THE BLACKTHORN CODEX
Episode 29 — The Eyes of Silence
November 16, 2023 — 12:32 PM
The sky finally cleared. The road to France opened before them, but the weight of the engraved inscription still hung in their minds. They were no longer mere travelers.
They were now bearers of the Masters' oath.
And as they walked away, a discreet crack opened on the altar behind them. Countless eyes lit up in the silence.
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The crack remained open on the cloister wall. Countless eyes stared at the space where Clarisse and Léandre had just passed. No sound, no shout, only an icy observation, as if the stone itself were breathing and scrutinizing. Then, with an imperceptible shudder, the crack closed, swallowing the gazes into silence.
Clarisse had stopped in the middle of the path, as if frozen by an intuition. She slowly turned back toward the cloister.
"Léandre... did you feel it?"
"Yes. Something has opened... but not for us. For what comes behind."
The road to France began. The gray sky pressed down on the earth with its weight. The hills seemed dead, the gnarled trees stretching out their branches like petrified arms. Clarisse clutched her coat, but it wasn't the cold that haunted her. It was the feeling of being followed by eyes she couldn't name.
In the silence of the journey, the Codex began to tremble again. Léandre reluctantly opened it. A sentence wrote itself, the black ink spreading like venom across the pages:
"The eyes are the announcement. The third altar does not judge… it observes. And everything it observes, it demands."
The sky was covered with a dark veil. In each village they passed, they encountered tired faces, inhabitants who seemed to avoid their gaze. As if, already, the influence of the altars was spreading in invisible circles.
Clarisse said, almost in a low voice:
"Do you think they see what I carry within me?"
"They don't see," replied Léandre. "They feel. And that's enough to frighten them."
The capital welcomed them with a muffled din: cars, voices, light rain. But beyond the urban bustle, Clarisse perceived something else. Beneath the ground, a constant murmur. Like breathing, but a thousand times amplified, coming from the depths.
She turned to Léandre, her eyes shining with anguish.
"Can you hear it too?"
"Yes. These are the catacombs. The third altar awaits us."
3:10 PM
As they plunged deeper into the alleys near Denfert-Rochereau, a figure emerged from the shadows. An old man, wearing a threadbare black coat, watched them motionless. His eyes were veiled, but he seemed to see them perfectly.
He raised a trembling hand and said in a raspy voice, "You don't go down there alone. Those who go without a guide... never come out."
Léandre exchanged a worried look with Clarisse. The third altar wasn't just waiting for them. It was already preparing its trap.