The Antiquarians Part 2: The Abyss Below

A Christian Fantasy Novella

The Antiquarians: The Song of the Covenant, Part 2: The Abyss Below plunges into the heart of what was lost—and what might still be found.

Or start back at teh beginning with part one:

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Selah groaned, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim light at the bottom of the pit. She could barely believe it—after years of avoiding capture, it had taken being caught to find the tunnels she’d sought for so long. How ironic, she thought, that the Ancient One would lead her here like this.

The air here felt different—thicker, as if it carried the weight of history, of generations who had sought shelter in these caves. It was said that these tunnels had been built as hiding places during the early days of persecution, back when the covenant still thrived and the land was green.

Something shifted below her, and she realized she was lying on top of the Neoterian soldier. With a grunt of effort, she rolled off him, her mind still reeling from the fall. How could she have been so careless? After all her years of staying hidden, she had risked everything to find the Memory Water and return to the original Antiquarian village—only to end up captured.

She stood, still aching from the fall, and stared at the unconscious soldier.

The visor on his helmet had shattered, revealing a strangely familiar face that stirred something deep within her, a feeling she couldn’t quite place.

Selah’s hands trembled as she wiped the sweat from her brow, forcing herself to think. She had spent years hiding from the Neoterians at the new village, and when desperation brought her to a place where she had to take a risk, she was immediately discovered. She was supposed to be better than this, smarter. And yet, here she was, trapped in the very tunnels she had searched for, lying next to the very enemy she had sworn to fight.

Failure gnawed at her—she had risked everything for this, and now she was trapped, no closer to finding the Memory Water

She crouched beside the soldier, her legs trembling, a dull ache spreading through her bruised ribs. Her instincts screamed at her to flee, but a strange, painful pull rooted her in place, as if invisible hands were holding her down. The sharp angle of his jaw, the steely set of his mouth...Why did this face feel so... known?

Selah tore her gaze away, trying to focus. The pit they had fallen into was deep and narrow, the walls lined with jagged stalactites that loomed like teeth ready to snap shut. The tunnel stretched endlessly into darkness on either side, shadows obscuring whatever lay beyond.

The soldier let out a low groan, and Selah’s heart jolted. She watched him closely, her muscles tensing, but his eyes stayed shut. For now, he was still unconscious.

Her gaze flicked to the metal glinting among the rubble—the soldier's sword. Despite the soreness in her limbs, she forced herself to pick it up. The weight of it felt strange in her hands, but she gripped it tightly, memories of her mother and the others she had lost burning in her mind. This man was a Neoterian, part of the same force that had taken everything from her.

“He deserves to die,” she whispered, her voice echoing softly through the cavern.

But doubt crept in, gnawing at her resolve. Could she really kill an unconscious man? Was she ready to become what she hated? The thought of spilling blood made her stomach churn, and tears welled up in her eyes as she grappled with the decision. If she let him live, he would come after her again. But if she killed him, she would be no different from those who had brought suffering to her people.

She glanced at his exposed skin, noticing a series of jagged, circular scars near the base of his neck where wires dug into his skull. She’d never seen a Neoterian soldier so up close. Though her enemy, she felt a strange sense of pity for whatever horrible experiments had been done on this man by the Enlightened One. And yet he had chosen his path… right?

The sword felt heavy in her grip, as if it resisted her intentions. She leaned closer, her breath shallow, the memory of her mother’s death burning behind her eyes. But when she raised the blade, her hands shook, the weight of the decision pressing down on her.

Her eyes drifted to the exposed skin on his arm, uncovered by the broken armor. Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his skin.

A sudden vision exploded in her head, so intense it nearly knocked her back. She saw flashes—an inferno consuming a house, swords clashing in a stark white room, the evil eyes of a man cloaked in black, a woman’s scream echoing through the darkness. The images flickered like a storm, vivid but disjointed, leaving her breathless.

She yanked her hand back, gasping. The visions stopped, and the cave was silent once more. Selah stared down at the soldier, bewildered.

Never since learning how to use her gift had she seen a mind so fractured.

All People of the Covenant had a gift. In the old days, they would receive training to use those special gifts to assist people and spread the testimonies of the Ancient One. But once the Neoterians rose to power and labeled them Antiquarians, they’d been driven into hiding.

Selah’s gift was being able to sense memories of the people she touched. She usually saw a scene from that person’s life. But this man’s memories were a jumbled mess. Something had happened to his mind.

The soldier stirred and let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering open. Selah’s breath caught as her gaze locked with his—a mix of green and gray, piercing and familiar. She had seen those eyes before, but something more than recognition stirred within her. Her pulse quickened, though she told herself it was just the shock.

“Tof?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her mind rebelled against the thought. Tof had been killed in the same raid that took her mother. It couldn’t be him. This was just another cruel twist of irony, a trick of fate to taunt her.

The soldier pushed himself up, wincing. “You. Where are we?”

Despite herself, Selah chuckled. “We’re in a hole. Where do you think we are?”

He grunted, getting to his feet and glancing upward at the jagged opening they had fallen through. The sides of the pit were smooth and impossible to climb. They were trapped.

She noticed sparks flickering from the wires on the back of his neck, his suit clearly damaged. Selah’s heart raced. She had one chance to escape, but it meant venturing into the dark, unknown tunnel. She steeled herself and took a step forward.

Before she could make a second, a metal hand clamped onto her shoulder, pulling her back. The grip was cold, unyielding. “There’s no escaping me, Antiquarian,” the soldier growled. “We might be stuck, but I will not fail my mission.”

Selah squirmed against his grip. “Your mission to murder my people?”

“They are a scourge,” he said, his voice a harsh rasp. “Your kind brought drought upon the land. I’m only protecting everyone else.”

She tried to wrench herself free. “We didn’t cause the drought, and we did nothing to you.”

“My mission is to bring you to the Enlightened One,” he said, tightening his hold. “So tell me, which way leads back to the surface?”

Selah stopped struggling, her eyes narrowing. “What, you think just because I’m an Antiquarian I know every tunnel down here?” She wasn’t about to admit this was the hidden passage she’d been searching for.

The soldier grunted and glanced down the dark path. Without a word, he grabbed his sword and started pulling her along. A beam of light flickered from his helmet, illuminating the narrow passage ahead. Selah hesitated but ultimately let herself be led. She needed the light, and until she could figure out how to escape, she would have to stay close.

The tunnel swallowed them, the darkness pressing in from all sides, with only the light from his suit providing guidance. Each step echoed off the walls, a hollow sound that seemed to linger too long in the air, as if the shadows themselves were listening. The soldier’s boots clanked, heavy and deliberate, while Selah’s steps were light, almost ghostly, barely breaking the oppressive silence.

“So, how far do you think this goes?” she asked, breaking the silence.

The soldier ignored her.

“What’s your name?”

Another grunt.

“Well, I’ve got to call you something.” She glanced at him and cocked her head. “How about Grunt? Since that seems to be the only thing you know how to do.”

“Grunt” grunted, and Selah giggled despite the tension.

He shot her a sidelong glance. “You talk too much.”

Despite his glare, there was a hint of a smile on his face, emboldening her further.

“Well, then you talk, Grunt. How long have you been a soldier for the Neoterians?”

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he said, “I don’t remember.”

She tilted her head. “You’re in your twenties, right? Surely you haven’t been a soldier that long.”

“I have no memory of anything before this mission.”

Selah’s heart tightened, caught between pity and anger. She had wanted to hate him, but seeing the confusion cloud his eyes, she felt a pang of something else—something that made her chest ache. 'That’s... sad,' she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them, softer than she intended.

“The past is a shackle. We’ve learned to cut it away, to focus on the future that gives us purpose and nothing more.”

“And what’s that purpose?”

“To protect the world.”

“From people like me?” Selah challenged, her tone light but her eyes probing. “How dangerous can I be, really?”

“It’s not about you,” he said, hesitating just a fraction. “It’s what you stand for.”

Perhaps she was imagining it, but she thought she heard a flicker—a hesitation, a shadow of doubt in his voice that was quickly buried under his cold, distant tone.

“We must move forward—progress, always. The Neoterians have given us the tools to survive, to reshape the world into something new. But you... You’re stuck in the past. You think the answers lie in these old ways, in your covenant. But look around. What have your traditions done? Where are the rains? The crops? The forests?”

He shook his head. “The world has moved on. It’s time you did too.”

Selah’s heart ached at his words, but she stood firm. “The covenant isn’t about looking backward—it’s about remembering who we are. Progress without roots is hollow. We don’t just cling to the past—we carry it with us. That’s what gives us hope.”

They continued down the winding path until it split. One branch was narrow, jagged, and treacherous, while the other was smoother, wider. Grunt hesitated, then led them down the main path.

“What makes you think progress is always better?” Selah asked, struggling to keep her tone casual.

“New is superior,” he replied, his voice firm. “The past was barbaric. Foolish. Those who cling to it are bound by chains they don’t even realize exist. Look at the world—drought, famine, death. All because people refuse to let go of their outdated beliefs.”

Selah’s eyes narrowed. “Outdated? The past is our foundation. It’s what shapes us, gives us meaning. The covenant isn’t some relic of a forgotten age—it’s life. We are here because we remember where we came from.”

Grunt scoffed. “And look where it’s gotten you. A dying village in a dying world.”

“Arrogant,” she corrected. “Don’t you think it’s arrogant to think you’ve outgrown everything?”

Grunt didn’t answer, and for a moment, the tunnel was silent except for the hum of their breathing.

Then, without warning, Grunt seized up, letting out a guttural cry of pain. Sparks erupted from the wires on his neck, and he dropped to his knees, clutching his head.

Selah hesitated. She could run. She was free. But the tunnel was dark, and she needed the light. “What’s happening?” she asked, torn between fear and concern.

“Make it stop,” he gasped, his body trembling.

Selah’s heart pounded as she placed a tentative hand on his arm. The moment her skin touched his, she was bombarded by another wave of fragmented memories, faster and more chaotic than before. She pulled away, shaking.

Then she heard it—the chittering sound of claws against stone.

A dark shape skittered out of the shadows, its eyes gleaming like coals, claws scraping against stone with a sound that set Selah’s teeth on edge.

Vyrlings.

“Get up,” she urged, trying to not sound too panicked as she pulled Grunt to his feet. “We have to run.”

Grunt stumbled forward, still dazed but moving. The tunnel echoed with the screech of the approaching creatures, and Selah’s terror intensified as the swarm closed in.

“Come on!” she shouted, racing toward the glint of blue light in the distance.

Selah’s heart pounded as she sprinted, her eyes fixed on the faint blue glow ahead. It was their only hope, a flicker of light in the oppressive darkness. Grunt struggled to keep up, his exoskeleton slowing him down, but he pressed on, his face contorted with pain and determination.

The screeching of the bat-like creatures grew louder, their claws scraping against the stone as they swarmed closer, their eyes gleaming hungrily. Selah could feel the rush of air as their wings beat furiously, and she begged the Ancient One for strength, for a way out of this nightmare.

Then, finally, she reached the source of the blue light—a door, its surface cool and smooth to the touch. She grabbed the handle and pulled, her hands slick with sweat. The door creaked open, revealing a small chamber bathed in a soft, otherworldly glow. She turned to see Grunt still struggling, the creatures nipping at his heels.

“Come on!” she yelled, her voice cracking.

Grunt’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, she saw the fear beneath his stoic mask. He pushed himself harder, raising his sword and slashing at the Vyrlings that dared get too close. Blood dripped down his arm from a jagged tear in his suit, but he didn’t stop.

With a final burst of strength, he stumbled through the doorway, and Selah slammed the door shut behind him. The pounding of the Vyrlings against the wood was deafening, but the door held. For now, they were safe.

Grunt threw his weight against the door to ensure it stayed shut, his breath ragged.

Selah’s eyes darted to his shoulder, where two angry red welts glowed. “You’re hurt,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He met her gaze, his mismatched eyes dull with pain. “I’ve been bitten.”

Selah’s heart clenched. The poison of the Vyrlings was slow, but deadly. She had seen it kill before, and it was never quick, never merciful.

“We’ll find a way to save you,” she said, her voice steady, though her heart trembled. “The poison is slow-acting. We have time.”

The pounding outside the door began to fade as the Vyrlings lost interest, their screeches echoing down the tunnel as they slunk back into the shadows. Selah let out a sigh of relief, but when she turned back to Grunt, he was staring at her, his expression unreadable.

“Why didn’t you leave me behind?” he asked. “You had your chance.”

Selah didn’t answer right away. She didn’t know the answer herself. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “But I couldn’t.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of their labored breathing. Then Selah’s eyes widened as she took in their surroundings.

The chamber was vast, its curved walls adorned with tapestries depicting scenes from the ancient past. Some were familiar to her—stories she had heard as a child, tales of the Ancient One’s deeds—but others were strange, their meanings lost to time. A small stream ran through the center of the room, its waters glowing a brilliant blue. The light from the stream cast rippling reflections across the walls, creating an ethereal, dreamlike atmosphere.

“What is this place?” Grunt asked, his voice hoarse.

Tears welled in Selah’s eyes as she looked around. After all this time, had she really found it? “The ceremony room,” she whispered.

Grunt's gaze was drawn to one of the tapestries, his eyes wide with something like recognition. Selah took the opportunity to slip away, her legs shaking with anticipation. She had to know if the Memory Water was real, if it could bring back the hope her people had lost.

She stumbled to the stream, her hands trembling as she reached down to the cool, clear water. According to tradition, one had to have clean hands to touch the sacred waters, but her hands were caked with dirt and sweat. She tried to wipe them clean on her tunic, but it was no use. With a whispered prayer for forgiveness, she dipped her hands into the stream.

She cupped her hands she brought a handful of the liquid to her lips, drinking deeply.

The cool water pooled on her tongue, spreading a chill through her veins.

As if a light had been switched on, visions from the memory water surged through her—colors, sounds, sensations, each one clearer than the last. She was standing in a field bathed in sunlight, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the air. Laughter echoed around her, familiar yet distant, as if carried by the wind. The voice of the Ancient One murmured through the memories, steady and warm, like a long-forgotten lullaby.

Scenes of the past played out before her eyes—stories of the Ancient One providing for His people, of miracles and covenants, of joy and sorrow.

Tears streamed down her face as she was enveloped by the testimonies of her ancestors, stories that had been passed down through fragmented memories and whispers. Now, she saw the grand narrative, the intricate design that the Ancient One had woven throughout time. She understood, finally, that His silence had not been abandonment, but patience, waiting for the right moment to reveal His plan.

A laugh bubbled up from her chest, light and joyous. She had come searching for hope, and she had found it, more beautiful and profound than she could have imagined.

She turned back to Grunt, her heart swelling with compassion. Whatever anger or hatred she had felt for him was gone. He was lost, just like she had been, and he needed to see the truth.

“Grunt,” she said softly, stepping closer to him. “There’s so much you don’t understand. But I can show you.”

He didn’t respond. His eyes were still fixed on the tapestry, his face pale and drawn. Selah’s heart ached as she saw the fear there, the confusion.

“We can bring the truth to everyone,” she said, her voice steady. “Together.”

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Excited to see what happens next? Read part three!