Secrets of the Past

The dim café offered an illusion of safety, but Henry could still feel his pulse racing. Mara spread her maps across the table, muttering to herself as she cross-referenced details on her phone. The tension between them hung thick, a silent reminder of the danger clawing at their heels.

Henry leaned back in his chair, his fingers absently brushing the satchel. “You said you’ve been fighting the Order for years,” he began cautiously. “What made you start?”

Mara paused, her hand hovering over one of the maps. For a moment, she didn’t answer, her eyes fixed on a distant point only she could see. Then, she sighed. “My father,” she said finally. “He was an archaeologist. A brilliant one. He dedicated his life to uncovering the past, but the Order...they used him.”

Henry frowned. “Used him how?”

“They funded his expeditions,” Mara explained, her voice tight. “They told him he was preserving history, but all they cared about were the artifacts tied to the Abyss. When he found something they couldn’t control...” She trailed off, her jaw tightening.

Henry didn’t need her to finish the sentence. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Mara shrugged, but her eyes betrayed her pain. “I was only sixteen. I didn’t understand what was happening then. But I made a promise—to stop them, no matter the cost.”

She shifted her focus back to the maps, her voice hardening. “And now, here we are. That manuscript is the closest they’ve ever come to achieving their goal. If we don’t figure it out first, everything my father sacrificed will mean nothing.”

Henry let her words sink in, the enormity of their situation pressing down on him. He reached into the satchel, pulling out the manuscript again. “So, where do we start?”

Mara’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Now you’re thinking like a survivor.”

She pointed to the manuscript’s final page, the one marked with the glowing spiral and surrounding runes. “This is the key. These symbols match constellations—the alignment we talked about earlier. But it’s not just about the stars. Look here.”

She traced her finger over a faint sketch in the corner of the page. It depicted a stone archway, its surface etched with the same spiral symbol.

“It’s not just a map to the Abyss,” Mara said. “It’s a map to a specific gateway. These things aren’t random—they’re scattered across the world, hidden in plain sight.”

Henry studied the sketch, his mind racing. “And this gateway...where is it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Mara replied, flipping through her maps. “The symbols on this page aren’t just constellations—they’re also coordinates. If I’m right, it’s somewhere in Eastern Europe. Maybe Romania. But I need time to pinpoint it.”

Before Henry could respond, the bell above the café door chimed softly. He looked up, his breath catching as two men in dark suits entered, their eyes scanning the room.

Mara froze, her hand slipping toward her jacket. “Don’t look at them,” she hissed. “Keep your head down.”

Henry obeyed, his heart hammering in his chest. The men exchanged a few words with the barista before one of them turned toward their corner.

“They’re here,” Mara whispered, her voice razor-sharp. “We need to move. Now.”

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