Roman’s eyes glistened in the candlelight as he gazed at me. “I love you, Olivia, my beautiful, flaming fire. I’m so happy to have found you again.”
“I love you, too, Roman, my handsome warrior. With all my heart.” I squeezed his hand, holding onto the joy of our reunion.
Reluctantly, we turned and continued down the stone steps. I pressed my palm against Roman’s back as I followed him, our single candle lighting the cavernous corridor.
“Stop for a moment,” I whispered. “Lift the light.”
Roman obeyed, and the candle’s glow danced across the rough polygonal masonry.
The walls were adorned with intricate carvings—delicate plants etched into the stone with the same artistry as the illustrations above. Ireached out, examining the carefully sculpted leaves, stems, and flowers, tracing their beauty in the dim candlelight.
“Look,” I whispered. “The Timehunters are obsessed with cataloging and understanding poisonous plants. There are similar illustrations upstairs. They’re so detailed… they look like photographs taken in my time.”
Thick and cloying, a strange mustiness filled the air, growing stronger with each step.
“I wonder if it’s safe to go down here,” I murmured. “What if the air is poisoned?”
“Then we’ll soon be dead,” Roman said dryly. “But why set a trap if this place is supposed to be a secret?”
“You’re probably right.” Still, worry slithered through my stomach.
We continued our descent, our footfalls echoing in the high-ceilinged corridor. Each step sounded like a hammer striking an anvil, the noise unsettling in the oppressive silence. I could only hope the sound didn’t carry to the rooms above.
At the landing, we found ourselves in a catacomb lined with skulls.
The bones were stacked in neat, methodical rows, their hollow eye sockets staring, leering. A shudder crawled up my spine, and my hand flew to my sternum.
“Oh, God,” I breathed. “Roman… these bones—they were once Timebornes or Timebounds. The Timehunters kept them as trophies.” I was overcome with revulsion. “They’re so sick.”
Roman said nothing, but his jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he surveyed the grisly display.
Beyond the rows of grim skulls, an archway loomed at the back of the chamber.
We stepped onto the cool Calacatta marble floor and peered into the circular room beyond. Candlelight lit the vast round table, dominating the center of the space. Along the walls, paintings of plants hung in perfect symmetry—vivid, detailed, eerily lifelike. Unlike the monochrome illustrations upstairs, these were in color, their hues so rich they seemed to pulse in the low light.
“My God,” I murmured. “They’re like the modern-day scientists of my time… only with evil intent.”
“Indeed.” Roman approached the table, his gaze sweeping the room with wary precision.
Centuries pressed down on us, the darkness thick with secrets long buried.
Daggers had been meticulously arranged in a sunbeam pattern across the table’s polished surface. Empty spaces punctuated the design—gapswhere blades should have been. A sickening realization twisted my stomach.
“Maybe those missing knives are on the Timehunters’ wish list.”
The thought made my blood boil.
“One of these must be the Sun Dagger,” I said. “Hold the candle over the table so I can see better.”
Roman lifted the light, and I ran my fingers over the hilts of the knives. Each blade pointed toward the center, where cryptic symbols had been painted in dark ink.
If this had been the twenty-first century, I would’ve pulled out my phone and snapped a picture. But this was sixteenth-century Italy. There was no Google to search cryptic symbols and their meanings—only my memory to rely on.
At the far end of the table, a blade caught my eye.
Tingles spread through my fingers as I traced the sun carved into its hilt.
“I think this is it!” My pulse quickened. “We’ve found the Sun Dagger! It looks like my knife, but bigger. And the script carved into the blade—it’s different.”
