John Spart slept very little that night. Shadows moved in Dr. Winters' house, but the whispers of the manuscript pursued him into his sleep. Finally, at dawn, he was relieved but nervy. It was today that the real beginning of their journey would start.
It was morning and John, Professor Jameson, and Dr. Winters sat around a map on the dining table. The first dawn light cast long shadows in the room and lit it with an unearthly glow.
"The first clue, which comes from the manuscript, reveals an old abandoned church on the outskirts of town." He pointed a place on the map. "It's been like that for years, yet word is it's one of the spots where the Order performed their rituals."
John looked at the map and turned around to his companions. "So we start there. What precisely are we looking for?"
"Anything that stands out," Jameson replied, his eyes scanning the area. "Symbols, hidden passages, artifacts. The manuscript pinpointed this church as one of the central places."
Their bags were packed with all the equipment needed: flashlights, notebooks, cameras. They drove out to the old church with precision—a very robot-like discipline—each lost to thought. As they neared the church, John felt a sense of foreboding. The building was ancient, ruinous, and had ivy crawling up its stone walls.
They parked the car and walked to the entrance. The heavy, wooden doors creaked open with a push. The pews were broken, the stained glass windows shattered inside. It was dark and dusty. Smelling of rot hung heavy in the air.
"Stay close," Winters whispered. "We don't know what we might find."
They spread out and began to explore the church. John, himself, was attracted to the altar; there was a large, ornate cross atop it. Getting closer, he noticed that something was odd about the base. He drew them in his notebook.
"Hey, over here, guys. Look at this," he murmured to the rest of the party.
Jameson and Winters advanced on him, bending to scrutinize the symbols. "These are identical to those back in the manuscript," said Jameson. "But what do they mean?"
Winters ran his fingers across the carvings, searching for some kind of mechanism that might be hidden. There came a soft click, and on the altar, a panel revealed a small compartment where there was an old leather-bound book and a piece of parchment.
Slowly, John unrolled the parchment and then unfolded it. It was a map of the tunnels under the town.
"This would explain how the Order moved without being seen," Winters said. "Hopefully, the book holds more clues."
Slowly, John opened the book. The pages were so very brittle with age. There were rituals and symbols—everything one might read about an ancient cult. There were also instructions for locating the Heart of Aether. At the end, though, there was a note that said, "Follow the path of shadows to the heart of darkness."
"What does it mean?" John asked, a chill running down his spine.
"It means our journey has just begun," Winters said. "The tunnels come next."
Turning to leave the church, John felt unseen eyes watching them. Shadows seemed to shift, darkening into a malevolent force that would not let them stand still.
The old, worn-out tapestry had been obscuring the tunnels' entrance, so they drew it aside and noticed a narrow staircase that wound down into the darkness. Taking a deep breath, John went first, his flashlight cutting into the gloom.
The air in the tunnels was cold and wet. Their footsteps reverberated against the walls with a weird sound. Weird pictures lightened up against the walls as they passed by.
"These have been in service almost since centuries," Jameson said. "We have to remain alert."
The farther in they went, the more intensely he felt they were being watched. Shadows flitted along the edges and the whispering grew louder. John could hardly make out any words, but unmistakably they were warnings, or threats.
They came to a side passage in the tunnel, and John consulted the map. "We'd better go to the left," he said, more than a little nervously. "The heart of darkness is this way."
They followed the left path, which led to one large circular chamber. In the middle was one stone pedestal, with one ancient, worn top box. Whispers and murmurings, once reserved for the ominous dark of this underground, now reverberated from the walls.
John stepped up to the pedestal and opened the box. Hands shaking, he saw inside it a small black gem that seemed to engulp every beam of light: the Heart of Aether.
"We found it," John whispered, awed and dreaded.
But before they even had time to react, the shadows surrounding them closed in, and a chill, malevolent presence flooded the chamber. The Order of the Aether had found them.
"We need to get out of here," Winters said urgently. "Now!"
Taking the box, they turned to flee just as the whispers rose to a scream. The tunnel that a moment before had seemed to close in on them somehow pushed them onward, fueled by fear and determination.
They knew it right from the moment they came out of the church and stepped outside into the open—this journey of theirs was far from over. They had got hold of the Heart of Aether, but the actual battle had only just begun. But the shadows of the past did not let go so easily.