An entire week had passed, and that lightning outside the ancient tomb was still crackling. The black clouds looked ominous, and the terrible weather got everyone feeling very depressed.
Today finally, under the blind old man's behest, the scoundrels gathered at the altar of the ancient tomb for a meeting.
The altar of the holy tomb was made of gold and was ninety-nine meters wide. All around, there were twelve golden holy monuments, each bearing no words or lettering, and all that was on it was a large eye.
In truth, there was neither a single character nor word found in this entire tomb or even the entire planet that they were on. The only thing carved anywhere was the shape of an eye, whether it was the moss-covered tablet in the forest, or the hanging mural on the cliff walls. This image of the eye was everywhere, yet none of the scoundrels could make sense of it at all or of what it symbolized.
