THE SHADOW OF THE VALLEY THE DEATH

GEOVANNA ENTERED THE APARTMENT where Gregory Evans was staying just as he was getting out of the shower. She hung her coat on the coat rack in the hallway, going over to him to gently give him a kiss on the lips, which Greg immediately dodged.

— Still under Alissa's spell?

— Her charms are permanent.

— I imagine...

— Glad to see you — Greg said, purposefully cutting her off. — Now that you're here, I can tell you what I found out, but first of all, thank you for the frequency chart. I don't know what I would have done without it.

Then, without further ado, he invited her to sit on the sofa. In a few minutes, he told her everything he had learned from his investigations. Including the story of the sculptor whose eyes had been gouged out and his tongue cut out, the story of the Italian who linked Nostradamus's verses to the Velez chapel, and also the fact that there might be a treasure near Murcia.

— And how did you find out about this? — Geovanna found it strange that he had so much information, when the night before they only knew where to begin.

— Last night, after you left, I remembered where I'd heard Viana's question before: 'Who can glimpse, from below, the crack in the chain link?'

— Have you heard that phrase before? — The woman was unaware of that detail.

— Yes... well... it turns out I had dinner with Jorge at Wellington's a few days before his death. You already know... just when he told me briefly about the Toledo manuscript... — He tried to refresh her memory. — Before this, we had discussed Spanish cathedrals with my father-in-law as tourist attractions."

— You hadn't told me that... — she interrupted him.

— Yes! — she stated. — But let's leave that for another time. Now, it would be better if I showed you the translation...

With that, she went to the office and picked up some printed sheets.

— I want you to read them carefully and give me your opinion — she said, handing them over.

Geovanna began to read Toledo's manuscript, knowing in advance that doing so would incur the ancient precept that was punishable by death. Nevertheless, she decided to take the risk.

— Know, all who read this writing, that I, Jacob of Carthage, have decided of my own free will to reveal urbi et orbe the arcane of the temples hidden from the people and the way to reach the room where the true face of God, Our Lord, is hidden.

Whoever receives the knowledge of this word must seek to speak kindly to all about what I say, before this wisdom is lost in oblivion; in this I place all my hope.

If it happens that you are eager to know the truth, as many do, you will have to descend to the hells that rush behind a great chain, jackals and bearded columns, Jachin and Boaz. You will see, from below upward, when you stand before the pillars that my name will be signed there. In this hell I will be revealed to you.

I am and I am within.

Every man, every woman, can surrender themselves to God, Our Lord, stripping themselves of pride, in the darkness of a time, despite the The stupidity of human beings that corrupts reason and hides the telluric magic of stone. I am proud to descend from the ancestors of the Widow's Sons, experts in the art and technique of cathedrals, since my hands chiseled words in stone that the people read and understand, those who seek freedom. I love my work, but many will later say they were betrayed by my actions; they are the ones who betrayed them, those who deceive and do not tell the truth, those who do not say that we know how to speak with God, Our Lord.

You will seek my scriptum and descend to the region of Tubal-cain, where the columns that withstood the Flood remain and are now buried by the sands of those ancient waters. Beneath the part where darkness and chaos dwell, you will see what my eyes cannot see.

In the most noble and most loyal city of Murcia, April 10th, in the year of the birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ, one thousand five hundred and twenty-three.

Iacobus of Cartago