2: The Scroll

Underground Chamber, Church of the Holy Sepulchre – Jerusalem, Israel

4:00 P.M.

The air was stale, thick with the weight of centuries. Nathaniel Asher ran his fingers along the edge of the glass case, his pulse hammering. The scroll inside wasn't just old—it was dangerous.

Leah Rahmani was still staring at it, her face pale. "I never thought I'd see it," she murmured.

"What is it?" Nate asked, though he already had a feeling.

She exhaled. "It's the original Gospel of John."

Nate's brow furrowed. "The Gospel of John is already in the Bible."

"Not this one," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

A moment of silence stretched between them, the weight of those words settling like dust on stone.

Then she turned to him, eyes sharp. "John wrote two accounts. One was Revelation—the apocalyptic visions everyone knows. The other…" She gestured toward the scroll. "This one was hidden."

Nate swallowed. "Hidden from who?"

Leah hesitated. "From the Church. From history. From anyone who might realize the Book of Revelation isn't prophecy. It's… a warning."

A chill crawled up Nate's spine. "A warning about what?"

She looked at him then, eyes dark with something that might have been fear.

"That the events of Revelation wouldn't happen naturally. Someone would try to make them happen."

---

The First Seal in Motion

Somewhere above them, the world was unraveling.

Nate's phone buzzed with breaking news alerts. He glanced down, scrolling rapidly.

{GLOBAL STOCK MARKETS COLLAPSE AFTER MASSIVE CYBERATTACK

CHAOS IN JERUSALEM: WHITE-CLAD RIDERS SPARK END-TIMES PANIC

VATICAN RELEASES STATEMENT: "THE END IS NOT YET"}

"This isn't just hysteria," Nate muttered. "This is coordinated."

Leah nodded. "Someone is using Revelation like a script."

He thought back to the text message—the frantic plea from Father Gabriel before he was killed. They are trying to make it real.

The First Seal had spoken of a white horse and a conqueror. And now? A symbolic rider in white appeared, a cyberattack crippled the economy, and fear was spreading like wildfire.

Nate took a step closer to the case. "So, what does the scroll say? What did Gabriel die for?"

Leah hesitated. "We can't open it here. If it's exposed to too much air—"

A voice echoed down the stone corridor, cutting her off.

"Step away from the case."

Both of them turned sharply.

A man stood at the entrance of the chamber, partially silhouetted by the flickering light. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair graying at the temples, and in his gloved hand was a pistol fitted with a silencer.

Leah tensed beside Nate.

"Who the hell are you?" Nate demanded.

The man stepped forward, unfazed. "The scroll does not belong to you."

"Yeah?" Nate said. "And who does it belong to?"

The man smiled faintly. "The ones who have protected it for two thousand years."

Leah inhaled sharply. "The Order of the Keys."

Nate glanced at her. "You know them?"

She nodded. "They're an old sect. Secretive. They've been operating since the fall of the Temple in Jerusalem."

The man's gaze settled on Nate. "You shouldn't have come here, Mr. Asher. You've spent your career exposing secrets. Some are better left buried."

Nate's mind raced. He wasn't armed, and he doubted Leah was either. They needed time.

"So," he said, keeping his voice even, "if the scroll is so dangerous, why not destroy it?"

The man exhaled, almost amused. "Because knowing something is dangerous… is power. Because sometimes, history needs a guiding hand."

Leah stiffened beside him. "You're the ones behind this, aren't you?"

The man tilted his head slightly.

"We are not the architects," he said. "But we ensure the blueprint is followed."

Nate's stomach turned. The blueprint. Revelation.

Someone was orchestrating these events, using the world's deepest fears—prophecy, the apocalypse, divine will—as a weapon. And the worst part? People would believe it.

People would want it to happen.

Leah's breath hitched. "You're trying to break the seals."

The man gave a slight nod. "The First Seal has opened. The Second follows soon."

Nate took a slow step forward. "And what happens when you get to the last one?"

The man's smile was unreadable. "Then the world begins anew."

Then he raised the gun.

---

The Escape

Adrenaline surged. Nate grabbed the nearest object—a heavy candlestick from an altar—and hurled it at the man's face.

The shot fired, ricocheting off stone. Leah moved fast, grabbing a metal stand and slamming it into their attacker's arm.

The man stumbled, his silencer clattering against the stone.

"Run!" Leah grabbed Nate's sleeve, yanking him toward a side tunnel.

They sprinted through the underground corridors, their breath ragged. Behind them, the man was already recovering, his footsteps quickening.

"Where does this lead?" Nate gasped.

Leah pointed. "There's an old passage that leads to the Armenian Quarter—if it's still open."

Bullets whined off the stone behind them.

They turned a corner, bursting into a narrow stairwell, and Leah yanked open a rusted door at the top. Sunlight spilled through the opening.

They stumbled into the blinding heat of the Jerusalem afternoon.

Tourists and pilgrims filled the square. No one noticed the two figures slipping into the crowd, vanishing before the Order of the Keys could follow.