The climb back up the spiral stairs felt endless. Every footfall rang against the narrow stone walls. Kira held the torch high—the flame flickered, throwing unsteady light across the passage and making shadows twist ahead of us. I kept the wooden box pressed close to my side. Jade stayed right behind me—her breathing sharp and uneven, one hand occasionally reaching out to steady herself against my back.
No one spoke. The only sounds were our steps, the faint drip of water somewhere in the walls, and the low roll of thunder far above.
Kira paused at the top. Hand on the iron ring of the side door. She listened—head tilted, eyes narrowed. Rain still fell outside, softer now, a steady patter on leaves and gravel. She eased the door open an inch. Cool air slipped in, carrying the scent of wet soil and pine needles. She scanned the churchyard—dark outlines of headstones, tangled hedges, the weak glow of a streetlamp beyond the gate.
"No one in sight," she said quietly. "We move fast."
We stepped out. Mist clung to our clothes immediately. Kira pulled her hood up. I shifted the box to my other side. The weight pressed harder now—not just the wood and iron, but something deeper, like it carried every unspoken truth Dad had buried.
Jade glanced back at the church once. "We just walk away with it?"
Kira shook her head. "Not yet. The main crypt has a deeper chamber. Your father's note mentioned the key. We find the entrance first."
I pulled the small metal key from around my neck. It caught the faint streetlamp glow—plain, old, a single notch cut into the blade. "Where do we look?"
Kira nodded toward the rear of the building. "Behind the altar. Small room where they kept robes. There's a floor stone under the cabinet. Easy to miss unless you know to look."
We crossed the yard quickly—keeping low, hugging shadows. Gravel shifted under our shoes. Mist thickened, beading on skin and hair. The back door stood slightly open—same silent mechanism as the crypt entrance. Kira pushed it wider. Inside smelled of aged timber, faint smoke, and stone.
The main hall lay dark. Thin shafts of moonlight slipped through high windows, painting colored streaks across the pews and floor—crimson, sapphire, pale gold. We moved to the front. The altar was plain—wooden table, single cross, nothing ornate.
Behind it, a narrow door led to the small side room. Kira struck a match. Flame caught on a wall bracket. Warm light spread slowly.
The room was cramped—tall cabinet against one wall, shelves of folded cloth, a single wooden chair. Kira gripped the cabinet and slid it aside. Wood scraped against stone with a low groan.
Beneath it—a square flagstone. No handle. No obvious seam. Only the Templar cross carved shallow into the surface.
I knelt. The key fit perfectly—slid into a hidden groove I hadn't noticed until metal touched stone. A soft click. Then grinding. The stone dropped a fraction, then shifted sideways into the floor.
A dark opening appeared. Stone steps descending. Cold air rose—damp earth, old iron, something ancient and still.
Kira lifted the torch from the bracket. "Stay close. No noise."
We descended single file. The steps were steep, worn smooth in the middle. The air grew colder with every step. Torchlight barely reached the walls—rough stone, faint markings almost erased by time.
At the bottom the passage widened into a low room. Arched ceiling. Empty iron holders on the walls. In the center—a heavy iron door set into the far wall. The same cross as before, larger, silver inlay still bright after centuries.
I stepped forward. The key turned smoothly in the lock. No resistance.
The door swung inward on silent hinges.
Beyond—shelves lined the walls. Leather books. Rolled scrolls. Locked metal cases. Ancient weapons—swords, daggers, a crossbow that looked untouched for generations. In the middle of the room, on a low stone stand—a single item under thick glass.
A book. Thick. Dark leather cover. No title. Only the Templar cross, larger than any I'd seen, set with a single red gem at the center.
Kira's breath caught—quiet, almost reverent.
"That's the Codex," she said. "The order's full record. Every name. Every oath. Every hidden relic they've ever protected. If your father kept it here… he was guarding it personally."
Jade stepped closer. "What does that mean?"
"It means whoever took him wants this more than anything," Kira said. "With the Codex they could locate every safe house, every vault, every remaining bloodline tied to the order. They could dismantle us completely."
I reached for the glass cover. Lifted it slowly. The book felt warm—unnaturally warm—through the leather. I opened it to the first page.
Dad's handwriting—recent.
If you've reached this, I'm gone or captured. The Codex must not fall into their hands. Burn it if you must. Better destroyed than used against what we've guarded.
But if you keep it—know this: the ring on your finger is the only thing that can seal it again. Use it carefully. The order is broken. Trust only those who earn it.
One last note: the vault beneath Nevergreen Terrace. My final refuge. If you're reading this, go there next. Everything I couldn't tell you is waiting.
I closed the book. Handed it to Kira.
She took it like it carried the weight of centuries. "We can't leave it here."
Jade looked at me. "What now?"
I glanced around the room—shelves of secrets, weapons untouched for generations, a legacy I never asked for.
"We take it," I said. "Everything we can carry. And we go to the house. Dad left one more place."
Kira nodded. Began collecting what we could manage—journal, small locked cases, the Codex wrapped in a thick cloth from one of the shelves.
Then the sound came.
Distant at first. A low rumble. Engines. More than one.
Kira froze. "They've found us."
Footsteps outside—boots on gravel. Voices—sharp, coordinated.
Jade's eyes widened. "They're here."
Kira moved to the door. Sword already in hand—drawn from inside her jacket. "Back way out. Through the old sacristy passage. It leads behind the cemetery. Run when I say."
I looked at Jade. She nodded—scared, but steady.
Kira stepped into the corridor first. Torch raised. Sword ready.
The footsteps grew louder. Closer.
A voice echoed down the stairs—cold, commanding.
"Spread out. They're inside. No one leaves alive."
Kira glanced back at us once.
"Run."
We ran.