"Sylvie…"
A soft, familiar voice gently echoed at the edges of my hazy consciousness.
I slowly opened my eyes. The white, blinding light made me instinctively squint. After a moment of adaptation, the scene before me gradually became clearer –
I was… I was sitting in the cabin of a spaceship. Yes, a spaceship. The seat beneath me was incredibly soft, perfectly molding to the curves of my body, like a custom-made cradle.
Through the porthole, the universe stretched out, deep and infinite, an ink-blue vault, dotted with billions of distant, twinkling stars.
Mom… it was Mom. She was sitting right next to me, dressed in an immaculate white spacesuit. She had removed her helmet, simply turned her head to the side, and smiled at me.
"Sylvie, I miss you," she said softly, her voice ethereal, as if it came from very far away, or as if it resonated directly in my heart.
Sylvie, I miss you.
"Mom… me too… I miss you too. I…"
She extended her hand, gently pointing to the grand sea of stars outside the porthole.
I was about to say something, but a sharp ringing in my ears and violent dizziness suddenly assailed me. The starry sky and Mom's face began to twist, to spin, like colors thrown into a washing machine, quickly blurring into shapeless chaos…
"Sphinx! Wake up! Sphinx!!!"
In a daze, I heard Cyclops's anxious shouts, as well as other confused noises, like the clashing of instruments and hurried footsteps.
A sharp, sudden pain pierced my arm. A hot, burning flow was forcibly injected into my veins, and immediately my heart began to beat frantically, like a war drum struck by a heavy hammer! "Dong, dong! Dong, dong!" Each beat shook my chest to the point of numbness.
Something cold was brutally pressed against my face. Pure oxygen, with a strong rusty smell, wildly invaded my nostrils, making me cough until my lungs tore, tears streaming uncontrollably.
I abruptly opened my eyes and found myself miserably lying on a cold, hard stone, covered with greenish, slippery moss. Cyclops's face, extremely enlarged and marked by intense anxiety and worry, occupied almost my entire field of vision. His graying beard stubble was distinct, the wrinkles on his forehead forming a "川" (Chinese character meaning river, here a deep frown).
Behind him, Baba Yaga, one knee on the ground, calmly and quickly directed several team members who were busy providing first aid to Anubis and Cobra, also slumped on the ground and unconscious. Oxygen tanks hissed, the metal needles of syringes shone with a cold glint under the uncertain light.
Marto, still in shock, described the scene to me with gestures: when Cyclops and the main part of the team had hurriedly arrived at our last contact point, the three of us – me, Anubis, and Cobra – were slumped in extremely strange, even grotesque, postures, scattered across this small clearing. Each of us seemed to be a puppet pulled by invisible strings, plunged into a hallucinatory, bizarre, and shimmering universe, inaccessible to others, deaf to external calls.
Cobra excitedly chased a terrified hedgehog, shouting words in the Tebiktaï dialect, gesticulating and sputtering.
As for Anubis, like a cat that had just learned to climb trees, he was clinging to a sacred oak. While painstakingly hoisting himself upwards, he kept reaching out to grab non-existent "fruits" on the branches.
And I… well, according to Cyclops's later description, I was sitting cross-legged on a relatively flat stone, my eyes closed, my eyebrows slightly frowned, my hands slowly and rhythmically tracing complex gestures in front of me that no one understood, as if I wanted to bring someone down.
"My God…" Cyclops, seeing us gradually regain our senses, but our gaze still empty, couldn't help but swear under his breath.
The team doctor, very experienced, and several security members had quickly taken samples of the ambient air, as well as samples of the odor emanating from these red fritillaries. The results were not long in coming.
"The air here… the carbon dioxide content is absurdly high, almost fifteen times the normal!" said Krishna, looking at the data on the analyzer, his face grave. "There is also hydrogen sulfide and sulfur dioxide… the concentrations are not fatal, but absolutely sufficient to cause strong hallucinations, and prolonged inhalation can lead to central nervous system disorders."
After hearing this, Cyclops swept his gaze over the three of us, his attention finally settling on me, with his usual, unconcealed mockery: "I'm sorry to have interrupted your… beautiful dreams."
The evening humidity, mixed with the smell of the diesel generator, seemed particularly oppressive to us when we painstakingly dragged our feet back to the temporary base. This sudden collective hallucination hung like an invisible shadow over everyone's mind.
In the improvised meeting room of the container, the atmosphere was even heavier. The two Marshall soldiers, like two temple guardians, stood near the door, arms crossed, looking deeply bored, occasionally sweeping us with a scrutinizing gaze, impatience painted on their faces.
Around the long table, Anubis, Cobra, and I entered almost at the same time, but as if we had concerted, each occupied a corner of the table, our gazes carefully avoiding each other.
Cobra had his head down, Anubis had his arms crossed and was looking out the window, and I was consulting the data on my tablet.
"Ahem." Cyclops cleared his throat. The two Marshall soldiers remained ostensibly seated near the door, their expressions hostile.
"Well, gentlemen," said Cyclops, turning on the projector, his voice weary. "We… experienced some incidents today. But overall, we have confirmed the approximate location of the 'Gate of Supplication' and have a preliminary idea of the complex structure that might lie beneath." He paused, his gaze turning to the three of us.
I was massaging my temples, preparing to talk about the air composition problem, when another thought suddenly came to me: "Before discussing the entrance, Cyclops, Anubis, last night, without informing anyone, left the team on his own initiative for a solo action, and discovered and cleaned an important artifact on the island – a Saracen gold astrolabe, Libélin imitation. Were you aware of this?" I stared at Anubis, my tone calm but firm.
"Oh?" Cyclops looked obviously surprised. He adjusted his glasses and looked at Anubis. "Anubis, is that correct?"
The atmosphere in the meeting room cooled by a few more degrees.
Anubis didn't even blink. He slowly moved his gaze from the window to my face, an amused smile on his lips: "I did indeed find a few interesting little things. As for acting on my own initiative… I just found the night at the camp a bit boring, so I went for a walk. I was lucky, I stumbled upon it by chance." He paused, then, changing the subject, his voice became slightly sharper, almost imperceptibly: "But since Sphinx is so interested in my 'night walks,' I might as well share a few other 'walk discoveries.'"
He stood up, walked over to the projector, his gaze sweeping our group to finally rest on the rudimentary treasure map and the radar scan image. "You all noticed these fritillaries, the statue, and the stone plaque. But have you noticed that almost all the termite mounds on the island show an abnormal inclination, oriented towards a specific direction? Furthermore, the magnetic field of certain areas shows weak regular fluctuations, particularly near water points and in the area where we found the statue."
He paused for a moment, as if to savor the perplexed expression on our faces: "And these banyan trees, ordinary in appearance, some oftheir aerial roots have a very strange growth pattern, as if they were deliberately avoiding certain underground 'things.' I even found on a few rock outcrops traces of polishing that seemed artificial, very discreet, but which do not escape attentive observation."
This guy had landed on the island at the same time as us, but his way of observing the environment was that of an experienced hunting dog, with a meticulousness that would give you goosebumps.
Cobra, listening open-mouthed, murmured: "Termite mounds? Banyan roots? What does that have to do with the treasure?"
Anubis glanced at him. "All of this indicates that the subsoil of this island could harbor an artificial or semi-artificial system much larger and more complex than we imagine. This 'Gate of Supplication' may really only be the tip of the iceberg. And these gases… rather than a natural emanation, I would lean towards a 'system' that 'breathes,' or let's say, a kind of ancient 'defense mechanism' still operational."
"Defense mechanism?" I frowned. "You mean these deadly gases are man-made?"
"We cannot rule out this possibility," Anubis said in a neutral tone. "Or else, the ancients cleverly used the particular geological conditions of this place. For example, intermittent geothermal activity causing the decomposition of certain minerals, releasing specific gases that would then be channeled through a pre-established system of underground galleries."
"So, how the hell do we get in?"
"If it's simply a matter of 'getting in,'" Anubis turned to him, his tone light, "I can suggest a lead. Since 'Yaernladeagno' could mean 'border gate that only opens through sacrifice or exchange,' is it possible that the stone plaque itself, or the statue, is a kind of 'lock'? Requiring a specific 'offering' or 'talisman' to be activated?"
"A talisman?" Cyclops looked interested.
Anubis smiled evasively: "Who knows. The wisdom of the ancients sometimes surpasses our imagination."
"I object to any attempt at destruction!" Minos immediately declared. "Without understanding the principle, any direct contact with the plaque or the statue could cause irreparable damage!"
"So we just stand here twiddling our thumbs?" Cobra said, looking dejected.
"Alright, calm down everyone," Cyclops said, raising his hand. "Regarding how to enter through the 'Gate of Supplication,' we indeed need a more comprehensive plan. And besides," he changed the subject, "according to Libélin labor law, tomorrow and the day after are our legal rest days. After continuous intensive work, everyone also needs to rest."
The officer at the door, hearing the word "rest" (this word having a similar pronunciation in Félagnien and Libélin), immediately became alert. One of them called out to Cyclops in English (representing Félagnien): "Rest? You're taking two days off? No way! We don't have that much patience!"
Cyclops immediately put on his professional smile and reassured him in English: "Please be assured, gentlemen, resting is for working better. My team needs to organize data and prepare more precise equipment, so we can acquire what you want more safely and efficiently. We won't leave the island these two days, just adjust our work pace." He skillfully avoided words like "archaeology" and "research" that they didn't like to hear. The officers remained skeptical, but seeing Cyclops's assured air, they eventually stopped vehemently opposing, contenting themselves with muttering a few words.
Then, Cyclops turned to us and continued in Libélin: "Sphinx and I will take advantage of these two days to comprehensively review all the data and documentation we have gathered so far, and compare them, to see if we can find more clues in the minute traces of history. Particularly concerning this 'Ancient Aurian' civilization and their possible 'sacrificial rites.'"
He turned to Marto: "Marto, if we finally decide to try to enter, the oxygen supply system and individual exploration equipment will be crucial. You are in charge of establishing a detailed list of equipment and a preparation plan based on the worst-case scenario, including survival systems in high gas concentration environments and emergency rescue equipment."
Marto nodded, quickly taking notes in his notebook.
"As for the others," Cyclops looked at us, "while ensuring safety, you can carry out more meticulous ground searches and surface cleaning around the camp, as well as in the areas we have already summarily explored. But remember, do not touch the central area of this 'Gate of Supplication' for now. I don't want to see anyone chasing a hedgehog and calling for help anymore."
My gaze returned to the projected radar image, this complex, deeply buried structure resembling a huge question mark. "Cyclops, have we considered another possibility?" I said. "If the danger behind this 'Gate of Supplication' far exceeds our predictions, or if its value is not what we imagine, should we adjust our strategy? For example, forgo a direct entry for now, and instead proceed with systematic excavations and prospecting, layer by layer, over the entire island? Although the workload and the necessary funds for this would probably be astronomical…"
"This solution is theoretically the safest, but also the least realistic," Cyclops sighed. "We don't have that much time, and even less that much funding. Moreover, our two 'guests' on board, I'm afraid they won't accept us doing 'archaeology' here quietly for ten or eight years." He cast a meaningful glance towards the two soldiers at the door, who were nonchalantly picking their nails.
"So, boss," Cobra asked cautiously, "what's behind this 'Gate of Supplication'? Is it really… a treasure?"
Cyclops remained silent for a moment, his gaze deep: "That's precisely the answer we need to find. But Sphinx, you reminded me of something," he turned to me. "Regarding this 'secret,' we might perhaps consider another approach. The 'defense mechanism' and the 'respiratory system' mentioned by Anubis are very enlightening. If it's not a supernatural force, couldn't it be a kind of… extremely sophisticated, but long-lost ancient technology?"
He paused, as if talking to himself, or as if guiding our thoughts: "For example, an ecological balance system using geothermal energy and specific mineral reactions to maintain a particular underground environment? Or else, an ancient mechanism relying on a complex mechanical structure and acoustic principles to protect the central area? This 'sacrifice' would then only be the 'key' or the 'energy' needed to activate this complex system. And the 'treasure' behind the 'gate,' might perhaps not be gold and jewels, but… lost knowledge, or a control center capable of explaining all these mysteries."
Anubis, who had listened in silence until then, suddenly spoke: "I have another hypothesis. If an artificial or semi-artificial system of galleries actually exists underground, the behavior of attraction or repulsion of these creatures could, unintentionally, indicate the layout of these galleries, or even… the location of air vents."
The soldiers at the door had obviously lost all patience with this long discussion they didn't understand. They began to pace nervously and clear their throats, signaling that the meeting should end.
Cyclops understood and ended the discussion.
Although disagreements had been numerous, we at least had a preliminary direction and two days of respite.