The silent circle

Into the Depths

The weight of the moment lingered as Cleo stared at the old map, its yellowed pages crinkling beneath her fingertips. The Obsidian Key. It sounded like something out of a legend—impossible, yet it was her only hope. She looked up at Aldridge, who now seemed older, worn by the knowledge he held.

"How much time do we have before they realize what we're after?" Cleo asked, her voice steady despite the rising panic within her.

Aldridge's brow furrowed in thought. "Not long. If the Crimson Circle is already tailing you, it won't be long before they suspect your next move. But their methods are subtle—they might let you get close, just to see what you uncover."

Emily shifted nervously beside Cleo, her wide eyes betraying her anxiety. "So, we're basically walking into a trap?"

Aldridge nodded grimly. "Yes, and it's one you'll need to navigate carefully. If they catch wind that you're after the Key, they'll come at you full force."

Cleo felt her pulse quicken. She turned to Emily, expecting fear, maybe hesitation. But instead, she saw a spark of determination in her friend's eyes. "You don't have to do this with me, Em. It's not your fight."

Emily crossed her arms, her voice firm. "Cleo, I've already made my choice. I'm not letting you face this alone. If this is about your parents, then it's about protecting you. We're in this together."

Cleo smiled, grateful but still apprehensive about the danger. Before she could respond, Aldridge interrupted.

"You'll need more than courage to get through this," he said, walking over to a wooden chest by the window. He rummaged through it before pulling out a weathered, leather-bound journal. "This was your father's. He gave it to me shortly before he disappeared. I've kept it safe all these years."

Cleo took the journal with trembling hands, her father's familiar handwriting visible on the first page. It felt like a piece of him had come back to her. She traced her fingers over the faded ink, fighting the rush of emotions welling inside her.

"What's in here?" she asked quietly.

Aldridge took a deep breath. "Everything your parents uncovered about the Crimson Circle. Locations, symbols, names... and the Key. This will guide you through the catacombs. But you must be careful—it's not just the Circle's eyes you need to fear. There are things in those underground tunnels that even the Circle avoids."

Cleo's heart skipped a beat. "What kind of things?"

Aldridge didn't answer immediately, his eyes darkening with something that resembled fear. "Old things. Forgotten things. The catacombs are more than just a resting place for the dead. There are legends of traps, creatures, and ancient magic left to guard what lies below."

Emily's face paled. "Cleo, this is sounding less like a mission and more like a suicide run."

But Cleo's resolve only hardened. "We don't have a choice. If the Obsidian Key is real, it's the only thing that can give us the leverage we need against the Crimson Circle. Without it, we're as good as dead."

Emily sighed, though her face softened with acceptance. "Alright. Let's do this then."

Aldridge handed them a flashlight and a small pouch filled with chalk, a strange combination that made Emily raise an eyebrow. "Mark your path as you go," he explained. "The catacombs are like a maze. You'll need to leave a trail if you want to find your way back."

Cleo took the pouch and nodded. "Thank you, Professor. For everything."

Aldridge hesitated, then placed a hand on Cleo's shoulder. "Your parents would be proud of you, Cleo. But be careful. Once you start down this path, there's no turning back."

With that, Aldridge saw them to the door, the shadows of the campus stretching before them like an ominous invitation. As they stepped out into the cool night air, Cleo clutched her father's journal tightly to her chest. The sense of danger had grown, but so had her determination.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, heading toward the old city district where the entrance to the catacombs supposedly lay hidden. The streets were darker now, the night deeper, more foreboding. Every passing car, every flicker of a streetlight felt like the Crimson Circle's gaze was on them.

Finally, Emily broke the silence. "So, what exactly do you think we'll find down there?"

Cleo shook her head. "I don't know. But whatever it is, it's important enough that my parents risked everything to protect it."

Emily gave her a sidelong glance. "And we're risking everything too, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Cleo admitted softly. "But we're not doing this for nothing."

Emily's mouth twitched into a half-smile. "Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Don't let me get eaten by a catacomb monster or whatever's down there."

Cleo laughed, though the sound was tinged with nervous energy. "I'll do my best."

As they neared the edge of the city, the buildings grew older, more worn. The air here was thick with history, with secrets buried beneath the surface. The old city was almost a relic itself, a place where the past clung to every corner.

They finally stopped at an ancient church, its stone façade crumbling in places, ivy creeping up its walls. According to Cleo's father's notes, this was where the entrance to the catacombs could be found. Somewhere below the church lay the answers they sought.

Cleo swallowed hard, glancing at Emily. "Ready?"

Emily exhaled, looking up at the imposing structure before them. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Together, they pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside. The church was dark, silent, and empty—save for the faint flicker of candlelight near the altar. The air was heavy with dust and the scent of old stone.

Cleo pulled out her father's journal, flipping through the pages until she found the entry she was looking for.

"Here," she whispered, pointing to a rough sketch of the church's interior. "The entrance should be beneath the altar."

They crept forward, their footsteps echoing through the vast, empty space. When they reached the altar, Cleo knelt down, feeling along the stone floor. Her fingers brushed against something—a small, concealed latch.

"Found it," she breathed.

Emily leaned down, peering over Cleo's shoulder. "You're kidding. There's an actual secret passage under the altar?"

Cleo gave a small, nervous smile. "Apparently."

With a deep breath, Cleo pulled the latch. There was a soft click, followed by the grinding sound of stone against stone. Slowly, the altar shifted, revealing a dark, narrow staircase leading down into the earth.

Emily swallowed hard. "This is it, isn't it?"

Cleo nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "This is it."

Without another word, they descended into the darkness, leaving the world above behind.