Chapter 1: Gravity
Rome, June 2025, present day
The ancient catacombs beneath the Vatican had been sealed off from view for centuries. A maze of forgotten passages, hidden from the rest of the world - unknown even to the Pope himself.
The air, thick with dampness and smelling of mold, pressed against Diletta’s skin like a cold, wet cloth. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she struggled to keep pace with the man leading her deeper into the shadows. His robes billowed behind him like dark wings as he descended in a hurry, while her limp tortured her, each step sending a jolt of pain through her old injury.
Down and down they went, for ages. And the further they advanced, the more uneasy Diletta grew. The stairs were steep and slippery and the passage was narrow, its stone walls closing in on either side. Flickering torch-like lamps cast dancing shadows on the rough surface, barely holding back the darkness that enveloped the entire area. Cobwebs clung to archways, silent witnesses to conspiracies and secrets.
These insane priests had done their best to preserve the medieval atmosphere in their secret underworld.
Diletta sighed. She had finally lost her damn mind. She shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this.
“Have patience. We are getting there.” She turned around to face the smirking bearer of the fortunate news, and that minor distraction proved enough to almost send her flying down the rest of the steps.
The man grabbed her by the jacket, keeping her in place. For a moment, she stood there frozen, finding it difficult to breathe. The near fall brought to mind another fall; a fall full of agonizing pain and despair, smelling of hospitals and tasting of saltless food. A reminder of betrayal and loneliness.
“Careful. You are God’s instrument. We can’t afford to lose you.”
Diletta frowned and shook her head, then squared her shoulders and found the courage to move on. Instrument of God, he said. A few months ago, she didn’t even believe in God.
Until the day the Almighty decided to make his presence universally known with a bang.
A big fucking bang.
After a few more treacherous steps, they landed before a set of massive doors. The priest took a key from his pocket; with a heavy click and a groan of centuries-old hinges, the doors swung open.
A cavernous hall stretched before them, its vastness swallowing the meager light. Diletta’s eyes widened at the sight. Shelves, reaching way up high, lined every wall, each laden with books—thousands upon thousands of them—their spines cracked with age.
Her gaze drifted upward, to the faded frescoes of the ceiling. Images of suffering disciples and magnificent angels hid in the dim light like ghosts caught between worlds, all the pain and the glory of religion hauntingly beautiful and deeply unsettling at the same time.
Under different circumstances, stumbling upon such a treasure trove of knowledge would have thrilled her. But the present situation didn’t leave room for much excitement.
Outside these ancient walls, beyond these labyrinthine catacombs, it was the end of the world.
The two crazy, wannabe Illuminati priests moved towards the heavy wooden desk that stood before a gigantic fireplace on the opposite wall. They started unlocking and searching its drawers with frantic movements, their breaths erratic, their frenzied eyes stealing glances at her again and again, as if they feared she might vanish; evaporate into thin air.
Like millions of people did after the War of the Apocalypse began.
Diletta fixed her gaze on the ground. What was she doing? She shouldn’t be here. She still had time to leave, to change her mind.
With a heavy sigh, she dragged her feet and collapsed on a chair a few steps away. After so many stairs, the pain became unbearable, but that wasn’t what was stopping her from running away.
Leaving was not an option. She couldn’t let him die.
The world be damned, she couldn’t.
“Hell or high water it is, then. Well, probably just hell.”
“What are you mumbling there, woman?” Lunatic priest number one, otherwise known as Francesco, bored into her with his hands still shoved inside the drawers. “You’re not having second thoughts now, are you?”
Before Diletta had any time to respond, lunatic priest number two, named Epifanio, jumped up as if a cat had scratched his ass, holding a thick envelope.
“Here it is, brother!”
Francesco almost ripped the envelope from the other priest’s grasp, ogling it with an adoration suited for the Holy Grail. He exchanged looks with his partner, and they both started laughing and dancing like a pair of deranged demons from Pandemonium.
Scratch that. Pandemonium didn’t exist. Demons did, but they were nothing like that.
They were terrifying.
“Woman?”
Diletta glared at Francesco. One more woman coming out of the clown’s mouth, and the precious envelope would travel down his throat, choking him in the process.
The right thing to do, as well as entertaining.
“Why do you look so sad? Your divine mission is about to begin.”
Diletta rose, trembling, with hands turned into fists. She hated them, despised people like them all her life. They were better off dead, and she would be better off elsewhere, fighting for the survival of humankind.
Diletta, kill them and get the hell out of here!
Nope, nothing. She couldn’t move. And it wasn’t her fucking limp’s fault, nor her stupid, damaged bones’ fault.
Was it God pinning her in place? Messing with her head?
Playing with her heart?
“Call me woman one more time, asshole, and you’ll taste my boot in your mouth! I have a name!”
The idiotic smiles died on their lips as worry settled in the wrinkles of their faces. Crouching to make himself appear smaller, Francesco took a few hesitant steps closer, the fake smile returning on his face.
“That is what’s bothering you, Diletta? Forgive me. I am an old man, my ways the ways of the past.”
The fueling force of rage blew off like helium from a balloon peppered poked, but not because of Francesco’s phony apology. She knew they needed her, the only reason they tolerated her. But she also knew that the priest’s belittling form of address wasn’t really what’s been bothering her.
She was about to commit the highest treason in the history of humanity, against all humanity. The guilt and self-loathing were eating her up. Not to mention, it was probably a suicide mission.
And yet, she couldn’t stop herself.
“Diletta,” Epifanio called, eyeing her with suspicion. He took once more the envelope in his hands and moved to stand closer. “This contains all the instructions you need to enter the facility.” He raised his hand, offering it to her.
Diletta looked into his eyes, infested with deep, relentless sorrow. And she knew that sorrow would remain a companion for eternity.
Epifanio dropped his hand back.
“Are you sure you are doing this for the right reasons? You will get inside the base to free the Divine Conqueror. Not to do something foolish.”
Diletta burst into manic laughter, reaching to the chair for support. “Oh, Epifanio, are you afraid that I’m going in there to kill him? Don’t you understand how ridiculous that sounds?”
“Not kill him, of course,” said Francesco, who had shed his sleazy demeanor and now eyed her as his partner in crime did. “But maybe tell the government of our plans.”
The laughter died in an instant. Diletta was exhausted, tired of everything and everyone, most of all herself and these two morons.
Raising her arm, she gestured for the instructions. “Hand it over. I said I’ll do it.” A wicked smile settled on her lips. “Besides, I am all you’ve got. No one else will.”
After exchanging looks with his partner, Epifanio reluctantly handed her the paper. It was true. None of these religious fanatics was crazy enough to take over this mission. Diletta glanced inside the envelope, then shoved it into a pocket and turned to leave.
“Bye-bye, folks,” she said while limping towards the exit. “It wasn’t nice to meet you. See you in hell. Oh, wait, we are already there!”
“Stop!” Epifanio approached in a hurry and handed her a pendant with an iron cross that seemed older than the day of the original crucifixion. Then he snatched his hand back as if the artifact had burned his skin. “Wear it. It will protect you because you are doing God’s work.”
Were these guys serious? Were they buried so deep in their catacombs that they had no idea what’s been going on?
“Seriously? A cross? You still believe in this shit after everything?”
Francesco’s eyes threw daggers, a vein pulsing in his forehead. “One of them gave it to us! The cross will keep you safe!” he screeched. “You still don’t believe after everything?”
Diletta sighed once more and, after examining the symbol of Christianity under the scrutiny of the priests’ gaze, she shoved it into the same pocket with the instructions. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”
With strenuous, painful footsteps, she reached the gate, but before exiting, Epifanio’s voice stopped her.
“There is a reason for this. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
With a bitter smile, she turned around to face him. “I figured this much. I can feel it in my bones.”
Both priests stared at her. “You can feel it?” Francesco asked with trepidation. “What are you feeling?”
Diletta left without answering. Her feet grew even heavier as she reached the stairs and started the dreaded ascend, her heart sinking with each step. Then and only then, a sad whisper escaped from her lips and echoed on the walls, unveiling her torment.
Revealing why she was ready to condemn herself.
Why she was ready to condemn the world.
Why.
The obsession. The need. The all-consuming wave.
“A pull. Inescapable like gravity.”
