfect circle, the walls carved with ancient symbols of the moon and dagger. In the center of the room lay a shallow pool of dark, thick liquid that didn't reflect their flashlight beams. It was liquid dark matter, identical to the spires they had seen in the Gateway cistern.
"This is the womb of the node," Mr. Desai said, his voice hushed. "The basalt rock concentrates the dark photons. Sit in the center of the ring, Vikram. You must perform the Pranayama—the breathing control—to increase your nervous system's voltage. If you can raise your bio-electric output high enough, you can draw the dark photons into your own nervous system and align them."
Vikram sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, inches from the dark pool. The cold was intense, seeping through his clothes and making his joints ache.
He closed his eyes. He began the deep, rhythmic breathing, focusing on the flow of energy in his body.
*Inhale. Hold. Exhale.*
In his mind, his nervous system appeared as a network of faint blue lines. But the lines were cracked, the blue sparks leaking into the surrounding tissue. The chaotic dark photons from Javed's backlash were still present, blocking the flow.
Vikram focused his will, drawing upon the reserve energy of his heart. The blue lines began to glow brighter, the voltage rising. The blue sparks flared, fighting against the black energy.
"The temperature," Rohan whispered, his teeth chattering as he watched Vikram. "It's... it's dropping to minus ten. There's frost forming on his chest."
Ayan—no, Vikram—felt the cold entering his spine. The dark pool in front of him began to ripple, tiny black droplets rising into the air, drawn to his bio-electric field.