Max sat in the dim light of his father's old study, his fingers tracing over the wrinkles of scattered notebooks and papers. The air was thick with dust, as if the years had frozen it in time, holding the remnants of Dr. Alexander Cole's genius. The smell of old books and leather hung in the air, combined with the smell of the coffee he hadn't had time to drink earlier.

  His gaze returned again and again to the vacant chair in front of him—the chair his father had occupied and spent hours working on his projects. Max's heart hurt. His father's absence was tangible, a weight in the room that brought back everything he still had yet to do.

  "Why did you have to leave so early, Dad?" Max gasped, hardly being able to speak above the silence.

  Max had been attempting to piece together the shreds of his father's life, examining every notebook, every page that might potentially contain a clue. But it was as if trying to assemble a puzzle without middle pieces. Each day was another in the series of exercises in futility to link the past with the present, as his father once was and as he is now.

  He stood up from behind the cluttered desk, moving in the direction of the big wooden file cabinet. When he swung one of the drawers open, a tiny glint of metal met his eye. At the back of the pile of papers, a secret compartment was concealed in the old desk—a place Max had never seen. He halted, his heart pounding.

  "What's this, Dad?" he grumbled to himself, his trembling hands opening the compartment.

  There was an old leather book inside the compartment. It looked like something had been put in there on purpose, something his dad wanted Max to discover later. Max pulled it out carefully, the pages delicate in his hands.

  He hesitated, looking at the journal. His father's handwriting—neat and familiar, but laced with desperation. Max opened it carefully, reading the pages of scribbled equations, doodles, and mysterious notes that were meaningless to him.

  "What. what is all of this?" Max huffed, scowling as he attempted to unravel the tangled diagrams.

  His father had always been a forward thinker—praised for his unconventional thinking. But these notes? More, beyond the capabilities of modern science. Some of the symbols were unfamiliar to him, and the mathematical formulas were unlike anything he had learned.

  Then his eyes landed on something—a line of writing in bold, hasty letters. The words leapt off the page at him as if written to be a message specifically for Max.

  "The answers lie beneath."

  Max's breath was stuck in his throat. He touched the words, tracing the letters with his fingers. Beneath? What was that supposed to be? His eyes flashed to the drawing that accompanied the words. It was crude, but unmistakable—a representation of a glowing stone, pulsing with energy, its borders rough and gnarled like something otherworldly.

  "A stone? Which stone?" Max breathed, his mind spinning.

  He opened the rest of the journal, his heart thudding. There were drawings, there were equations, but nothing that could tell him what his father had been doing. The journal was not merely recording scientific tests—it was talking about something else, something beyond terrestrial knowledge.

  Max's mind whirled. The sudden arrival of the government agent now made sense. The hints at his dad's clandestine research, the evasive tone they used—it all made sense.

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  "This had nothing to do with science. This was bigger." Max's words shook, fists clenched tightly around the journal. "You knew, Dad. You had something the rest of the world didn't know."

  Max shut his eyes for an instant, the gravity of his discovery dawning. This was not a question of incomplete inventions or faulty models. His father had been on the cusp of something monumental—something that would redefine everything.

  Max could sense it in his own marrow. He had to take this route. He had to discover what had occurred with his father's work.

  "The answers lie beneath." he repeated, his voice tough now, a determination spreading across him. "And I will find them."

  The trip would be dangerous. But Max had already decided. No matter the cost, he would find out the truth, as his father had intended.

  A Sense of Urgency

  Max sat at the desk, the journal lying open before him, the air thick with the burden of his own mind. His fingers flew across the pages, deciphering the coded letters of his father. The words were broken, the writing a little smudged, but the intention was obvious—his father had been keeping something from him. Something significant.

  He read the pages, the words, line by line, pulling him into a world he knew nothing about. His heart began to pound. The mention of "secret locations" and "hidden power sources" awakened something in his mind. He was familiar with these power sources. The government agent had spoken of it vaguely, not quite forcefully enough to pursue, but now, now it all made sense.

  Max leaned in closer, his gaze fixed intently on one sentence, barely readable but not to be missed: "The key lies within the fragment."

  "The fragment," Max said to himself. "Is it the meteorite?"

  His head was reeling. Was this what the agent had spoken of? Was it possible the meteorite his dad had been experimenting with all those years was the source of this power? It sounded ridiculous, like a science fiction novel, but Max knew—in some corner of his mind—this was no accident. His dad had always been ahead of the curve. Maybe too far.

  Max's heart was racing in his chest as he turned the pages in a frenzied motion. The journal wrote of a series of tests, mathematics, and coordinates to a place far out in the middle of nowhere. But what Max was most drawn to were the descriptions of the readings of energy—amazing, off-the-charts highs that no one had ever considered to seek out.

  "This. this could change everything," he panted, struggling to contain the excitement churning within him. "This could be it. This is why Dad never let anyone see his work."

  The idea struck him like a tide. He had always been outside his father's shadow, feeling as though he would never be good enough, never be able to comprehend the magnitude of his brilliance. But now, with this journal in his possession, it was as though his father was beckoning to him from beyond death, calling to him to open the door to the secrets that had been concealed so long.

  Max rose to his feet abruptly, taking in the small apartment with measurements. Frustration and doubt that had once filled the space were exchanged now for something new—purpose. Purpose he hadn't known in years. He could see it now, clear before him. His dad had given him the key to something of proportion, and Max was not going to let it slip away.

  "I just can't just turn a blind eye to this," Max snarled to himself, his tone resolute. "I don't know what will become of me, but I must know. I have to go through with it."

  Max looked down at the journal, his fingers wrapping around the edges of it like a lifeline. There was risk, sure—he could sense it in his bones. The government, the spies—they were all pieces of a larger game, and they would not simply allow him to walk away from it. But for the first time in his existence, Max didn't give a damn.

  "I'll do whatever it takes."

  Max's gaze swept the window. The city beyond it was distant, distant from his mind now. Outside these walls, there was more than he could have ever dreamed of. And he was prepared. Prepared to learn the secrets of his father's labor. Prepared to face whatever perils awaited him.

  For the first time in years, Max Cole knew he was on the brink of something amazing. His father's past no longer weighed him down; it was his destiny.

  He tossed his jacket off the chair behind him and pulled it over his shoulders.

  "I'm coming, Dad," Max whispered, determination in his heart. "I'm going to complete what you began."

  With that, he left the apartment, the journal in his hand, ready to embark on the journey that would alter everything.