The deeper John Spart led into the tunnels, the colder it got. The light from his flashlight cast an eerie flicker on the stone walls ahead, slimy with damp. The steps of Professor Jameson and Dr. Winters came carefully, quietly, as they followed behind. The weight of the Heart of Aether, now relocated in John's backpack, did little to deter from the growing pressurizing feeling they were being watched—all the more since they had taken the artifact.
"We need to get going out of here quick," Winters whispered to the others as his voice echoed softly in the tunnel. "The longer we stick around, the more at risk we are."
John nodded, but that glinting thought still stood. Of course, the manuscript does promise danger, but it never told him about traps they narrowly avoided. Already is the Order watching their every move? He turned to face Jameson. He had been most silent of all; his face was taut.
The tunnel sloped downward, its walls tucking in closer, its air more stifling. Symbolist light emanated from the markings etched into the stone, bathing them in eerie shadows that seemed to writhe about the walls. Indeed, as if the very tunnel lived, this dark energy pulsed, crawling across his skin.
"We're close," Winters said, his eyes skimming over the symbols. "These markings indicate we're hitting the central chamber—the heart of the Order's power. But keep sharp; the closer we get, the more dangerous it becomes."
Suddenly, the tunnel forked into three paths: each one darker and more foreboding than the last. John pulled out the map and tried to decipher which route was correct, but the symbols were different, unfamiliar.
"This wasn't in the manuscript," John muttered, his brow furrowing. "It's like the tunnel's changed."
"It's a trick," Jameson said softly, his voice straining unusually. "The Order doesn't want us to reach the heart. They're trying to confuse us."
Winters regarded the paths, his expression grim. "It's more than that. The Order knows we're here. They're manipulating the tunnels. We need to choose carefully, or we could end up lost—or worse."
After a moment of tenseness, they opted for the middle one as it was the one at the end with the faint light glow. He walked and walked, and John couldn't help feeling something was wrong as he did. The light ahead started glowing brighter and much too bright for a tunnel this deep underground. He felt a surge of unease as they approached the end of the path.
The light was nearly blinding as they emerged into a larger chamber. It was not natural light that he had been hoping for but some sort of unnatural pulsating light that cast down long shadows, which wiggled on their own accord.
"Welcome," a deep, resonating voice bounced off the chamber. The trio spun around, peering into blackness trying to locate its source. Slowly from the shadows, a figure emerged, clad in black robes, a hood covering their face. Only a pair of red-glowing eyes showed.
"Order of the Aether," Winters hissed, stepping before John protectively. "We need to go, now."
His chuckle came out very coldly, as if icicles were laughing at him. "You think you can run? You are too deep already—the Heart of Aether belongs with us, and it shall be returned to its rightful place."
Jameson stepped to the front, his shaking hand making his movement jittery. "We're not leaving without it. You've done enough damage with this fixation of yours. This has to end now."
The figure's eyes narrowed. "Ah, but it's not the artifact we're after, is it, Jameson?"
John's heart missed a beat. "What is he talking about?
Jameson didn't say anything, his face said it all. Winters seized John's arm, yanking him back. "We've been sold out," he whispered urgently. "Jameson was working with the Order.".
Before John could even react, Jameson had whipped a knife out of his coat and thrown himself on Winters. Barely was John able to process this scene. The sense of betrayal hit him like a block of concrete, yet instinct kicked in as he shoved Jameson sideways, the knife clattering to the ground.
"Run!" Verdurin bellowed at John, shoving him towards the exit. Suddenly, the other figures in the chamber, orbs in their hands, but now with eyes aglow from this same sinister light, poured from the darkness and everything got turned into chaos.
John shuddered back and forth with indecisions to make: run or stay.
"Run!" Winters shouted again and, holding them at bay with a length of broken stone, pressed John forcefully towards the exit with the other. "Get out of here!"
John sprinted for the tunnel as his heart pounded in his ears; from behind him in the chamber, he heard struggling sounds and wanted to turn around to help Winters, but he knew that with a delay, it would mean doom for them both.
Murmurs had risen to an increasing urge to pull him back as he dashed through the tunnel. It was like the darkness closed in worse and the whispers grew louder, more insistent. It was as if the very tunnel had come alive against him.
Just as he thought he couldn't take another step further, the tunnel opened out and deposited him into the basement of the church. Charging through the secret opening, he slammed it behind him, collapsing to the ground as he looked up towards the ceiling in fits of tired gasping.
For one second, he could hear his ragged breathing. Then he realized what had happened: Jameson had sold them out; the Order was nearer than ever, and Winters was still downstairs, fighting with all he had.
John knew he could not stay inside the church. With a zeal greater than before, the Order, now more than ever, would hunt to repossess the Heart of Aether. He had to keep moving, find someplace safe to fall back, and work out what was to be done next.
As he stumbled out of the church into the nipping night air, he felt all of a sudden so very alone. Enough that the betrayal shook him to the very core and yet not enough to stop him on his course; after all, he still had his own possession of the Heart of Aether and so, the Order could never stop hunting him down.
He needed to be sharper, quicker, harder-bitten. And the bet was now against time.