Cilvēka siluets, kurš tumšā alā tur laternu, radot noslēpumainu atmosfēru.

Otrā epizode: Aizzīmogotā tuneļa noslēpums

Ūdens pilieni tagad krita uz mūsu lāpas. Uguns bija uz nodzišanas robežas.

Mēs stāvējām šaurā tunelī — tik šaurā, ka profesora plecs bija noskrāpējies pret akmeni, un Hansa mugura visu laiku atsitās pret griestiem. Mana elpošana kļuva neregulāra. Skābeklis šajā tunelī garšoja citādi — it kā gaiss piederētu citam laikam.

Tad kaut kas notika… kaut kas, kas mums pa mugurkaulu aizsūtīja ledu.

Tuneļa atvere aiz mums bija aizvērusies.

Nebija ne skaņas, ne trīcēšanas. Eja, caur kuru tikko bijām izgājuši, tagad bija pilna ar akmeņiem, it kā taka nekad nebūtu pastāvējusi.

"Kā... kā tas ir iespējams?" es nomurmināju.

Profesors pacēla lukturīti augstāk, un šajā mirgojošajā gaismā mēs kaut ko ieraudzījām — skrāpējumus uz tuneļa sienas. It kā kāds — vai kaut kas — būtu mēģinājis to izrakt ar naglām vai nagiem.

Hanss trīcošā balsī ierunājās: “Šīs pēdas… tās ir svaigas.”

Es piegāju tuvāk sienai un pieskāros tai — akmens bija mitrs, un skrambas tiešām bija svaigas. Kāds… vai kaut kas… bija mēģinājis caur šejieni aizbēgt.

Profesors dziļi ieelpoja. “Tie nav tikai dabiski veidojumi, Aksel. Šīs takas… viņi domā.”

"Viņi domā?" es šokēts jautāju.

"Jā... dažreiz tās atveras, dažreiz aizveras. Kāds spēks šeit lejā mūs vada — un tas vēlas, lai mēs kaut kur dotos."

Es paņēmu lukturīti un iekāpu dziļāk tunelī. Zem papēža čāpstēja ūdens, un gaiss bija biezs ar dīvainu smaku — kaut ko līdzīgu trūdēšanas smakai… vai varbūt kaut kam sen apraktam.

Tad mēs to dzirdējām — vāju, nepārtrauktu čaukstoņu… it kā kaut kas milzīgs rāpotu tālu zem mums.

(Atmiņas)
Pirms divām nedēļām mēs ieradāmies Reikjavīkā. Islandes galvaspilsētā — virspusēji mierīga, bet mēs zinājām, ka esam tur tikai viesi uz dažām dienām. Pēc tam mūsu ceļojums vedīs lejup — tālu, tālu lejā.

Mēs bijām sapakojuši tikai pašu nepieciešamāko: žāvētu pārtiku, ūdeni, lukturīšus un karti — to pašu karti, kas norādīja uz apdzisuša vulkāna ieteku, kas, kā teikts, ir mūsu ceļojuma atslēga.

Profesors bija apmierināts. Viņš ne tikai dzinās pakaļ Zemes noslēpumiem — viņš meklēja pierādījumus savām zināšanām.

Es? Man rūpēja tikai tas, lai atrastu ceļu atpakaļ.

Tunelī atkal atskanēja skaņa — tagad tuvāk.

Mēs trīs drūzmējāmies kopā. Luktura gaisma mirgoja. Aizturējuši elpu, mēs klausījāmies.

Un tad… mēs redzējām kustīgu ēnu.

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Episode Two: The Secret of the Sealed Tunnel
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Beneath the Depths of the Earth
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Abdul Jabbar
Drops of water were now falling onto our torch. The fire was on the verge of going out.
We were standing in a narrow tunnel — so narrow that the professor’s shoulder had scraped against the stone, and Hans’s back kept hitting the ceiling. My breathing became erratic. The oxygen in this tunnel tasted different — as if the air belonged to another time.
Then something happened… something that sent ice down our spines.
The mouth of the tunnel behind us had sealed shut.
There was no sound, no tremor. The passage we had just come through was now packed with stones, as if the path had never existed.
“How… how is this possible?” I muttered.
The professor raised the torch higher, and in that flickering light, we saw something — scratch marks on the wall of the tunnel. As if someone — or something — had tried to claw its way out using nails or talons.
Hans spoke in a trembling voice, “These marks… they’re fresh.”
I stepped closer to the wall and touched it — the rock was damp, and the scratches were indeed fresh. Someone… or something… had tried to escape through here.
The professor took a deep breath. “These are not just natural formations, Axel. These paths… they think.”
“They think?” I asked, shocked.
“Yes… sometimes they open, sometimes they close. Some force down here is guiding us — and it wants us to go somewhere.”
I took the torch and stepped deeper into the tunnel. Water squelched under my heel, and the air was thick with a strange smell — something like decay… or perhaps something long buried.
Then we heard it — a faint, constant rustling… like something massive was crawling, far beneath us.
(Flashback)
Two weeks ago, we had arrived in Reykjavík. The capital of Iceland — calm on the surface, but we knew we were only guests there for a few days. After that, our journey would lead downward — far, far below.
We had packed only the essentials: dried food, water, torches, and a map — the same map that pointed to the mouth of an extinct volcano, said to be the key to our journey.
The professor was content. He wasn’t just chasing the secrets of the Earth — he was seeking proof of his knowledge.
Me? I only cared about finding the way back.
A sound echoed in the tunnel again — closer now.
The three of us pressed together. The torch flickered. Holding our breath, we listened.
And then… we saw a shadow move.
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