Page 67 of Chasing Eternity

“By restoring the Antikythera Mechanism,” I continue, “Arthur believes he can rewrite his life’s script, give himself a better, more Hollywood ending.”

“Luckily for us,” Braxton says, a hint of resolve in his voice, “we still have years to sort this all out. Like you said, there are loads of pieces left to uncover.”

Regrettably, I have to dash his hope. “Except that’s no longer true.” I watch Braxton’s face closely as I relay everything that’s happened, all that I’ve learned since I last saw him.

“So, he’s discovered a shortcut,” Braxton repeats, eyes wide with realization.

“And any day now,” I continue, “he’s going to send me out to fetch him the Star.”

The spark in Braxton’s eyes fades as he processes everything I just said.

“And when he does,” I continue, “I’m going to be ready for it.”

“But how?” he asks, his brow furrowing, jaw clenching.

I break away from him and turn to the wall, tracing my fingers along the cool, damp interior of the Orcus’s mouth. When I come to a spot that seems to vibrate under my touch, I flatten my palm to the rock wall. Remembering what my dad taught me, I close my eyes, take a few deep, cleansing breaths, and try to merge with its energy.

A burst of excitement shoots through me as the wall begins to shake.

Let go of whatever it is you hope to see, my father said.Let the vision unfold on its own.

Only this time, there’s no vision. The wall continues to quiver and quake, seeming to give way beneath my weight.

“Tasha,” Braxton says, “look!”

I open my eyes to find this seemingly immovable slab of stone yielding under my hand. Mirroring the hidden mechanism in my dad’s New York City apartment, the stone instantly shifts, revealing a doorway to an entirely new realm.

Together, Braxton and I step over the threshold into a breathtaking space.

The moment we cross deeper into the room, the hidden door seals shut, plunging us into a world of darkness.

34

In a panic, I reach for Braxton’s hand, only to find he’s no longer beside me. A chill courses through me as I call out his name, my voice echoing off the cavernous walls.

A moment later, the rasp of a match striking pierces the silence, and a flickering candle’s light bathes the space in a warm, unsteady glow.

“Here.” Braxton steps into view, handing me a lit candle before lighting another for himself.

With my candle held high, I survey the space. The ceiling and walls are adorned with breathtaking murals, painted by some of the world’s most illustrious artists. The turbulent brushwork of Van Gogh, the dramatic play of light and shadow of Caravaggio, Michelangelo’s deeply devoted brushstrokes, and the insightful genius of da Vinci are all represented here.

These walls are a treasure that would easily move an art historian to tears. Yet tragically, they are destined to remain unseen by the outside world.

“Why would he keep this hidden?” Braxton’s voice breaks the heavy silence, echoing my own thoughts.

“It’s a gallery of grief,” I whisper. “A private sanctuary for his pain. This must be where he comes to confront his demons, to bask in the beauty he can never fully possess.”

In the dim glow of candlelight, Braxton’s eyes meet mine, filled with wonder and sadness. “It’s incredible and tragic at the same time.”

I nod, my heart heavy with the weight of our discovery. “Arthur’s collected the world’s beauty to surround himself with what he cannot create or control. It’s his way of coping with the loss he can never truly overcome.”

You’ve been here before, done this before, a voice insistently whispers in my head.

“In Roman mythology,” Braxton says, “Orcus is a god of the underworld, tasked with punishing those who break their oaths. The Romans believed that breaking a sacred promise invited Orcus’s wrath—a sort of divine justice for failing to honor one’s word.”

The words settle over me as I stop before what looks to be an altar, carved from a massive slab of rose quartz, a stone renowned for its associations with love. Its soft pink hue glows in the candlelight, casting an ethereal light around the room, adding to the solemn, almost sacred atmosphere.

Meticulously arranged across the top is an otherworldly display of white flowers—their beauty so exquisite they seem to almost transcend this physical world. Held aloft by nearly invisible stems, they appear to levitate far above the altar, creating a spectral ambiance in the dimly lit room.