𝗠𝘆 𝗘𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗲 ⇉ 𝗝𝗝 𝗠𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗸

𝘩 𝘦 𝘢 𝘷 𝘦 𝘯

ARIELLA CLENCHES her fists, forcing herself to focus. The image of JJ and Kie as they disappeared, flickered in her mind.

They were together, and they would be okay.

She had to trust that.

Believe that.

Now, she needed to pull herself together, push aside the fear and uncertainty, and help John B decipher the cryptic scroll.

The weight of their quest presses down on her – they needed to find that crown, not just for themselves, but for everything it represented: their freedom, their future, their very identities.

The Moroccan sun beat down on them with relentless intensity as Ariella, Sarah, Rafe, and John B stood atop the ancient fortress walls.

The heat radiates off the weathered stone, making the air shimmer and the world seem to waver.

But this desolate spot, far removed from the prying eyes of mercenaries, was their sanctuary, their last best hope.

The wind whips around them, carrying the scent of sand and the distant cries of gulls, but their attention was fixed on the weathered parchment in John B's hands.

The fate of their desperate treasure hunt rested on their ability to unlock the secrets hidden within those faded symbols.

"Give me." Ariella says, her voice tight with a mixture of determination and anxiety. She reaches out, taking the scroll from Rafe's outstretched hand.

Carefully, she lowers herself to her knees, the rough stone of the fortress pressing against her skin. She places the ancient parchment on a stack of sun-baked bricks, their surfaces stained with the residue of long-dead fires.

John B knelt beside her, his face etched with a desperate hope that mirrored her own.

Rafe, after taking the magnifying lens from around his neck, hands it to Ariella, the crystal cool against her palm.

"Look, follow the line." Rafe instructs, pointing to a thick, black line etched onto the scroll. "Bring it to your eye."

Ariella did as she was told, her breath catching in her throat as she held the yellow crystal lens to her eye.

Slowly, meticulously, she traces the black line, her gaze unwavering.

The world around her seemed to fade away, the only reality the delicate, faded markings on the ancient parchment.

"Wait." She murmurs, her voice barely a whisper. "That's where we are."

"Mhm." Rafe hums in agreement, bending down to get a closer look. "It doesn't show anything else after that, okay?"

"No, wait. There's writing. It's Arabic." Ariella shook her head slightly, her eyes darting across the faint ink lines that dances across the scroll.

She strains to decipher the elegant script, a language she had only a passing familiarity with, gleaned from countless hours poring over old maps and forgotten books.

A pang of longing shot through her – she missed Big John and his expertise.

It felt like a lifetime ago that he was there with them.

She realizes with a sinking feeling that her knowledge was woefully inadequate; the words were too complex, too nuanced.

"This map is bullshit!" Rafe explodes, his frustration boiling over. He stood abruptly, shaking his head as he began to pace the narrow space. "It's a dead end!"