The Last Temple / Season 1, Episode 11
Secrets in Stone
The air in the tunnel was thick with the stink of wet stone and decay, a cloying weight that pressed against Miriam’s chest as she crouched beneath the jagged shelf of rock. Her fingers dug into the damp grit, nails scraping for purchase, while her other hand pressed the bundled scroll tighter against her ribs, the leather binding biting into her skin through the thin linen of her tunic. Her breath came in shallow, ragged sips, barely enough to keep her head from spinning, but she couldn’t risk more—not with the Roman boots scuffing the tunnel floor just beyond the shelf’s shadow. The sound was a slow, deliberate crunch, each step grinding pebbles under iron soles, and it dragged her nerves taut as a bowstring. She couldn’t see the soldier, not from this angle, not with her face pressed low to the cold stone, but she felt him. The heat of his presence, the faint clank of his gear—a sword hilt brushing against armor, a strap creaking under weight—seemed to fill the narrow space. Her heart slammed against her breastbone, each thud loud enough she swore he’d hear it. She bit her lip, tasting the salt of sweat and the metallic tang of fear, and forced her eyes to stay on the sliver of tunnel she could see. A flicker...