Jerusalem — 3:15 P.M.
The heat of the afternoon pressed down on Jerusalem, softening the edges of buildings and casting sharp shadows over the old city walls. Nathaniel Asher made his way westward, the map tucked deep into his satchel, its ink still fresh in his mind.
The streets bustled as usual — merchants calling out their wares, children weaving through the crowd, priests in deep conversation. And yet, to Nate, everything seemed at a slight remove, as though the world around him had slipped half a step sideways.
He turned off the main road and followed the winding path etched in Elias's crude map, moving steadily toward the ancient ruins that lay just beyond the western wall. No one paid him much attention. He looked like any other young priest — robes loose, face calm, sandals worn from prayer walks.
But his heart thudded with urgency.
The first thunder was stirring…
He couldn't forget the sound beneath the crypt. The subtle quake. The scent of dust burning in the air.
He reached the edge of the ruins — sun-blasted stone walls overgrown with brush and centuries of silence. Here, time held its breath. The further he stepped in, the quieter the city seemed behind him. Like the ruins swallowed sound.
The vault was supposed to be hidden beneath a toppled archway. Nate found it easily, just as the map had shown — a slab of stone covered in moss, bearing no inscription. Only three tiny indentations in the surface.
He crouched, brushing it off.
It took effort, but he managed to wedge his fingers beneath the lip of the stone and lift it just enough to catch a whiff of air from below — cool and musty.
He paused, breathing it in. Then he slid the stone aside and descended into the dark.
The air shifted instantly. Below the ruin was a tight spiral of stone steps, ancient and crumbling. He moved carefully, the lantern in his hand casting long, trembling shadows on the walls.
There were no inscriptions here.
No signs of prayer or sacrifice.
Just rock. Earth. Silence.
Then, a chamber.
Wide and perfectly circular. At its center sat a stone dais, no higher than his knee, etched with lines that curved like the grain of wood. Above the dais was a small shaft of sunlight filtering through some crack above — illuminating the space like a spotlight in a theatre.
Nathaniel stepped into the light.
His breath caught.
The dais wasn't carved.
It had grown — crystalized in a spiral, natural but perfect. And at its center lay a single object:
A smooth stone, black as pitch, small enough to fit in his palm.
He reached for it.
The instant his fingers touched it, the air in the chamber shifted — not loud or violent. Just... different.
A faint hum, as though the stone resonated with something deep within him.
He pulled his hand back.
No visions. No thunder. Just... the stone.
Then, the faintest sound: footsteps behind him.
Nathaniel turned quickly, heart racing — but no one was there.
Still, he wasn't alone.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
The voice came from the stairwell.
Calm. Familiar.
A shadow emerged — a man in priest's robes, but with a worn satchel and dust clinging to his hem. His beard was short, dark with streaks of grey. And his eyes, even in the gloom, held an unsettling calm.
Nathaniel stepped back instinctively.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The man smiled gently. "A friend. For now."
"What do you want?"
The stranger walked into the chamber, never crossing the light, as if the shaft of sunlight itself formed a boundary.
"I want you to see," he said. "That's all."
Nathaniel clenched his jaw. "See what?"
The man gestured toward the black stone. "That nothing in this world is buried forever. Not truth. Not judgment. Not even thunder."
Nate's breath caught. "You know about the thunders."
"I know more than you think. And less than I should. That's how it works, doesn't it?"
"Are you one of them?" Nate asked.
The man laughed softly. "One of the thunders?" He shook his head. "No, no. I'm something else entirely."
"Then tell me your name."
The stranger paused at the edge of the light, eyes glinting.
"Not yet."
Then he stepped backward into the shadows and vanished, his footsteps fading like echoes in a cave.
Nathaniel stood alone in the chamber once more, the black stone pulsing faintly with some deep, internal beat — almost like a second heartbeat.
He didn't know what it was.
But he knew one thing:
He was going to find out.