AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I just hold her, rocking slightly, whispering assurances, waiting until her breathing steadies and her heartbeat calms. We stay like that, enveloped in the dim light, anchored by each other's presence.
Finally, she speaks, her voice small and strained. "That was a trap."
I nod, my voice a low rumble of anger and confirmation. "It was."
Tears well up in Selene's eyes, but she staunchly wipes them away before they can fall. Slowly, she pushes herself to a sitting position, her voice steady despite the ordeal.
"Well, we are back at square one."
We both stand, and I grab our backpack of supplies; the weight of it is a solid reminder of our grim reality. I'm not looking forward to navigating back through that first, cramped tunnel. As I adjust the load, a shovel shifts and clatters to the ground, the sound echoing oddly as it hits.
First, stone and earth, then a hollow thud, like wood.
We freeze, exchanging a look. When my flashlight beam catches her eyes, her expression shifts—the fear is gone, replaced by a familiar, resolute spark.
That's my girl.
Together, we cleared the dirt and grime from where the shovel fell, uncovering a wooden door embedded in the floor.
A trap door.
Opening it requires both of us straining against its weight, but the effort pays off. The beam of my flashlight reveals a long, descending tunnel and a very modern, very metal ladder leading downward.
This time, I take the lead, descending first into the unknown. The climb down is lengthy and tense, with just one source of light between us. When we finally reach the bottom, we find ourselves in a tunnel constructed of brick and concrete. It stretches out far longer than any we've encountered so far, and it's too well-built to be anywhere near as ancient as Newgrange.
"This isn't just a tunnel," I mutter, scanning the sturdy walls and the path ahead. "It's a passage, built for purpose, and far too modern for any simple historical site."
We come to another ladder. “I’ll go first,” I say. I start to climb and push the trap door above my head. It opens easily and that makes me suspicious.
As we emerge from the ladder into the simplicity of the house above, the contrast is stark. The space is a modest, all-in-one room—living room, bedroom, and kitchen—coated with a thick layer of undisturbed dust. Sunlight filters through lace curtains, casting intricate shadows on the untouched surfaces. Night has gone since we arrived, and now morning has arrived. The air is thick with the mustiness of disuse.
I walk over to the kitchen sink, peering out the window. In the distance, Newgrange looms, majestic and isolated, separated from us by the shimmering ribbon of the River Boyne. The realization hits me hard—the tunnel went under the river.
Selene moves to my side, her presence a comforting constant. She's pondering, trying to connect the dots.
"I don’t understand. So, I was right? Newgrange is still used by the Kings?" Her voice is a mix of disbelief and validation.
My hand tightens around the flashlight, my eyes fixed on the ancient tomb across the water. "You are right that it is used by the Kings," I acknowledge, "but it isn’t used as a grave."
She turns to face me, confusion etched across her features. "What is the point of all of this, then?" Selene's eyes narrow, processing the harsh truth as it dawns on her. "Why go through all of that?" Her voice betrays a mix of curiosity and outrage, seeking to understand the depth of the deceit we've uncovered.
I lean against the cold kitchen counter, my mind racing as I piece together the motives behind the elaborate scheme. "Because Victor is a liar. The cult is fake," I state flatly, the bitterness in my voice as palpable as the dust in the air.
"The Hands of Kings—they've built this mythology, this mystique around Newgrange and their so-called ancient practices. But it's all a front," I continue, my hand sweeping across the room, gesturing to the ordinary setting that belied the extraordinary secrets hidden just beneath.
Selene steps closer, her determination mirroring mine. "So, they create a narrative, lure in the curious, the scholars, those who get too close to the truth, and then..." Her voice trails off, not needing to finish the thought.
"Exactly," I nod grimly. "It's a trap. An elaborate, well-crafted trap designed to protect their real activities. Whatever they are really up to, it's worth the effort to them to stage all this—stage accidents or disappearances for anyone who might expose them."
Selene crosses her arms, her brain visibly turning over the implications. "This house, the tunnel, the false leads in Michael's office—it's all just part of a larger scheme to mislead and eliminate threats."
I look back out the window at the distant view of Newgrange, feeling the pieces click into place. "And we've just walked straight into it. But now that we know, we have a chance to turn the tables. We need to find out what they're really hiding and expose it."
Selene nods, her eyes reflecting a fiery resolve. "Let's start by going back over everything we've seen and collected. There must be a clue somewhere that leads to their real operations."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Amira
