CHAPTER 65: THE HUNT FOR AEGIS

All night, rain hammered the rooftops of Constantinople. When morning came, the city gleamed beneath a heavy sky. Water pooled on every marble street, and the air smelled clean, scoured by the storm. Inside the palace, the quiet had a weight to it, as if secrets lingered in the shadows, left over from the night.

Constantine did not rest. Instead, he studied maps and records, reading old travelogues and copying the runes from the relic again and again. With each passing hour, he pieced together the scattered clues: tales of monks who vanished, villages that whispered of forbidden caves, strange lights in the hills. No single map gave an answer, but every story pointed toward the borderlands of ancient Phrygia-a region where law ended and legend began.

As soon as daylight edged the clouds, Constantine gathered his most trusted men. Valerius arrived first, his face marked by scars and silence. Valentinus followed, alert despite the fatigue in his eyes, holding a stack of papers and half-burned letters. Marcus came last, ready and watchful as always.

Constantine wasted no time. "We have a target-Aegis, a sanctuary hidden in the Phrygian hills," he said, laying the parchment flat. "The legends mention lost monasteries, healing springs, and caves that outsiders fear. I want it found before anyone else suspects what we’re after."

Valerius inclined his head. Valentinus replied, "I have seven men prepared. No one with ties to the Senate or Church. Just soldiers and engineers who know how to keep quiet."

"Perfect," Constantine said. "Marcus, keep our movements discreet. Tell the city’s commanders the emperor is inspecting eastern fortresses. Nothing more."

The group made their plans swiftly and left the palace before sunrise. They wore the plain tunics and boots of traveling officials, not the robes of state. Their faces were set, their eyes scanning every shadow as they rode out through the city’s great gates.

Constantine said nothing to Helena, but as they departed, he glimpsed her at a high window. She watched in silence, her gaze sharp and steady, as if she understood the gravity of the journey.

Their path took them across swollen rivers and muddy roads. Each day the land grew wilder-forests pressed in close, and ruined temples appeared beside overgrown tracks. At night, they set camp among the trees, where Constantine pored over Valentinus’s collection of old stories and faded maps.

"The pattern is always the same," Valentinus murmured one evening as they sat beside the fire. "People vanish. Blue lights are seen above the caves. In the reign of Marcus Aurelius, a cohort disappeared. The records say the monks there practiced forbidden rites and the caves were sealed."

Valerius traced the route with his finger. "No Roman will go there now. Locals call it the Sanctuary of Silence."

Constantine listened, eyes narrowed in thought. "We start at dawn."

That night, sleep was thin. Constantine dreamed of endless halls and cities drowned in red light, of the relic and the cross circling in darkness, always just beyond his grasp. He woke with a sense of foreboding that sharpened his resolve.

At first light, the group rode into the hills, guided by a shepherd’s daughter who led them to a gully half-hidden by brambles. "The cave is there," she whispered. "No one goes inside. Strange things happen after dark."

They thanked her and entered the mouth of the cave, their torches throwing long shadows on the damp stone. The entrance was narrow, the air cool and sharp, filled with the smell of ancient earth.

The party moved single file. The torchlight caught marks on the walls-spirals, knots, and lines that no one recognized. The tunnel twisted and turned, sometimes so tight they had to duck and shuffle sideways.

Soon, the passage widened. Smooth stone stretched beneath their boots, and rows of shallow alcoves lined the walls, each holding carvings of symbols and faces that seemed almost to watch as they passed. Valentinus paused, his voice a whisper: "These aren’t Roman, nor Greek. They belong to a time long before."

The corridor sloped gently downward, and with every step the air seemed thinner. A faint tremor ran through the floor, as if the stone itself vibrated with hidden energy.

Moving deeper, they found a low hall where the carvings became more elaborate. Here, entire stories played out in relief-figures raising their hands, shapes in the sky, processions circling a threefold knot. The party’s torches flickered, and each breath seemed loud in the dense quiet.

The silence here was not peaceful. It pressed in from every side, as if the cave itself waited for them to make a mistake.

Water dripped somewhere out of sight, and the darkness swallowed up the sound almost as soon as it started. Time slowed. Every step felt as if it took them further from the world above and closer to the core of the earth.

Finally, after a long walk in darkness and silence, the tunnel opened into a round chamber. The ceiling arched high overhead. Opposite the entrance, three alcoves held stone chests, each one marked by the triple-knot that matched the base of the relic. The party halted, wary.

A low vibration began to pulse through the floor. The torches flickered, and a chill swept the chamber.

From the farthest alcove, a figure stepped out, cloaked and hooded. The stranger’s face was lost in shadow. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but it carried through the room. "You seek the secrets kept by silence. Many have come before, but few have found the courage to claim them."

Constantine answered, clear and unflinching. "I am no thief and no supplicant. I seek knowledge buried for too long. If there is a price, I will pay it."

The figure regarded him for a moment, then gestured to a stone basin set before the alcove. "To enter, you must drink. Those unworthy will lose themselves in the silence forever."

Without hesitation, Constantine stepped forward and drank. The water was colder than ice, sharp with a taste he could not name. Images flooded his mind-battles, ruins, voices speaking forgotten words, a pattern written in logic and light.

When the vision faded, he stood taller, his mind clear. "We go forward," he said.

The figure nodded. "The sanctuary opens to those who accept the price."

They followed their host through a narrow doorway, leaving the torch-lit chamber behind. Ahead, the secrets of the Sanctuary of Silence waited-older than empires, waiting for the one bold enough to claim them.