Victor Walder hurried through the narrow streets toward the train station. He emerged into the main square, the same plaza dominated by the fountain of the knight and the four wolves.
As he started across, he saw a figure standing in the middle of the open space—waiting. Victor froze. Then, behind him, another man appeared, blocking the way back.
Walder inhaled deeply and assessed the situation. Both men approached, raising their weapons. Dressed entirely in black, they moved like hunters. The taller of the two—square-jawed and broad-shouldered—was Marek. His partner, Ivo, smaller and sharp-featured, followed half a step behind.
"No sudden moves, Mr. Walder," Marek warned.
"How do you know my name?" Victor asked, genuinely surprised.
"We've been following you since Rome," Marek said coolly. "You know why we're here."
From the corner of the square, Donald Williams arrived, panting and trembling. He ducked behind a wall, peering around the edge to watch the confrontation unfold.
"We know you sent the manuscript to someone," Marek said. "We saw you at the post office. And somehow, I doubt you were mailing postcards."
"I told you—I don't know anything," Walder replied, his tone steady but his jaw tight.
"What's in the backpack?" Marek demanded, yanking it from Victor's shoulder.
Victor held on for a moment, but Ivo pressed his gun against his back.
"Don't try it, Mr. Walder," Ivo said softly. "Unless you want a hole between your ribs."
Victor let go. Marek tore the pack open and began rummaging through it—until he pulled out the egg-shaped artifact, which glowed faintly in the dim light. The carved skeletons seemed to writhe across its surface.
"Christ…" Marek muttered.
Ivo leaned forward. "It's just a damned egg."
"Where's the manuscript?" Marek hissed, shoving the barrel of his gun beneath Walder's chin.
"I sent it somewhere safe," Victor said.
"Go get the car," Marek ordered, slinging the backpack over his shoulder but leaving it unzipped. "We can't drag him through the streets like this."
"What about you?" Ivo asked.
"I'll notify Lilith."
Ivo hesitated, then nodded. "On it."
He holstered his weapon and ran off toward one of the side streets. Marek kept his gun on Victor's back while fumbling for his phone.
Then—a flash of blue light tore across the square. It struck the fountain's statue and shattered it into flying fragments. Marek dove to the ground, dragging Walder down with him. Another beam sizzled through the air, hitting a streetlamp that exploded in a shower of sparks.
Marek rolled behind the basin of the fountain, returning fire blindly. Blue particles rained through the air—each blast lighting up the night like lightning.
Donald hit the cobblestones, covering his head as debris flew. The firefight echoed through the plaza until, suddenly, silence fell. Marek peered over the rim of the fountain—just in time to see that Walder was gone, the backpack missing.
"Shit!" Marek shouted, vaulting over the edge and firing after the fleeing figure. Walder darted into a narrow side street, vanishing between the shadows.
Moments later, a car screeched around the corner. Ivo jumped out, weapon ready. "What happened?"
"Someone opened fire from the other end of the square," Marek snarled, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him behind cover. "He escaped."
They crouched together, scanning the rooftops for movement. Convinced the sniper was gone, the two mercenaries bolted for the car and sped off in pursuit.
Donald emerged from his hiding place, shaken. The plaza was a mess—broken stone, smoking lamps, fragments of the knight's statue scattered across the cobblestones. He looked around in awe at the destruction. The weapon—whatever it was—had power beyond anything he'd imagined.
Pulling out his phone, he tried calling again. No signal. He cursed under his breath and was about to try once more when something caught his eye.
A glint—a few meters away.
He walked toward it and bent down. There, half-buried in the rubble, lay the egg. His trembling fingers brushed over the dancing skeletons carved into its surface. Then, lifting his gaze, he froze.
Perched on the roof of a nearby building stood a figure in a hooded cloak, its cape fluttering in the cold night air. Two glowing red eyes met his.
Before Donald could even scream, the creature leapt into the darkness, vanishing across the rooftops.
Donald remained frozen, staring into the void where it had stood. His mind screamed that it couldn't be real.
Then—a screech of tires.
A Fiat burst into the square, nearly running him down. Two men jumped out.
"What the hell are you doing, you idiot?" one shouted.
"Where's Victor?" demanded the other. "And what's wrong with this fat bastard?"
Mike grabbed Donald by the collar. "What's wrong with you—did your cholesterol reach your brain?"
Donald's pupils were wide with shock. "We have to go," he whispered.
"Where's Walder?"
"Let's go!" Donald shouted. "I'll explain in the car—but we have to get the hell out of here!"
The three of them piled into the car and sped away.
Meanwhile, Victor Walder was sprinting through the narrow streets toward the station. The road narrowed until it became a tight alley. Behind him, Marek and Ivo's car roared after him—but when they entered the alley, they found themselves wedged, the walls too narrow to pass.
Furious, Marek climbed halfway out of the sunroof and fired. Bullets tore through the air, but Victor was fast—dodging, weaving—and he burst out onto the main street just as the train pulled into the station.
He shoved past startled passengers, jumped aboard, and the doors slid shut behind him. The train lurched forward, gathering speed. Victor slumped to the floor, catching his breath, watching the platform fade into the distance through the window.
The train picked up speed as it entered the tunnel.
But then—without warning—the tracks switched.
A freight train, already barreling out of the tunnel at full speed, now shared the same line. Both locomotives wailed their horns in a desperate, echoing cry.
The impact came a second later.
The explosion lit the night sky over San Onofre di Monti—an inferno that would be remembered for generations.
When Marek and Ivo arrived, the sound of the blast still echoed through the valley, a shockwave rattling the windows of every house. Lights flicked on throughout the terrified town as a massive column of fire rose beyond the station.
"Jesus Christ…" Ivo whispered.
Marek clenched his jaw. "Lilith will be furious when she learns we lost him."
Another detonation rocked the air, the station consumed by flames.
The two mercenaries ducked behind a wall, shielding themselves from the heat. When the roaring subsided, Marek grabbed Ivo by the front of his jacket.
"No one hears a word about this," he snarled. "If you open your mouth—I'll kill you myself."