Shadows of the Scroll

7007 words

The crevice bit into Miriam’s back, sharp stone pressing through her worn linen tunic as she wedged herself deeper into the shadow. Her breath came shallow, barely a whisper, her chest tight with the weight of the scroll strapped beneath her cloak. The damp leather binding pressed against her ribs, a constant ache, as if the words inside were alive, demanding to be felt. Salome crouched beside her, small frame trembling, her bony knees drawn up under her chin. The girl’s eyes were wide, catching the faint flicker of Roman torchlight that danced along the tunnel walls just beyond their hiding place. The air hung heavy with the reek of wet stone and rot, the cold seeping through their thin sandals, numbing toes already raw from the endless trek through flooded passages. “Move, and we’re done,” Miriam hissed, her voice a thread of sound, barely audible over the distant drip of water echoing through the tunnel. Salome’s head jerked in a nod, her lips pressed into a pale line. The girl’s fingers clung to Miriam’s sleeve, a desperate grip, as if letting go would mean tumbling into the dark forever. Beyond the crevice, the Romans were close—too close. Their boots scraped against the uneven stone, a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent a shiver up Miriam’s spine. Voices muttered in harsh...