Chapter 10: The Preparation Ritual

Naples International Airport, Italy

Sahara emerged from the arrivals gate, her carry-on bag slung over one shoulder and her eyes scanning the crowd for Elias. The flight from Athens had been uneventful, giving her time to process the rapid developments of the past few days—the break-in at the laboratory, her encounter with Marcus Varro, and the bureaucratic maneuvering required to secure the artifacts in the university system.

She spotted Elias standing near a coffee shop, his tall figure distinctive even in the busy terminal. Their eyes met across the crowded space, and something in his expression—a mixture of relief and warmth—sent an unexpected flutter through her chest.

“Welcome to Italy,” he said as she approached, taking her bag in a gesture that felt both courteous and familiar. “Any complications with your departure from Athens?”

“Nothing obvious,” Sahara replied. “Though I took precautions in case I was being followed. How are things here?”

Before Elias could answer, he stepped closer, his free hand gently cupping her cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. Then, without another word, he kissed her—deeply, intensely, his lips claiming hers in a way that made the noise and chaos of the airport fade into the background. Sahara melted into the kiss, her hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt, her breath catching as the tension of the past few days dissolved in that single, electrifying moment.

When they finally broke apart, Elias rested his forehead against hers, a small smile playing on his lips. “Promising but challenging,” he said, echoing her earlier question. “We should wait until we’re somewhere more private for details.” He guided her toward the exit, maintaining a casual conversation about her flight as they made their way to the parking garage.

Once in the rental car, with the engine running to mask their conversation from potential listening devices, Elias provided a more detailed update.

“Layla and I found what appears to be a hidden entrance at the temple site in Cumae—a circular pattern in the floor visible only at specific times of day due to shadow effects. Accessing it officially would be ideal, but we haven’t found a way to arrange that yet.”

“I may have a solution,” Sahara said. “I spoke with Antonio at the Italian Archaeological Authority this morning. Apparently, he still feels very warmly about our time in Oxford.” She paused, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “He hinted that perhaps we should meet here.”

Elias raised an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and curiosity in his expression. “Oh? And how did that conversation go?”

Sahara shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Productive. He’s arranged for us to conduct a ‘specialized survey’ of the temple area tomorrow—official permission with minimal oversight.”

Elias’s grin widened. “Well, it seems like your diplomatic skills are as sharp as ever. That’s perfect. With official access, we can investigate properly without looking over our shoulders.”

“Where’s Layla now?” Sahara asked as they pulled out of the parking garage.

“At the archaeological archives, researching historical records of underground structures in the Cumae area. We’re hoping to find documentation of tunnels or chambers that might connect to our temple site.”

Sahara nodded, then shifted to the other pressing matter. “Any signs of the Custodians here in Italy?”

“We’ve seen nothing, but we’ve been careful. Naples is busy enough to provide good cover.” Elias glanced at her. “Your encounter with this Marcus Varro is concerning. Do you think his offer of a meeting is genuine?”

“I think he believes it is,” Sahara replied thoughtfully. “But he also made it clear that there are factions within their organization with different approaches. Some might prefer more direct methods of stopping our research.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, each processing the implications. Finally, Elias spoke again, his tone more personal.

“It’s good to have you here, Sahara,” Elias said, his smile genuine. “This investigation has become more complex than any of us anticipated.”

She returned the smile, her eyes flickering with a playful edge. “You and Layla seem to be working well together. I was half expecting to find you in the midst of an academic dispute when I arrived—or fucking each other’s brains out.”

Elias laughed, a low, warm sound that carried a hint of shared intimacy. “Let’s just say we’ve found a way to balance both,” he replied, his tone teasing but affectionate. “Her linguistic insights have been invaluable, and she has a way of seeing connections that others might miss.”

Sahara tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “Good,” she said finally, her tone light but with an underlying edge of heat. “I’d hate to think you two were neglecting the other benefits of working so closely together.”

Elias’s grin widened, and he reached out to gently squeeze her arm. “Trust me, Sahara, we’ve been making the most of every moment. And now that you’re here, we’ll make even more of them.”

They arrived at the hotel, where Layla was waiting for them in the small lobby café, surrounded by photocopies and notes from her archive research. She rose as they approached, greeting Sahara with a warm smile.

“Successful escape from Athens?” she asked, her eyes quickly assessing Sahara for any signs of stress or fatigue.

“More or less,” Sahara replied, taking a seat at the table. “The artifacts are secure in the university system, which limits what the Ministry can do without academic oversight. And I’ve arranged official access to the temple site for tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” Layla said, genuine appreciation in her voice. “I’ve found some interesting historical records that might help us.” She spread out several maps and architectural drawings. “According to these documents from the 1932 excavation, there’s an extensive network of tunnels beneath the Cumae acropolis, some dating to the Greek period, others Roman.”

Sahara studied the maps with interest. “And some of these tunnels run near our temple site?”

“Exactly. This passage here”—Layla pointed to a line on the map—”was partially excavated but never fully explored due to structural concerns. It passes directly beneath the temple area where we found the circular pattern.”

“Suggesting a potential connection to whatever chamber might exist beneath the temple floor,” Elias concluded.

“The entrance to this tunnel is in a less monitored area of the archaeological park,” Layla continued. “With our official survey permission, we could legitimately investigate it.”

Sahara nodded, impressed by their progress. “This is great work, both of you. We have a solid plan for tomorrow.” She lowered her voice, though they had chosen a table far from other patrons. “I’ve been thinking about Marcus Varro’s offer,” Sahara said. “A meeting with the Custodians could provide valuable context for our research—assuming it’s not a trap.”

“It’s a significant risk,” Layla cautioned. “But also a unique opportunity to understand how these ancient practices might have changed over time.”

“I propose we proceed with our investigation at Cumae tomorrow,” Sahara decided. “Depending on what we find, we can then consider whether to engage with the Custodians from a position of greater knowledge.”

They spent the next hour reviewing their plans for the temple site investigation, the mood shifting between focused determination and playful banter. When they finally separated to prepare for dinner, Sahara grabbed a towel and headed toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower,” she announced, pausing at the door to glance back at Elias. “Wait—so no one’s going to join me?” She left the door slightly ajar, a deliberate invitation.

Elias smirked, setting aside his notes. “Thought you’d never ask.” He followed her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him but leaving it cracked just enough so that Layla, sitting on the bed in the small hotel room, could see them from her vantage point.

The shower hissed to life, steam quickly filling the cramped space. Sahara stepped under the hot water, letting it cascade over her skin as Elias stripped off his clothes and joined her. His hands were on her immediately, sliding over her wet body, pulling her back against him. She gasped as he cupped her breasts, his fingers teasing her nipples before he turned her to face the shower door.

“Press against it,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. Sahara obeyed, her palms flat against the cheap plastic as Elias positioned himself behind her. Her golden sun disks scratched faintly against the door as he entered her in one deep, deliberate thrust.

She moaned, her forehead resting against the glass as he set a relentless pace, each thrust driving her harder against the shower door. The sound of their bodies meeting echoed in the small space, mingling with the rush of water and their shared breaths. Elias’s hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he fucked her with a rhythm that left her trembling.