Authors note: So in Tomb Raider 2013 where Lara finds a corpse in the tree with a bow and arrows and a book I felt I wanted to do something similar in this story.

Chapter 15: Archaeological Dig Site

Louvre

Paris

17 November 2003

21:20

Lara Croft

Descending into the passageway, Lara made her way into the basements. Above, LED lamps hummed, casting flickering shadows across rows of computers. The massive armored glass doors responded to Carvier's swipe card with a deep beep, and it opened. In the dim, flickering light, Lara's eyes widened as she peered through the chain-link fence. Before her lay a vast pit, its expanse seemingly large enough to contain two Croft Manors.

As Lara cautiously approached the makeshift cabin, she discerned a solitary guard emerging from the shadows. Each deliberate step he took echoed loudly on the gravel pathway as he secured the door with a heavy metallic clang, all the while unaware of the piercing scrutiny of Lara's vigilant gaze. In one swift, seamless motion, she skillfully disabled him before he could even notice her presence, quickly and silently moving him inside the cabin.

Surveying the area, Lara noticed another guard and quickly subdued him, leaving his body slumped on the floor. With both guards incapacitated, she moved to the edge of the pit and carefully examined the excavation below.. A stone tower, painstakingly unearthed, stood prominently on one side, encircled by scaffolding that ascended like mechanical ivy. At the center of the tower, an enigmatic circular panel rotated, its ebony surface carved with elaborate symbols that shimmered like liquid gold.

Intrigued by curiosity, Lara took a cautious glance around to ensure she was indeed alone before delving into the cabins. She initiated her exploration with the generator housing, carefully inspecting the equipment within. Her attention then turned to the second cabin, where she made an unexpected discovery—an office space adorned with an array of detailed charts and Carvier's distinctive, meticulous notes. As Lara settled comfortably into the plush swivel chair, she carefully sorted through the scattered documents spread out before her. Her eyes widened in astonishment as she traced the intricate connections between the ancient biblical narratives and the exquisite 14th-century artwork depicted in the documents. Each detail she uncovered seemed to unravel a fascinating story that had long been concealed. about the Nephilim," Lara whispered. "They were the children of angels and mortals, who lived in the early days of the Bible. But how does this old story connect to medieval art?"

As Lara stood in the dimly lit room, she whispered to herself, "Is there anything else here that could help?" Her eyes scanned the area, searching for any missed clues, as her fingers nervously traced the edges of the scattered papers. Despite her growing urge for a comforting cup of coffee, she forced herself to remain focused, knowing that the timing couldn't have been worse for such a distraction.

Lara abruptly stopped flipping through the notes, her thumb frozen mid-air as she carefully examined the intricate symbols on the aged parchment. "Wait a minute," she murmured, her eyes widening with realization. "These symbols match the ones on the cogwheels."

As she opened Werner's journal and turned the pages, she encountered detailed sketches of mysterious markings alongside hastily scribbled notes attempting to decipher them. The excitement within her grew as she carefully compared the symbols, feeling a surge of anticipation at the prospect of unraveling their meaning.

"Crescent moon, a dot within a circle representing the male symbol, and an arrowhead!"

As she stood there, grappling with the compelling emotions of the moment, Lara found herself uttering a silent reprimand. "Focus, Lara," she chided herself, "verify your findings before leaping to conclusions." Securing the journal in her pocket, she made her way forward, pushing the chair aside and deftly leaping over the sturdy chain-link fence. The landing on the platform before the colossal cogwheel caused her to stagger, and she fought to stabilize herself, feeling the weight of the situation pressing upon her.

Gazing solemnly into the seemingly bottomless abyss, she felt a shiver run down her spine as she contemplated the unfathomable depth of the pit, which yawned open like a voracious, waiting mouth. Amongst the scattered buckets and mud-smeared wheelbarrows, a scarcely visible JCB lay still, encompassed by a cluster of weathered poles and corroded iron sheets struggling to retain the encroaching earth. As the ground lay exposed, it unveiled remnants of what seemed to be an ancient roadway, obscured and weathered by time's relentless passage.

As she approached the wheel, she muttered, "A hell of a way to break a fall." The aged wooden boards, weathered by years of use, creaked ominously under her weight.

As she approached, the massive cogwheel atop the ancient machinery began to slow, its metal teeth grinding to a stop. One by one, the revolving rings came to a standstill, emitting a hollow rattle that resonated like a snake's hiss. Emerging from the intricate contraption, a wooden frame adorned with symbols and equipped with a spring-release handle caught Lara's attention. The frame aligned itself with a row of four enigmatic symbols, hinting at a hidden code waiting to be unlocked. As Lara contemplated the mechanism, she realized that moving the handle would set the rings in motion, potentially unveiling a new combination. The air seemed to be filled with anticipation as the mechanism stood ready for her next move. With a deep breath, Lara prepared herself to engage with the enigmatic device.

As she stood in the dimly lit hallway, she couldn't shake the unsettling sensation of eyes following her every move. "I hate feeling like I'm being watched," she muttered under her breath, her fingers tightening around the cold, metal handle.

It took every ounce of her strength to lower the heavy mechanism, her hands gripping the cold metal bar. The sound of metal clanking and grinding echoed in the room with each slow revolution until, finally, with a sharp snap and a hiss, the frame retracted. The symbols she had selected glowed ominously, resembling menacing dragon eyes as they seared into the wood, leaving behind a charred mark. The ground quivered beneath her as the wheel turned in on itself, resembling the delicate yet powerful unfolding of a lotus flower. A steel pin deftly pierced through the chosen symbols, creating a sense of unlocking and releasing the round gates in the ground.

As she turned her back, she couldn't shake off the feeling that someone might be outlined against the chain-link fence. In that tense moment, she half-expected to see her stalker, a shadow that had been relentlessly trailing her.

"I think those were the right ones," Lara said quietly as she ducked her head inside and tested the air currents.

Lara hesitantly stepped into the narrow opening, her footsteps echoing softly as the floor gradually sloped downward, enveloping her in an eerie and unsettling darkness.

She felt the solid stone give way beneath her, plunging her into a sudden free fall. Amidst the rush of air and the exhilaration of the unknown, she couldn't stifle the laughter that poured from her, echoing through the depths like the cackle of a daring spirit.

Louvre

Paris

17 November 2003

21:45

Kurtis Trent

As Kurtis raced towards the gaping hole in the ground, he could feel the urgency pulsing through his veins. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, a constant reminder of the limited time he had. Without a moment's hesitation, he lunged towards the opening, his body instinctively bending low as he stuck his head inside. The darkness enveloped him like a suffocating blanket, and a chilling gust of wind whipped past him, causing an involuntary shiver to run down his spine..

He strained his eyes, attempting to discern any movement or sound in the oppressive darkness, but there was none. Fear coursed through him, and he murmured a silent prayer, desperately hoping for Lara's safety. Surveying the area for any lurking guards, he raised his arms and bared his palms. With a deep breath and closed eyes, he focused on separating his soul from his physical form.

As he descended, the invisible forces of the wind whipped past him, guiding his soul down the dark abyss. A surge of adrenaline electrified his veins as he floated towards the bottom of the pit, his heart pounding with exhilaration. He touched down softly on the ground, his footsteps making no sound, feeling a wave of relief washing over him for making it down unscathed. Surveying his surroundings, he took in the sight of Lara rifling through an ancient pack, clutching a weathered, leather-bound book in her hand.

Reading aloud from the book, she seemed aware of an unseen audience. Kurtis observed her with admiration, recognizing her as one of the most courageous individuals he had ever encountered. He was thankful for his timely arrival and her safety.

Looking down, he noticed a corpse with lifeless eyes gazing back at him. It was one of Eckhardt's followers who had attempted, unsuccessfully, to acquire the painting. Kurtis pondered the number of those who had tried and failed to reach this place. However, the presence of the corpse also indicated that the vault remained unbreached, which offered him a glimmer of hope.

Lara closed the book and headed towards a door, disappearing into the Hall of Seasons. Kurtis followed her, his footsteps silent on the cold stone floor. She studied the chamber, her eyes scanning every inch of the room, her hands opening doors to find the missing receptacle.

Lara closed the book and advanced towards a door, disappearing into the Hall of Seasons. Kurtis followed, his footsteps softened by the cold stone floor. She examined the chamber, her eyes carefully scanning the area, her fingers probing through doorways for the missing receptacle.

Louvre

Paris

17 November 2003

21:45

Lara Croft

Lara collided with an unyielding wooden barrier, the force of the impact wrenching the breath from her lungs. The harsh sound of cracking wood echoed around her as she gripped the rotting planks tightly, her fingers digging into the splintered surface. Each breath was a struggle, her chest heaving as she fought to draw air into her battered lungs. Her legs swung precariously over the abyss below, the darkness yawning hungrily beneath her.

With every desperate gasp, she felt the wood beneath her fingertips giving way, the timbers groaning in protest. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as she clung on, her muscles burning with the effort. Eventually, the inevitable happened—the timbers surrendered with a final, splintering crack. Lara's heart lurched as she plummeted, a scream tearing from her lips and piercing the air.

For a moment, the world was a chaotic blur of motion and sound. Then, with a sudden, jarring halt, she landed softly on a bed of fine sand about four feet below. The grains cushioned her fall, enveloping her in a cloud of dust as she lay there, dazed and breathing heavily, the echoes of her fall fading into the silence.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," she whispered to herself, feeling a wave of relief wash over her.

A dim glow from her flashlight illuminated her boots, hands, and the rugged limestone walls of the narrow passage. She gasped for air, pressing her back against the cool, solid surface of the wall, taking deep, steadying breaths. Amidst the uncertainty of her situation, one truth was crystal clear: she had survived.

"It's astonishing how often I take that statement for granted," she reflected, the reality of her narrow escape sinking in.

As her breathing slowed from its panicked pace, she cautiously felt her way through the passage, the light ahead intensifying with every step. Stray strands of her hair, loosened, danced across her face in the whistling wind as she advanced, unaware of what awaited her. Abruptly, the walls, floor, and ceiling vanished. She dropped to her stomach and peered over the brink, inhaling sharply.

"I've observed photographs of the vast sinkholes created for the descent of colossal tunnel boring machines, extending dozens of meters beneath the earth. Those excavations were indeed large, yet they paled in comparison to the immense chamber that lay before me now."

Bats dangled in drowsy gatherings, draped amongst the stalactites overhead. A handful of these nocturnal beings flitted to and fro, minuscule as gnats within a vast oil drum. Deep beneath, at a vertiginous depth that sent her head reeling, grandiose lamps reminiscent of an old pirate ship embellished a bridge. This once grand structure had arched across the chasm's expanse. Now, its exquisite carvings and stonework lay victim to a bygone disaster, leaving it bisected, its severed ends eternally apart.

Lara slid forward as far as she dared. Below the lamps, shadows encroached, tainted with an eerie bluish glow like fire. Through its light, she spotted the cavern floor, which was littered with dark, irregular forms of broken stone. Menacing shapes of gargoyles were scattered all around, leering, snarling, and curling their animalistic mouths as though keeping whatever was at the bottom of the cavern at bay. She dropped a pebble over the edge and began to count. Twenty seconds passed before a faint plink echoed, revealing the depth below.

A gust, the sort that only graces the peaks of towering structures, swept by.

Lara uttered, "That was simple," her lips curving into a sardonic grin, even as her heart thudded against her ribs.

The breeze embraced her like the warm, inviting waters of a hot spring, its gentle caress bubbling through her fear and washing it away. She had almost forgotten this intoxicating sense of daring. Two long years had passed since she last flirted with death or ventured beyond the confines of her manor. Since her return from Egypt, she'd wandered past her trophy room with a strange sense of detachment, unable to connect herself to the artifacts within.

The Scion, the Xi'an Dagger, the Iris, and the other artifacts all seemed to belong to someone else, relics of a past life. The meditative, reclusive woman she had become since the harrowing events in Egypt felt disconnected from these treasures. But now, as she exhaled slowly, she saw the chamber with renewed eyes. The thrill of discovery and adventure surged through her once more, rekindling the fire that had always driven her forward. The artifacts no longer felt like remnants of a distant past, but like pieces of an unfinished puzzle, waiting for her to unlock their secrets.

Lara prepared for her descent, a familiar thrill igniting her senses as she fastened her harness and checked her equipment with practiced precision. The thrill of climbing had always been her greatest passion, a pursuit that transcended mere physicality. As her fingers gripped the rugged surface of the cliff, she felt an electric connection with the ancient stone, a bond that awakened her deepest sense of adventure. The texture of the rock under her hands, the subtle vibrations through the climbing rope, and the sheer vertical drop before her all combined to stir a profound excitement within her. For Lara, there was something almost sacred about the intimate dance with the living rock of the Earth, an exhilarating reminder of why she was drawn to the thrill of exploration and the endless quest for discovery.

At moments, she only grazed the wall with the lightest touch, her entire weight balanced precariously on a few inches of surface. With each cautious movement, she leaned forward, stretching her reach to find a more secure foothold. There was a fluid rhythm to her steps—a deliberate, measured one-two-three beat that she counted in her head. Her movements were almost balletic, transitioning seamlessly from one position to the next as if dancing across an invisible stage. Despite the demanding maneuvering, she felt no hint of strain or discomfort; her body bent and flexed with a grace and agility that made each motion appear effortless.

The chamber was chillingly cold, but the relentless activity of her muscles provided a comforting warmth against the frigid air. When she finally dropped to the ground, her legs buckling slightly as she struggled to steady herself, she was bathed in sweat, her skin tingling from exertion. Despite the icy surroundings, a triumphant smile spread across her face, reflecting her satisfaction with the challenge she had just overcome.

Lara glanced up, her eyes widening as she took in the grandeur of the ancient chamber. A powerful urge to shout surged within her, driven by the sheer exhilaration of the moment. The thought of hearing her own voice reverberate off the stone walls was almost irresistible. For a few fleeting seconds, a profound joy enveloped her, a sensation so intense it felt as if it could bind her to a strength she had long thought lost.

As the echo of her almost-lost happiness faded, she leaned closer to the cold, weathered stone and murmured, "I had forgotten how this felt." The words were barely audible, yet they carried the weight of a rekindled passion that she had buried deep within herself, only now resurfacing in the midst of her adventure.

The gravel beneath her feet shifted and crumbled with each step, behaving like the shifting sands in the upper chamber of an hourglass. As she moved carefully, the gravel scattered in a swirl of sand and dust. She slipped through the grating at the center of the pathway, ensuring it remained slightly ajar to facilitate a swift exit if needed. The thought of being trapped with no escape route unsettled her; she loathed the feeling of doors closing behind her without purpose or warning.

The passage sloped gently downward, its descent becoming more pronounced with each step she took, causing the air to grow warmer as she ventured deeper. The walls were adorned with a spectral light that danced and flickered, reminiscent of frost on a winter morning, though there was no hint of actual moisture in the air. The only sounds piercing through the heavy, oppressive silence were the sharp, echoing crunch of her footsteps, each one reverberating through the confined space with an unsettling clarity. The silence around her felt almost tangible, an almost palpable weight that pressed in from all sides, amplifying the solitary nature of her journey.

She almost tripped over a decayed corpse, its once-human form now a mere husk. Her pulse quickened, a visceral reaction to the unsettling sight. She cautiously nudged the withered remains with her boot. The lifeless body showed no sign of movement, a small comfort given her previous encounters with reanimated corpses.

The body lay sprawled in a macabre tableau, its limbs outstretched as if it had been desperately trying to escape the oppressive darkness of the tunnel. Its skeletal fingers seemed to claw futilely toward a bolted oak door visible further down the passage. The remnants of medieval clothing, now little more than tattered rags, clung stubbornly to the bone structure, hinting at a once proud existence.

With practiced efficiency, Lara set about dismantling the body. She severed the head, arms, and legs with quick, deliberate motions. As the lifeless limbs fell away, she rolled the torso over and, after some effort, pried a crossbow from the strap that still partially secured it. The weapon, though old and worn, might prove useful in her quest through the darkness.

"Fourteenth-century hand-arbalest," she muttered, her eyes tracing the elegant craftsmanship. "Lever-type trigger, ash stock... Not bad."

She carefully blew off the accumulated dust and peered down the lathe, examining it for any signs of warping. To her amazement, the crossbow was in pristine condition, from the iron stirrup to the hempen string. The tomb's arid environment had preserved it exceptionally well. Nearby, a small bag concealed a collection of wickedly sharp bolts, each encased in protective wax.

Her curiosity piqued, she wondered aloud, "I wonder who he was?" Her voice reverberated softly through the dim, musty tunnel.

Her hands moved instinctively, methodically sorting through the remnants of the knight's pack. Brushing away grains of sand, she uncovered a weathered, leather-bound book. The cover was cracked and the edges frayed, giving it a fragile appearance that demanded a gentle touch. Years of experience handling such delicate artifacts had taught her to be meticulous.

Opening the book, she was greeted by pages so thin and translucent they resembled ancient tissue paper. The text, meticulously penned in Latin—the scholarly language of the era—drew her immediate attention. She carefully turned the brittle pages, her fingertips barely grazing the delicate surfaces. Each movement was precise, almost reverent, as she unfurled the fragile parchment.

Taking a deep breath, she focused on the faded script on the final pages. Her eyes narrowed as she began to translate the ancient text, the Latin phrases slowly revealing their secrets. The intricacies of the language and the weight of history captured in those words demanded her full concentration, and she felt a mix of excitement and responsibility as she delved into the knight's long-lost narrative.

"By the grace of God, I, Sir Reginald of Kent, do hereby record my findings…"

**March 7th, 1485**

"Today marks the beginning of my final few entries in this cursed place. Years have elapsed since my master, Pieter van Eckhardt, was imprisoned, and my quest to secure his release has led me here, beneath the city. The knowledge I have accumulated—knowledge the Black Alchemist coveted for the completion of the Great Work—has guided me to this forsaken crypt. Alas, I find myself alone, burdened with the task of finishing what he started. The Lux Veritatis are yet unaware of my intrusion; I have managed to slip past their vigilant eyes under the cloak of the moon's shadow."

**March 8th**

"Curses are thick upon this place. Guided by my investigations and translations of Pieter's final directives, I have come to this tomb after months of relentless searching. Yet now, I deeply regret ever laying eyes upon it. The evil that permeates this place is suffocating, like a rancid stench that chokes the air. I must record my experiences here, if only to aid others who might one day come to lay waste to the vault of the Lux Veritatis!"

**March 9th**

"Today has been a day of utter despair. I am greatly weakened and my writing is a struggle. The guardians in the great hall took me by surprise. It seems the Lux Veritatis have cursed them to move through shadows, a grim parody of the Black Alchemist's grand power. How grotesque and feeble they appear, yet their presence still wields a deadly force! My own arrogance has betrayed me. These creatures hunted and ensnared me within the vault for hours. I hear their echoes behind the stone walls, ever vigilant. It is now imperative that I force my way through. Master, grant me the strength to persevere!"

A shudder ran through Lara as she read, noting the hasty, trembling script of the final entry as if penned by someone in excruciating pain.

**March 10th**

"My end is nigh. I have failed, yet I hope that others loyal to the Great Work may come to relieve me of this burden. I managed to fell my assailants, though each resisted many arrows and did not cease their relentless pursuit. I had no choice but to leave them behind, crawling in agony, while I ascended to the high chamber. Oh, master, forgive me! In my terror, I was forced to flee from that place and its guardian, Brother Obscura—who, though once like the others, now stands more formidable and malevolent. He drove me from the resting place of the Painting. My strength faltered, and I could not match his might, even in death. Days have passed since I entered this cursed tomb, and the sword wound inflicted by one of those wretched Lux Veritatis warriors festers and torments me. I cannot climb out… beware, master, for they watch and strike without mercy…"

Lara closed the book, her gaze falling solemnly upon the lifeless body that lay beside her.

A servant, or perhaps an ally, of the notorious Black Alchemist Pieter van Eckhardt had come seeking the Painting while his master remained imprisoned.

She knew almost nothing about this man or his master, but as she rose to her feet, a sudden wave of revulsion swept over her.

This man had ventured here and met his end because he believed it was what his master desired. He sought the Painting on Eckhardt's behalf, but ultimately, he had failed.

Something within this place had thwarted his efforts. Her heart sank as she considered the implications. From her extensive experience, she knew that ancient tomb builders who utilized curses and guardians never skimped on their defenses. She was acutely aware that whatever had killed this man might still be there, just as eager to protect the Painting now as it had been centuries ago.

Lara slinging the crossbow across her shoulders. It would serve as a handy tool for hitting things if nothing else.

Lara shoved the corpse out of her way with a swift kick, pushing her nagging fears firmly to the back of her mind. The door ahead posed no obstacle; its bolts slid open effortlessly, the dry air having preserved the frame from warping.

She had barely taken five steps when her eyes widened in astonishment. The passageway's rough-hewn walls transformed into a corridor of finely wrought stone, glowing in hues of honey, burnt sugar, and vintage brandy, polished to a mirror-like sheen. Elegant pillars and buttresses stood like an honor guard along the hallway, which stretched as long as a cricket pitch. Copper and crystal lamps hung from chains, their fey radiance casting eerie reflections on the walls. Despite the hallway's beauty, an oppressive malevolence seemed to watch her every move, affronted by her intrusion and ready to punish her at the slightest provocation.

"Was this what the man had fled from?" Lara whispered.

At the end of the hallway, Lara paused before a plain-looking wooden door, straining to hear any sound from the other side. She flung the door open, and a sickening crunch echoed through the space. A tangle of rags, rusting armor, and brown-stained bones clattered to the floor. An early-Medieval Great Helm, complete with a slit visor, rolled and came to rest at her feet. She gingerly picked it up, feeling the desiccated skull rattling inside.

Lara let out a frustrated sigh, her shoulders sagging as she surveyed the fragments in her hands.

"It's just my luck," she muttered, her voice tinged with a mix of annoyance and resignation, "to stumble upon something rare and precious, only to break it before I can truly appreciate its natural, undisturbed beauty."

Lara tossed the broken helm aside and took a good, long look around her new surroundings. Her eyes drank in the sight of intricate arches and balustrades, tiled floors adorned with rich patterns in ochre and gold, and a high domed ceiling that rivaled the grandeur of the Hagia Sophia. The air felt cool on her bare arms, carrying the faintest whiff of sulfur and woodsmoke.

Cautiously, she stalked the chamber's perimeter, ever wary of hidden traps. The center of the great room was sunken, inlaid with exquisitely detailed images of the zodiac, planetary calendars, and the changing seasons. The maiden Aquarius poured foaming jets of jade from an ewer carved from a single piece of mother-of-pearl. Sagittarius, the Archer, leaped across a field of stars, his tawny centaur's body alive with threads of amber and mahogany-colored agate.

Lara was astonished at the artistry and even more amazed that such intricate work was set on the floor, where careless feet could trample and scuff it into oblivion. It seemed sacrilegious to present such beauty in a place where it could be so easily damaged. An eerie hush hung over the chamber, undulating with the echoes of her booted feet as if she were underwater.

It felt like there should be people here. Hooded and cloaked figures, chant in solemn procession.

There were three imposing doors leading off the grand hall, each adorned with a plate of burnished gold. These plates, intricately etched, bore one of the ancient symbols representing the four classical elements. These same symbols were artistically inlaid into the central montage of the floor, creating a seamless and harmonious design. Across the room, beneath a fractured stairway, a small alcove caught her eye, its niche conspicuously empty.

Nothing in Werner's notebook had prepared her for this. Neither Carvier's exhaustive research had hinted at such an opulent and elaborate hiding place for the Painting.

Lara had learned to maintain a liberal imagination when it came to the creations of humankind, especially those driven by secrecy and the passage of centuries. Yet, the thought that such an elaborate structure had been built in secret, hundreds of years ago, beneath the bustling city of Paris was nothing short of astounding.

"So, logically, I can only proceed once I've filled this alcove," Lara mused aloud, moving closer to examine it in detail. Turning around, she spotted a map of the world mounted on the wall.

"This shows the locations of all the possible sites of the paintings. But without the Obscura engravings, they mean nothing."

As she scrutinized the map further, she noticed the five elemental symbols marked at each location. The first was in France, represented by the fire symbol. The next was in Germany, marked with the earth symbol. Continuing her examination, she saw Turkey with the air symbol and Italy with the water symbol.

"This one is strange," she muttered to herself, her gaze lingering on the final symbol. "The fifth symbol represents spirit located somewhere in Prague."

The mystery deepened as she pondered the significance of the spirit symbol, and the hidden truths that lay beneath it.

Lara glanced back at the chamber's central chandelier. It dominated the room like a thundercloud made of black iron, its sconces thick with smoking candles that gave off a heavy, languid light. The chandelier seemed out of place, almost supernatural in its presence, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls.

It was uncanny how the places she explored almost always had some sort of lighting—be it cave mold, torches, or the wan, faerie-like lamps she'd seen earlier. It wasn't as though anyone else could have gotten into these sealed, ancient sites to light them before her. She suspected that there was a secret society behind it all, ensuring these places were prepared for her arrival.

Now and then, a drop of molten tallow would drip down onto the magnificent tiled floor. If the normal laws of nature applied, then the bejeweled patterns should have been covered with several centuries' worth of wax. But even as she watched, the greasy blemish disappeared without a trace, absorbed by some unseen force.

Ever alert for traps waiting to slice her face off, she took a deep breath and prodded the symbol for fire. Immediately, the three doors opposite her groaned and shuddered open. Three doors, each with three symbols underneath them, and only one would lead her to the key. She approached cautiously. Each door led to a short hallway connected to its neighbors by portcullises. Identical levers were placed within each compartment, and it was obvious that pulling a lever would either open a new chamber beyond or possibly cause the not-very-stable wooden floor to collapse.

The floor creaked under her feet, and she hoped that dry rot would do the same thing as mistakenly pulling the wrong lever. There was a plaque just above each lever, each with a different elemental symbol on it. As her fingers closed around the handle, it occurred to her that these were different from the plate symbols hanging above the doors. She had chosen the doorway for fire, but the symbol by her hand was for wind.

How very sneaky.

She smiled, pulling her hand away and going back to choose a different doorway. Now the symbol above the lever in her hand was a sunburst of flames.

"Let's hope I'm as clever as I look." Lara gritted her teeth and wrenched the metal pole down with all her strength.