Souls Through Time (EzioxOC/DesmondxOC)

Chapter 20 - Claire

The Assassins stepped out of the van, one by one, into the biting cold air, each adjusting their gear with an unspoken sense of purpose. Claire followed in silence, her gaze flickering between her teammates, noting the tension in their faces. Her eyes lingered on Desmond, watching him as he stood at the cave's entrance, his posture stiff, his face drawn. He looked as if he were bracing himself, gathering the last reserves of his strength to face whatever lay inside. A part of her wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but she knew better. Desmond was carrying enough weight as it was; adding hers to it now would only make things harder for him.

"Let's move," William said, his voice sharp and unwavering. Claire felt a surge of irritation at his tone, but she kept her expression neutral, stepping into line behind the others as they made their way into the cave. The shadows swallowed them, the damp chill seeping into her bones as they followed the winding passage, each step taking them further from the surface, from the safety of the light.

Desmond led the way, his every movement focused, precise. As they reached the first door—a massive, weathered stone covered in faded graffiti and strange, old symbols—he pulled the Apple of Eden from his pocket. Its glow cast a strange, greenish light across his face, making him look almost otherworldly, like one of the figures she'd seen painted on the walls. She watched as he pressed the Apple into a shallow impression in the door, feeling a faint tremor underfoot as the mechanisms within stirred to life. The door groaned open, revealing a narrow, sloping corridor that stretched downward into darkness.

Desmond slipped through, and Claire followed, ducking under the low stone arch, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Shaun muttered something under his breath, a quote she recognized from Alice in Wonderland: "In another moment, down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again."

It was fitting, Claire thought. This place felt like another world, something out of a nightmare, with walls that seemed to close in as they walked deeper into the earth, the weight of the stone pressing down from above. When they reached the second door, Desmond lifted the Apple again. This time, the glow seemed to pulse, as though the artifact itself recognized its destination.

As the door opened, the Temple chamber unfolded before them, vast and silent, filled with shadows and strange, shifting lights. The carvings on the walls seemed to dance in the Apple's glow, alive in a way that defied reason. Claire took a step inside, feeling a strange chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. This place felt... aware.

She followed Desmond as he approached the center of the room, where a small, glowing cube sat nestled within a power bank. He lifted it, his movements almost reverent, then inserted it into a slot on a stone bench. The entire room seemed to respond, flooding with light as energy rippled across the walls, igniting symbols and mechanisms that had lain dormant for centuries. At the far end of the chamber, a great door formed of solid, shimmering light began to glow, casting an eerie radiance over the room.

And then, Claire heard it—a voice, soft and spectral, whispering through the air like a faint breeze.

"...the key... you must... find... the key..."

Her blood ran cold as she glanced at Desmond, noticing the change in his face, a distant look overtaking his eyes. It was as if he'd seen something beyond them, something none of the rest could perceive. His body stilled, caught in the grip of some unseen force, and Claire felt her heart skip, a jolt of instinctive fear warning her that something was wrong. She took a step forward, her hand reaching out instinctively, fingers grazing his arm as if to anchor him back, to ground him in the present.

But Desmond's gaze was empty, glazed over, as though he were lost in a memory too deep to climb out of. His face tightened, a faint line forming between his brows as he strained against the invisible pull, his body swaying with the effort. His shoulders slumped forward, the muscles in his neck and jaw tensing as he staggered, his balance faltering as though the very ground beneath him had slipped away.