15th July 2009, Monday, 16:47

The vaults under the Gar-Ghoul's cave

Rouen, France

Well, so Peter stayed with us after all. I didn't manage to push him subtly into some side corridor and block the exit accidentally. What a pity. What are we dragging him with us for if he doesn't even know any spell and when he finally wants to be useful, activates a trap he has been warned about?!

I catch short, shallow breaths after I somehow landed away from the precipice opening under our feet. In which our acclaimed klutz has just fallen. No, I'm not talking about Peter now, only about Lok. It seems that after few moments of positive surprises, he comes back to his normal self, because, obviously, he didn't manage to jump away from the trapdoor in the right time and now he is falling onto the sharp spikes baring their teeth down there.

'NOOOOO!', Sophie yells, but of course she's not doing anything to help him. Ah, so it's survival of the fittest. OK, so I won't blurt out catching him.

Lok's scream echoes in the narrow space.

'Faster, Lok, you're not going to make it!', Cherit hurries him up. He won't make it with what? With turning himself into a sieve?

I have to move aside when a winged spot shots up from behind the closing hatch, almost knocking me off, and lands on the wooden jetty hiding the trap.

'Yes! You've done it!', Cherit shouts to the boy kneeling on the floor; he's entwined with Kipperin's tentacles. Well, well, so he's tamed him fully if he has summoned him in such a dire situation. He apparently doesn't have enough power left for anything else, because after fulfilling his duty, the Titan returns to the amulet.

'Close call, Lok', Dante comments, observing Lambert as he shakes lightly and breaks out in a cold sweat. Yeah, as if the kid didn't notice that he had almost been pierced like a shashlik.

'I'm sorry, mister Vale', Peter speaks up in a confused manner, 'I didn't know…'

Oh well, I also didn't think that turning on the flashlight would put us in grave danger. The guide is justified in some way.

'Relax, I know you're not a Seeker', Dante throws in. Yeah, it's easily noticeable. 'You've got no idea what you're getting yourself into…'

'You know, I think the same thing could be said for Lok', Sophie comments mockingly. As if she had already forgotten that she was the first one to squeal when he was in danger. A split personality or what?

'Hey, show some respect!', the boy bridles at that remark, which helps him win over the fear and stand up finally on his lightly trembling legs. 'I dealt with it! I mean, I'm still alive, right?!'

Sophie doesn't pay attention to him anymore. If Lambert wants to win her attention, I recommend him getting into another trouble. It definitely works. Or he can eventually grow a beard, put on a trashy coat and work out for some more muscles, because now Sophie is goggling at Dante, doe-eyed.

'Dante, why did Peter's flashlight activate the trap when your spell didn't?', she wonders, waiting for her guru's answer.

Right, I'm also interested in it. As well as how he knew there was a trap here… One stare and he had already judged it. It was pretty cool. Though in the light (pun unintended) of his last failures and mistakes, it didn't explain how he had become the best Foundation Seeker.

'Boltflare is a magical light. I passed by because only Seekers are permitted here', Vale enlightens her with a smile of self-content.

Shame, I wanted to see if his duster could be used as a parachute. Or a hang-glider.

'Why is that?', Lok marvels at it, following his teacher, who actually examines the door visible in front of us.

'Well, my guess: this place is a secret base for Seekers of centuries past', Dante states, opening it for us.

Another covert chamber? I start to suffer a surfeit of austere, cold places where the drafts gust and the cobwebs hang down right in front of our faces, so anyone can turn into Spiderman in the least expected moment. Didn't medieval Seekers really have a negligible need for some warmth, coziness and a touch of luxury? I don't expect Persian rugs, but a fireplace or at least a climatic torch would be perfect here. Unless the whole cash designated for the decorations went for the marble sculptures and old paintings.

'Is that Joan of Arc?', Sophie stares at one of them. Despite the flaked paint and a layer of dust covering the canvas, a woman in a halo of light commanding a group of soldiers can be recognized.

'She must've been the last Seeker to use this hideaway', Dante states, approaching an altar standing far in the chamber; it sticks a mile. You know, it's located vis-à-vis the entrance, on the platform, and it is the only piece of furniture the Maid of Orleans tempted to have. Such self-indulgence! I suppose that when she wanted to chill out a bit after mortal campaigns, she whipped herself while kneeling on hot embers. Masochists are a mystery to me, but I'm not here to judge weird fantasies.

'So Joan of Arc was a Seeker?', Lok can't believe it.

'Well, if she was a Seeker with a special Titan… or power, that would explain the visions she had that supposedly told her the future', Peter thinks out loud; not having anything better to do, he follows me like a shadow. Great. I preferred when Sophie has looked after him.

'One of the most powerful women in all of history…', the girl whispers in awe. 'She died just a few miles from here! You know, it's widely believed she was descended from French royalty…', she adds, touching one of the monuments.

'It must've been her regal blood', I assume, observed by the stone warrior's lifeless gaze. 'Great power comes from a noble family name… Even the name like yours', I add cuttingly to the redhead's back. So what? She boasts about her descent too much, she should get used to the fact that not everyone would rave over it. It's really nothing to rhapsodize about.

The Casterwill turns around rapidly, throwing me an ill gaze. I cross my arms and lean over to her, as if goading her: Come at me, you cunt. Try to lay a finger on me and you'll see how I deal with my enemies.

'Hey…', Dante's voice interrupts the duel of piercing stares. We both turn around to look at him. He has just picked up a dusty pile of sheets, sloppily sewn with a black string. 'These are her notes… and the key to our next move.'

'So what are we waiting for?!', Lok asks. 'We have to get out of here quickly and then look through them in peace!'

All the men look at us with anticipation. Sophie snorts haughtily and straightens up with dignity.

'At least I don't have to hide my origin', she blurts with all the contempt she has gathered since the beginning of our acquaintance, pulling away from me as if I hadn't washed for weeks.

Hold me. Hold me or I'll rip those luxuriant aristocratic curls off her head one by one, scratch her green peepers out and tear her fashionable clothes into tiny pieces. And then I'll check if she really bleeds in blue, damned princess…

I let all of them be ahead of me. I observe them when they exit the chamber. Sophie's back it is like a red rag to a bull for me, in a tight maroon blouse. I wonder if from that distance Poisonfang would do her a worse harm than tripping over and scratching her cocked-up nose… I have to clench my fist and bang it into the column to calm down. I grit my teeth, now more concentrated on the pain of my raw knuckles.

'Zhalia, you coming?', Dante addresses me; his voice echoes against the walls, it comes to me from everywhere.

I throw him an unfriendly glare. You've got some tact, man. I respond a bit too sharply:

'I am.'

The same day, 18:02

The Rouen-Paris train

France

Dante had been skimming over Joan of Arc's journal for almost half an hour, hoping that he would find some additional clues which he ignored before, an insignificant detail which could make their task easier. Everything seemed clear – with combined effort, mostly Sophie's knowledge on the medieval French, they had managed to set that they should head to the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris and seek for the entrance to the underground area, where the Maid of Orleans apparently hid her mystical ring, supposedly the source of her visionary talent. Luckily, the medieval clairvoyant included a map of the Paris underground area in her journal, which the holotome scanned with ease; however, getting to the treasure appeared as quite a problem – the seer described the road to the artifact in a series of riddles and instructions, which even after reading them in Sophie's rough translation for a few times hadn't made much sense. Maybe when they get there, everything will become clear and understandable.

Peter's presence would have been very helpful, mainly because he knew Old French and could translate the instructions, but they had had to leave him in the Foundation hospital – he would just slow down the research, especially in such a difficult terrain. They'd manage even in five. Partially if Cherit during his whole long life had learned some ancient dialects.

Dante looked around. He had been so lost in reading for a while that he wasn't paying attention to what the rest was doing. Strange that this silence hadn't seemed suspicious to him. Though they were the only passengers in the compartment, normally the whole group would have made quite a noise. He saw through the window that the kids went to the corridor and raved over the landscapes – Sophie was pointing at something in the distance each moment, chattering lively the whole time, and Lok was staring at her, enchanted, more fascinated with her gestures and expression than with anything she was saying. Well, nature probably interested him the most in the guise of his female schoolmates. Next to Lambert's elbow, leaning on the barrier, sat Cherit, delighting in the views and the summer sun. Zhalia, on the other hand, stayed on her place; with her arms crossed and pressed to her chest, she fixed her eyes on the windowpane, insensitive to the landscapes changing behind it. Her whole posture, mainly her tightened muscles, nails digging into her skin like claws and threateningly squinted eyes, trenchantly showed her mood – she was boiling with anger.

'Zhalia…', he began cautiously. 'Is anything wrong?'

She threw him a furious glare; her face was contorted like the muzzle of an irritated cougar.

'Of course not', she snapped only and turned to the window again. Roughly translated, it probably meant: And f*ck off.

Of course Dante could do as much, but he was afraid that it wouldn't be the best way to solve the problem – because it was obvious that Zhalia was bothered by one. He also suspected what could have put her in a bad mood.

'You didn't take to heart your clash with Sophie, did you?', he asked outright. Hare and hounds definitely wasn't his favorite game, he liked clarity.

She snarled with scorn, like a she-cat rubbed the wrong way.

'I'm not going to fuss over this capricious princess who knows nothing about real life', she responded proudly.

'That's good, because I almost thought that you really believed that the true power lies only in the aristocratic name…', he added slyly, pretending that he was still leafing through the famous Joan's journal.

'Not exactly', she said, shrugging. 'There's one exception.'

'You're extraordinarily nice', he smiled with a corner of his mouth, blowing the strand away from his nose.

She looked him up and down again, but now her face suited more the expression which she showed to the world every day. Especially when she smirked tartly.

'And you're extraordinarily stuck-up', she responded with a tone of leniency. 'Don't puff yourself up. I was talking about myself.'

Bewildered, he shortly cleared his throat, not sure how he should react to that. Zhalia laughed under her breath, as if she wanted to sweeten her remark – and she had even succeeded. She had a very pleasant laugh – quiet, kind of a soft purr.

'Don't worry', she calmed him down. 'After all, you look the best from this whole crazy company.'

'And it was supposed to cheer me up, riiight?', he murmured skeptically, aware that his competitors were: an awkward fifteen-years-old, his fretful, smug peer and a timid Titan.

'You've got one fan already, you don't need another one', she responded perversely. 'Sometimes I wonder who hired whom… 'cause she acts like your bodyguard.'

He laughed. She clearly teased him, but, strangely, he didn't mind. He preferred Zhalia's harmless banter over her usual cut-to-the-bone remarks, the fact that he was the victim this time didn't matter as much. At least she lightened up a bit and the whole compartment wasn't full of the electricity she had emitted before.

'Yeah, because I, from all the people, need security in guise of a frail, inexperienced fifteen-years-old…'

'We're getting off soon.'

Sophie appeared in the door. Her unnaturally stony face indicated that she had heard the last remark clearly. Dante felt stupid. Maybe he hadn't said anything offensive, but the Casterwill girl hadn't really had to hear his honest opinion about her. He coughed with embarrassment. Zhalia, though, just crossed her arms again and looked at her askance.

'Oh, look', she threw witheringly. 'We had to sink into the brightness of your perceptiveness to notice that.'

Dante sent her an imploring gaze; she pretended not to see that, raising her head higher with satisfaction. She apparently judged that the score's been settled and she couldn't help but announced it to her victim with a victorious stance.

Dante barely held back a heavy sigh. Working with women wasn't as easy as it could have seemed…

The same day, 18:21

The Notre Dame Cathedral

Paris, France

I admit that the current situation has its advantages. Though I clashed with the Casterwill girl again and now we both pant with hatred, not even able to look at each other, at least the princess doesn't snap her mouth over and over again, keeping the silence instead, demanding pity over her hurt pride. Well, actually it's my specialty to display my discontent blatantly, but she can learn from the best. However, I hope that the boys will be back in a moment; now they're checking what the eyes of Our Lady from the clue are directed at. Lok claims that those eyes are the gargoyles on the towers' corners. One of them is similar to that from Gar-Ghoul's cavern and it became our starting point. Actually, I don't know why they work on it – they could send Cherit. Instead, they left him with us. Perhaps they were afraid that otherwise we would kill each other. That's right. I've got few tools up my sleeve, they'd be perfect to do so…

'My ladies…', Cherit speaks up from Lok's bag, left on the pavement next to our feet. 'I think it would be better for our mission if you set your differences aside…'

'It's not me who started the whole argument', Sophie answers, shaking her red mane like a skittish mare.

'Me neither', I shrug.

'Oh really?!', Sophie snorts in disdain, still turning her back at me. 'Then why did you voice your opinion about a matter that you don't have any knowledge on?! I wonder what a person who appears from nowhere can know about the Casterwill family…'

'Back then, no one held against me that I had made an entrance FROM NOWHERE…', I accentuate strongly. 'Maybe because it was convenient for the mighty Casterwill to be saved like a damsel in distress?!', I finish spitefully.

'We could've manage without that dubious help, which exposed us to extra expenses!', she keeps reminding me of those broken windows.

'Oh, yeah, it'd be better to pay with your own skin!', I ironize. 'I just don't know if it would settle accounts – with such complexion…', I add maliciously. A precise shot; she even gasped in surprise.

'Well, it was a little below the belt, Zhalia', Cherit notices cautiously. 'Pointing out someone's appearance…'

'Oh, just shut up', I growl, shocking the gargoyle; he shuts his gob, as if he was afraid to get hit. 'I just said a few words of truth…'

'Truth!', Sophie repeats scornfully,. 'Truth is the least that is coming from your mouth, Zhalia!'

'What does that mean?!', I ask furiously, wary and alert. Was I caught red-handed? I try to recall any suspicious behavior that Sophie could've witnessed, but nothing comes to my mind; I was being professional as fuck.

'We all know you're hiding something', Sophie points out, 'and maybe Dante and Lok ignore it because you appeal to them, but I am not to be fooled with your dirty little tricks!'

'Sophie, I think you're being unfair towards Zhalia…', Cherit chimes in tentatively, but I outshout him.

'Listen, prissy', I burst out; I don't even have to pretend I am offended. Even if what Sophie says is not complete bollocks, I am furious that she dares to accuse me of that right in my face. 'I am done with your obsession about me, so I'm gonna say it only once, loud and clear: Does the word 'discretion' exist in your dictionary?! Hammer it home finally that not everyone likes to reveal everything about themselves in public. Which you should consider clothing-wise, 'cause at least half of this city is already familiar with your underwear…', I make an allusion about her flowy skirt.

'Look who's talking!', Sophie turns tomato red, involuntarily pulling the fabric down. 'You are the one who could star in a burlesque without any makeover!'

'Girls, I think you both went overboard', Cherit points out, quite distressed with the engulfing brawl.

'Oh, be quiet already!', Sophie reprimands him. 'Someone may hear you!'

'You two can be heard well enough!', Lok states, running to us. 'Why are you shouting so loud?'

'Miss Casterwill thinks she can pass judgement on everyone', I respond bitingly. 'Not so very noble of the heiress to such a clan; I guess your royal blood is thinner than stewed fruit juice.'

'You…!', Sophie turns on her heel with her hands formed into claws.

'Hey, hey, cool it!', Dante quickly places his hand on her shoulder. 'Let's not attract the passers-by attention… Don't forget what Guggenheim told us: the Organization also wanders around in Paris. If we catch their eye, they'll immediately call the reinforces and get us somewhere.'

The girl unwillingly lowers her arms, though her eyes are still burning.

'Have you found anything?', she asks, trying to cool her trembling voice.

'Yeah', Lok admits, picking up his bag with Cherit inside and flinging it over his shoulder. 'Come on. We've gotta find one church.'

The same day, 18:39

The church in IV district

Paris, France

'It looks like it's been closed down for a while', Dante states when we finally reach our destination and realize that the door is secured by the chain with a solid locker. Such a nice way to say: Get out.

It's not so easy to throw a Seeker out, though. Dante draws out a cover full of various skeleton keys in every shape and size.

'We're breaking in?!', Sophie looks incensed at that idea.

'Of course not!', Dante responds, choosing the right picklock and slipping it into the keyhole. 'I'm merely picking the lock, not breaking it.'

'It's something any real Seeker should already know how to do', I accentuate maliciously. Sorry, but I haven't gotten over our little scuffle yet. Unless I rip off some red strands, I won't stop holding a grudge.

'How to break in the churches?', the girl snarls ironically; apparently, the anger boils strong within her as well.

'How to get the job done', I respond haughtily. 'No matter what's in the way.'

'I AM a real Seeker, Zhalia!', she growls, enraged. U-huu, someone loses her temper. That's not very royal. 'I am the heiress to the Casterwill family, and you will not speak to me like that!'

'Hey!', Loks plunges between us and separates us. 'Sorry to interrupt, but Dante is kinda picking a lock in the broad daylight here! So could you not draw so much attention to us?'

I'm about to throw some harsh sentence, but the chain falls down at the same moment. Pheh, what does Dante have such a set of skeleton keys for if he picked the lock more slowly than me with a mere hairpin nevertheless?

'Alright', he announces, throwing both door wings open. 'We're in.'

Aw, great. Again, a lot of dust, the place repulses right from the start due to the emptiness and disorder, the floor is sticky from dirt (I suppose it's the local rats' merit), even the altar doesn't look too impressive, completely bare. Only the architecture can be praised – despite the lack of conservation, the columns and ceiling didn't lose their dignity, even the ornaments on them stay distinct and intact.

'These stained glass windows are a sight!', Cherit finds another value of this place.

'Are you sure this is the right church?', Sophie doubts it. 'I don't see any clues…'

'My instincts tell me that we'll know it when we see it', Dante says, hard-boiled and in control like always.

And now you've calmed us down… I've already seen your 'instincts' in action. So I take the matter into my own hands and go searching. I examine the interior, but it barely differs from any other abandoned churches. Maybe a bit, due to the fact that it's not completely dark and gloomy. The light comes from the aisle. It turns out that the stairs are there – probably leading to the tower.

'Hey guys, where exactly was the gargoyle of Our Lady looking?', I inquire, squinting my eyes in the stream of brightness from above.

'The cross at the top of the church!', Lok calls back.

I strain my sight, trying to see anything apart from glaring light. It appears to me that something sparkles up there…

'Well, take a look', I call them here. 'The cross is at the top of this bell tower.'

'Hey, there's sunlight coming straight down from up there…', Sophie notices, covering her eyes with her hand. 'How?'

'Reflection', Dante explains. 'There's a mirror up there reflecting light down.'

'And the gargoyle's gaze!', Lok guesses, happy that he gets something finally.

We all look at our feet. We're standing on the round mosaic made of tiles in subdued colors of earth. The sunlight playing on the floor shows glittering specks in the stone.

'That actually makes sense…', Sophie admits. 'The crystal trap from before was all about reflection too…'

A sudden noise interrupts this brainstorm. That doesn't bode well… The dazzling sun precludes weather change and thunders. But other danger could have appeared…

'Stay here!', Dante orders and prowls to the entrance. There, he has a better view of DeFoe and his minions, marching through the center of the church like a very militantly-oriented foreign sightseeing party. 'Find out how to open it', he lowers his voice not to drag the Organization here. 'I'll buy you some time.'

You what?! From what I managed to see, DeFoe brought here six Suits and Grier… If every one of them summons at least one Titan… and he just walks into the crowd as if it was a flock of docile sheep! Geez, can't he really count?! They've got advantage! And he's still winding them up! I don't quite understand what he exactly says because the echo distorts his words, but from the look on their faces, I can conclude that he walloped them pretty well. Now they'll crush him!

'Let's hurry', Lok insists, uptight, probably thinking the same.

'How can we open this? It's a huge marble slab!', Sophie panics.

'There must be a device or mechanism… somewhere…', Lok nervously searches around for such an apparatus. I doubt, though, that it will be placed in such an obvious place like the wall under the only picture hanging in the aisle…

Dante's still in one piece… and they don't even launch themselves at him like dogs at a lone wolf. Him and DeFoe just size each other up from the distance. As if they measured each other's strength. Grier stands between them, but after a moment he goes back, uncovering his superior. Did some split occur due to something Vale said? Good move, Dante. But I doubt the Organization will accept such a solution to that matter... The gentlemen's duel is not an option. Maybe they'll let him feel so, but if DeFoe loses, Dante will be torn apart by his men nevertheless. Welcome in the Organization. That's how we deal with complicated matters. Dead men cause no problems.

'What are we going to do?', Sophie gets anxious. 'He's badly outnumbered!'

There's at least one thing we agree at, then…

'Dante needs me', I state, stopping to listen out and getting ready to enter the arena.

'No, Zhalia!', the girl protests, changing the tactics completely. As if she tried to be in defiance of me. 'He told us to figure this out so we can find the ring of Arc!'

Of course. I could expect that she'd make a 180 degrees turn when I only decide to act.

'So that's your method?', I spit it out mockingly. 'You throw one to the lions to let the rest run with your tails between your legs? In the Rouen hideout, Lok had to get out of the trapdoor on his own, and now we're drawing out the popcorn and watching if Dante handles the challenge too? Maybe we're taking bets too?'

'That's not it!', she responds with gust. 'He just knows what he's doing! We would only disturb him!'

'Yeah, YOU TWO would disturb him', I snarl. 'I doubt that he planned to fight alone. But having two rookies as his support, he didn't have another choice.'

Sophie gets pink from anger… or shame.

'He didn't take you either', she draws coldly. 'I wonder why?'

'Probably he was afraid that you won't handle the task on your own', I respond drily.

'Or he simply rated you one of the 'inexperienced fifteen-years-olds'', she parries, mimicking Dante's way of speaking.

Oh, so it stings here.

'You forgot the frail part', I prompt helpfully.

'You're definitely not frail', she answers back. 'Especially in those trousers…'

'Are you implying anything?!', I throw myself forward, raising my fist.

'That you've got a big bottom!', she drawls, clenching both hands.

'At least I don't have to wear skirts to hide it!', I hiss furiously.

'Girls!', Lok breaks in, pulling Sophie away from me; she almost hurled herself at my throat. 'First, don't make noise or they'll find us! And second… Faster we open the hatch, faster Dante will stop fighting. So help me instead of arguing, OK?'

This argument convinces me. What? I don't want them to tear Dante into pieces. I've already planned a scenario by which my mission must be developed. I didn't include the scene where DeFoe and his men finish Dante off in any act. The final move belongs to me. If they get rid of him now, everything will be ruined. Neither Klaus nor the Professor will be pleased…

Besides… I didn't lie during our last talk one on one. I really think that he's the least irritating part of this team. He can control some Titans well, doesn't need to be led by the hand and doesn't throw tantrums about every single thing. Sometimes he is even being funny. I barely held back a snort of laughter at the sight of his confused face - in the train, when I put him down. I should take a photo then and update it in his Foundation profile. The leading operative slapped down with one bright remark, abashed like a missy!

'Alright', I agree first; after all, I won't act like a bratty teenager. 'What do you propose?'

'Remember how Joan of Arc's first trap worked? Only a Seekers' light will let us pass! Let's try lightening up those mirrors up there!'

Well, this is some idea, and quite surprising for a boy whom I didn't suspect of having intelligence outranking that of an edible snake. However…

'But they'll know we're here!', Sophie points out. Crap, it's disturbing that the redhead reads my mind… Get off my head!

'But we've got to do something, and quick!', Lok doesn't give up. 'How long can Dante keep fighting up there?'

I lean out a bit from around the corner, controlling the situation. Perhaps not too long… Admittedly, he handled two Redcaps somehow and Caliban protected him from Gar-Ghoul's attack, but he got hit by the Titan's paw and now is ploughing the floor with his butt, he bumps into one of the overturned pews. He doesn't move for a moment, dazed, but then he rubs the back of his head. So, you're alive. Your luck.

'He manages somehow', I inform them, 'but not for much longer, I guess.'

The kids exchange stares.

'We've only got one shot', Sophie states, all tense. 'As soon as I use the power, those Suits will be all over us!'

'We're out of time! Just try it, Sophie!', Lok insists.

'Fine, just remember it was your idea!', the girl warns him, then she aims upwards and shouts: 'Raypulse!'

The bullet dashes upwards, then ricochets and comes back. The kids run aside before the ray hits the stone rosette under their feet… and turns it crosswise, like a drain lid.

'It worked!', Sophie can't believe it.

I run to them to see it with my own eyes. That's right. The way down is open before us. I turn around, seeking Dante with my glare, and give him a signal in case he didn't hear or notice our action. He sees it. OK, so I fulfilled my duty.

'Come on inside', I push those two.

'But Dan…', Sophie begins, half-hidden already.

'He knows already', I push her head under the surface unceremoniously and follow her. Lok jumped in on the other side, he's already down there.

'Just look at it!', he says in awe.

Yeah, really, as if there was anything to admire… We're underground, surrounded by dark rocks; if we stand here for long and don't move, we will freeze. Though… the light from above, falling onto the stones, deflects on their knife-sharp edges and glitters on their smooth sides. One could think that those ordinary blocks are precious onyxes. It's not the best time for geological observations, however.

'Move it', I rush them to go.

'But where's Dante?', Sophie is still anxious.

'He'll be there in a minute', I assure her.

As a response, a patter of male boots is heard. Neither Grier nor DeFoe run like that… and none of them wears a cloak.

'Dante! You're fine!', Sophie sighs with relief when Vale is no longer only a shadow in the dark.

'Are we going to make a stand here?', I throw in wryly. Sorry, I won't get soppy about it. Like I said, one fan is enough for him.

'No, the ring of Arc is our priority', Dante runs to us. 'If it has as much power as I think, we'll need it to fight the Organization…' He turned around as if he reminded himself about something, and raising his hand, he shouts with a changed, sharp voice: 'Touchram!'

The rocks falling down from the vault bar the exit. I hear the Suits rummaging behind it. A good move. It will take some time before they find another entrance, and we really need it now. We'll worry about getting out later.

'Why is the ring of Arc so important?', Sophie investigates when we roam through the darkness of the corridor. 'What is it?'

'I'm not sure', Dante confesses truthfully, 'but some of the most powerful Titans are contained in rings…'

'You think that the ring of Arc could contain a Legendary Titan?', Sophie eyes get round from surprise. Dante admits in a murmur, drawing out the holotome.

A Legendary Titan? So that's what this game is about? Legendary Titans have immense powers… If I got one, I'd laugh off everyone who offered me a dozen of Metagolems and Gar-Ghouls…

Sophie needs some time to absorb this sensational news. Unluckily, she seems to have an endless need to blabber.

'We must be in the Paris catacombs!', she notices.

'Yes', Dante nods to finally have some peace. 'Foundation researchers believe that there are secret undiscovered portions of these ancient tombs.'

'Undiscovered until now…', Lok, our newly qualified perfectionist, corrects. 'So what are these catacombs anyway?'

What was unclear in the word: tombs, I ask? If not from the lessons, he should have remembered it even from Tomb Raider. I won't believe that he haven't played or watched it. At least to drool over Lara Croft or her movie equivalent, Angelina Jolie…

'Well, there were originally rock works, but in the seventeen hundreds the French started to bury the dead down here', our walking encyclopedia explains.

'Stop', Dante interrupts them, so we do so obediently. In front of us, there are mouths of four tunnels. 'There's something strange about this hall… I have a hunch this is no dead end', he leads us further.

I look around when tiny rainbows start to flicker on my hands. It turns out that it's the holotome's radiance reflected in the stones which shine like icicles.

'Check out this rock!', Lok also notices this. 'It's cool!'

'They're called crystals', Sophie throw inattentively, surprised how one cannot know that.

'These notes say to touch the stone of light', Dante quotes, 'and the pure of heart will pass…'

He's the first to place his hand on the wall. Him having a pure heart? Such a cocky bastard? Almost thirty years old guy? I'm sure that dirty things whirl in him like brats on a merry-go-round. For example, he won't make me believe that he has never stared at my cleavage. Or peeked under Sophie's skirt. Besides, there's no need to seek for long – he's a bachelor, but he certainly likes to ball somebody, and that's not something the Maid of Orleans, who made the vows of chastity, would praise. I just wait when the lightning strikes him.

And nothing. No, I just can't believe it. Who the hell is he?! A male virgin past the expiration date?!

The same to Lok. He entered puberty, dammit, and he's just discovering that he's a man, so he must be interested in such matters for sure. Maybe not in practice yet (I can't believe such a klutz could have already scored anyone), but just in theory – it is unseemly for noble young man, as well… Besides, he should get it in the neck for his stupidity only. Such a horrendous one is a sin, too. Meanwhile, he moves his hand across the wall just like that and comments lightly:

'Guess Joan of Arc was way into the thing of crystals and lightning…'

Alright, but Sophie won't pass. She's just the leading example of a mean bitch… She constantly makes cutting remarks about me, is green with envy, torments Lok on a daily basis. Besides, in the medieval era, red-haired women were regarded as witches.

'She had visions, remember?', she says to Lok, touching the stone. The passage opens slowly. 'It is called seeing the light for a reason…'

Damn it, she wasn't sent to hell either.

So, what does pure of heart exactly mean? Nevermind; I rather don't fit the definition either. I'm a double agent, I bluff and beat about the bushes not to reveal my true intentions, I have a foul mouth, I wonder how to lead Dante Vale astray every second… If I touch the stone, I'd be blown for a lark.

Sink or swim! Just quick, while they're not looking. I dash past the stone, not even brushing it with my finger…

'ZHALIA!', I hear only before I got deafened by a terrible crash of rocks falling and striking me down.

For a moment, everything is black; I have to blink few times to stop the dark spots flying before my eyes. I'm alive? I guess that yes if I feel such a piercing pain which doesn't allow me to catch a breath for a while. I try to look around, but my neck is stiff, probably due to the shock. I can move my arms, but my legs… Where're my legs?! Oh, right, I've got them; this stabbing pulsation is coming right from them. My calves are crushed, but I still have a feeling in them, so I'll pull through.

'Hang on!', Lok shouts; I see the sleeves of his blue blouse when he pulls away smaller parts of rocks.

'No, I can get free!', I resist; if he is going to take care of the rescue, the amputation will certainly occur. 'I don't need your help! I can do it myself, stop!', I yell louder and louder, seeing that Sophie approaches me. Oh no, now I know for sure that she'll finish me off. I struggle when she catches my arms.

'We're all in this together', she says seriously. 'No matter what our differences are.'

'On three', Dante commands, along with Lok holding the biggest rock which crushed me from knees down. Sophie tightens the grip. 'One, two, three!'

They push strongly and at the same time Sophie pulls me away. With joint effort, they manage to get me off from the trap. I try to get free from Sophie's hands as quickly as possible and stand up; I'm doing well for a moment, but then awful tingling softens my legs into a jelly; I have to lean onto the wall not to fall down.

'You OK?', Dante asks with concern.

'Ah, yeah…', I answer with hesitation; it's not the best description of my actual state. 'Let's just go', I pretend that everything is fine, cleaning myself from dust.

It apparently doesn't convince Dante. He approaches me and tries to help me stand.

'Everything is alright!', I pull away a bit too fiercely.

'You're hardly keeping your feet', he denies, but doesn't try to get closer anymore. 'I don't have a clue why the trap got activated.'

'Maybe… I don't know… it crossed the expiration date?', Lok throws to lighten the mood a little.

'Rather one of us has dishonest intentions', Sophie says loudly and clearly, looking right at me.

'I guess I know what happened…', suddenly Cherit sticks his head out from the bag. We almost forgot he's here… The Titan put his long ears down, remorse is unmistakably visible on his gob. 'I didn't touch the crystal…', he confesses, looking at me with his huge, yellow eyes. 'I'm sorry, Zhalia, I didn't think about it…'

'No one did. It was supposed to concern Seekers only', Sophie denies.

'It wasn't specified', Dante parries. 'There's only a line written about those pure of heart.'

'Do Titans have hearts?', Lok makes a blunder tactlessly.

'What a question, Lok!', Cherit peeks at him so reproachfully that the boy starts to feel stupid.

'I'm sorry', he murmurs, scratching his head. 'I meant… you're spiritual beings, or something like that.'

'Do I look like a spirit to you?', the small fellow didn't allow to be placated so quickly and now glares at Lok askance.

'The heart is just a metaphor', Dante interrupts the discussion. 'In the past, it was widely believed that it contains the self… not only human.'

'Now many state that human personality is just a group of brain processes…', Sophie has to show off, like always. 'Compounds of hormones, neuron connections…'

'If Joan of Arc wrote those with pure brain processes, it would sound awful', Lambert notices.

'Dante said it better', Sophie admits. 'Though I'd rather use the word: soul…'

We're touching really sensitive matters now. I guess that's better. I have some time to pull myself together and win over the cramp in my calves. And mask how Cherit's confession relieved me. He got me out of quite a trouble…

'Alright, we'll have enough time for philosophical disputes after we come back', Dante ends the topic. 'Now we've got some things to do. Zhalia, will you manage?', he asks, raising his hand as if he wanted to touch my shoulder, but he stops at the last moment.

I nod, straightening up, though my legs still tremble a bit. I will, somehow. Besides, if I said no, what would they do? The entrance is closed, we will have to crawl through some tunnels before we find a new one. If they don't want to leave me, of course. I doubt it, they're such a group of good scouts. They could even stand this bum, Peter, without complaints. I can't be worse than this klutz!

Dante accepts my answer. Though he still peeks at me when we go forward, my face apparently doesn't betray me and show how my legs itch with every step I make, because he gives up eventually. The corridor gets wider and there are mouths of niches visible on the left.

'The ring chamber should be just ahead', Dante anticipates.

'Hey, I've seen something like that before!', Lok doesn't listen to him completely and walks into one of the niches, where a cubic jigsaw draws attention.

'Wait Lok, we were supposed to follow the map!', Sophie reminds him, when Lambert approaches the three-dimensional puzzle.

'I know, I just want to take this with us so I can…', he begins, but cuts seeing that bars are closing behind him.

'Lok!', Sophie squeals.

Didn't I say how it's easier to catch her attention? You only have to be mortally endangered. Yeah, mortally. The second time during one day Lok is threatened with a vision of turning into a pincushion when big spikes start to slide from the walls which are getting closer to each other bit by bit.

'A trap!', Lok shouts, staring wide-eyed at the spikes which will pierce his lungs in no time.

'Touchram!', Dante tries to crush the bars. A failure. The spell just deflects off them and vanishes in the air.

'Lok, you have to get out of there!' Oh, Sophie and her brilliant advices. Girl, I doubt he is staying here on his own free will, he just CANNOT escape!

'He's finished!', I judge, trying to bend the bars. Yeah, maybe I should also bite through them. I'd break my teeth and nails for some idiot who always has to step into the quicksand… If he doesn't get killed now, he'll die slipping on some banana skin someday.

'Oh, I can't watch!', Sophie covers her eyes, as if it was a horror movie in the cinema. I'm also not very willing to watch ripped guts, but I won't play a frail plant and be on the verge of fainting!

'Just hang on!', Dante orders, drawing out the amulet. 'Lend us strength, Metagolem!'

Someone said we have to spare ourselves, that the fight is ahead of us and so on? Apparently that someone has a very weak memory. He doesn't give a shit that he has summoned Caliban not so long ago and fought eight men and their Titans, so he shouldn't exhaust himself; he summons Metagolem nevertheless. Dante Vale cannot allow anyone to die on his watch.

'You've got to free Lok!', he orders the Titan.

The clay colossus hits the bars with all force, but the brute strength isn't the thing that will help us now… There's certainly a magic trick to open the cage, so after some fruitless efforts, Metagolem returns to the amulet. Cherit squeals with fear; now he seems to regret that he has always been stuck to Lambert. What is the kid doing now?! Just drop the puzzle and try to find a device stopping the trap!

'I got it!', he shouts suddenly.

The spikes stop. Just like that. Lok stares at them with disbelief. The first needle is placed a centimeter away from his trainer; second later, it'd pierce his foot.

'Ay, he solved the puzzle!', Cherit triumphs. I'd also yell with joy if I avoided turning into a canapé.

The bars go up with a crack. Sophie beams with happiness. Dante is somewhat paler than always, he quickly brushes off a drop of sweat from his forehead. Yeaaah, and now don't tell me it's due to the warmth. You were seized by fear that we'd have to find a spare place in already crammed catacombs.

'The puzzle hid a Titan!', the boy shouts, running to us. 'He bonded with me!'

'Well done', Dante comments. I'd rather start from giving him a bollocking that he comes into the places he shouldn't approach. But well, there are various upbringing methods. 'Let's take a look at your new friend', he raises the amulet above the holotome. 'You found Springer!', a three-dimensional model appears; the creature resembles a two-tailed squirrel or some kind of a desert fox the most. 'This Titan is skilled at solving complex puzzles and intricate traps. You two have a lot in common', he adds with a half-smile. Lok swells with pride.

A sudden explosion behind us breaks the triumphal moment. A fire flares from one of the side corridors, it smells of burnt-to-ashes bones of few unlucky dead men who couldn't rest in peace even after their death.

'Let's move, the Organization is catching up with us!', Dante easily senses the danger. 'Come on!'

The same day, 19:19

The catacombs

Paris, France

'The ring of Arc', Dante announced to the rest of the team, opening the wrought-iron door at the end of the long tunnel.

The chamber was bathed in golden and orange light, though there weren't any torches burning there; maybe someday in the past, but not a single one lasted until the present time. After a closer look, it was noticeable that the aura was coming from a small, silver ring, which floated above the pedestal into the showcase, surrounded by a sphere of energy like a jack-o'-lantern.

'We made it!', Lok commented with emphasis.

'It's not over yet', Dante cooled his zest. He didn't want Lok to get carried away again, like it was with the previous trap. He had a lot of luck with Springer's puzzle, but Vale would prefer if the boy hadn't been constantly acting on spec. Fortune is fickle and you never know when the winning streak will end. When it happens, you need a lot of brains to get out of troubles. And to work on something well, you always have to stay alert and control your nerves.

So Dante wasn't panicking, just calmly walked his team in. He kept calm even facing the rows of armors, which were looking at them with the stares of empty visors, holding various types of weapons. Which suddenly slipped from the lifeless hands and surrounded them…

'Is that the Organization?!', Sophie squeaked, observing the arms circling around them. 'How did they get here before us?!'

'I have a feeling it's much worse than that…', Dante, exceptionally, couldn't ease her worry. He quickly leafed through the journal and found the right page; he skimmed through the notes so many times that he made it very fast. 'It's the knights of Arc inner circle!', he read at lightning-speed and closed the journal, throwing it into his pocket; instead, he drew out the amulet. 'Hand-to-hand Titans only!', he advised his team. 'Caliban!'

They listened to him, luckily.

'Freelancer!'

'Sabriel!'

'Kilthane!'

The Titans had just arrived in their brigade and at once they had to parry the attacks of bloodthirsty swords, axes and flails. Kilthane mostly blocked the weapons; Caliban preferred the defense by attack. Sabriel was getting by the swords deftly, fencing like a master. Only Freelancer couldn't stand a chance – he didn't have enough room to maneuver his long and heavy lance, so he got eliminated first.

'This is bad!', Lok judged when the Titan returned to the amulet.

'Maybe there's an easier way!', Sophie shouted, backing to the others who, without any weapons, could count only on Titans. 'Breakspell!'

The charm hit the pike charging at Kilthane but instead of smashing it into pieces, it made the weapon lose interest in the dark knight and launch at the Seekers instead.

'It only made it worse!', Lok stated the obvious thing, running away from the charge with the others.

Only Dante stood against the spear flying to them. Dodging the tip, he caught it with both hands and tried to win over the charm levitating it, but he failed – the magic of this place was too strong. The spear only lifted him up, struggled like a skittish steed and threw the man onto the floor. He hit it with his back hardly, but quickly rolled over to his knees and stood up. Next to him Lok was held captive by a sword almost touching his chest.

'Hyperstride!', the boy jumped; Dante was almost getting proud that the unruly student had caught the spell just the second time, when Lok hit one of the armors, knocking it over.

It turned out that the boy's scatterbrained attitude gave a surprisingly good effect; one of the sword fell down right before Dante's eyes, as if the strings lifting it up got cut off. Vale peeked at it, then at the hit armor, supported by Lok who tried to put it back into the right shape. Meanwhile Kilthane and Sabriel dropped out of the game. He wasn't really worried about it, though. Thanks to Lok he discovered the circle's mystery.

'Group up!', he called his allies. They obediently formed a tight circle, almost touching each other's backs.

'Nothing's working!', Sophie tried to outshout the humming of floating weapons. 'Any ideas?!'

'I've got one idea!', Dante admitted and jumped; he caught one sword, hung down on it and set himself swinging, then he kicked one of the armors, throwing its visor away.

'Target the knights', he advised, landing on the floor, 'not the weapons!'

'The source of the enchantment are the armors, so… Breakspell!', Sophie sent the charm into one of the knights.

It leaned over and fell down onto the floor, where it scattered into single iron parts.

'It's working! Keep it up!', he encouraged the girl.

She took it to the heart greatly. Though Dante and Zhalia tried to help her a bit, she did the most of good work nevertheless. After a moment the flooring was covered in unattached armor parts, messily mixed with paralyzed weapons, as if they were in one big forge.

'We did it!', Sophie beamed and even jumped from joy. 'As a team, Dante!', she added and just then Dante noticed that though the jump went smoothly, the landing wouldn't be so nice; the Casterwill girl was simply passing out, she leaned backwards inertly like a rug doll. On impulse, he ran to her and caught her in a crouch, the second before she broke her skull against the marble. 'You and I…', she mumbled before she lost her breath and just drooped her head onto his shoulder helplessly.

'Sophie?!', Lok shouted, frightened by her sudden faint.

'She used too many powers too quickly', Cherit guessed, staring at the Casterwill's waxen face. 'She is exhausted…'

Dante also observed the pale, weakened girl, who slipped through his arms; she was catching quick, shallow breaths with her half-opened mouth.

I won't say that you're an inexperienced fifteen-years-old ever again', he swore, recalling his reckless words and now feeling immensely stupid that he had ever said so. Not every fifteen-years-old would have risked her life to save them…

'The Organization!', Zhalia reminded them. 'We have to get out of here! With that ring!'

She and Lok ran to the showcase. The woman broke the glass with the end of the lance while Lok was reaching out to the artifact.

'Wait!', Dante protested, seeing Lambert's hand just above the silver band; too late.

Lok screamed as if he was coming through the ordeal of iron. He was lifted into the air for a moment, with his arms spread open. Then he suddenly curled like a spider pinned with a needle, to the embryonic position, pushing his temples hard.

'Father!', he whimpered in a voice which didn't really belonged to him; he sounded like a six-years-old. 'Dad, is that you?!'

He reached his hand out and all of the sudden he hung down inertly, then plummeted onto the floor, turning somersaults. He landed few meters away, rubbing his head and blinking his eyes in disbelief.

'Are you still there?', Zhalia asked, pulling him up by the sleeve. He didn't respond nor move. 'Hey, get up! You made quite a noise, the Organization will find us soon! It's not the best time to rest!'

'I saw my dad…', he got it out through his pallid lips. 'And… and some man I don't know…'

Dante twitched, hearing it.

'We have to find a way to contain the ring…', he said slowly, still setting it into the right order in his head. He saw Zhalia above him, raised his stare at her and finished: 'It's under a curse. We must prevent it from falling into the hands of the Organization…'

'How are we going to escape carrying her?!', she pointed at Sophie. Dante threw her a warning glare, meaning: 'A comrade is never a burden'. She rolled her eyes and looked aside, but didn't argue about it. They've already voiced their differing opinion on compassion, there was no need to discuss it further.

'And when we're trying to grab the ring, it goes crazy!', Lok added, now pulled together, cleaned from dust, only still massaging his neck. 'So what will we do?!'

'Lok, there's no time, we've got to do something, right now!', Cherit only fanned the nervousness taking over them.

'And who the heck am I, Frodo Baggins?!', Lok burst out with despair, losing self-control.

The ring of Arc, an ordinary silver band with one light blue gem, levitated above their heads innocently, as if it had been ridiculing their helplessness.