Church of Our Lady before Týn – Prague – 6:12 p.m.
The spires of the Gothic church pierced the storm-heavy sky like obsidian blades.
Robert Langdon and Katherine Solomon hurried across the wet cobblestones, the crowds thinning as thunder rumbled above the Old Town.
Langdon pushed open the massive oak doors. Inside, the sanctuary was dim, the scent of incense lingering like memory. High above, stained-glass saints stared down through violet light, and the golden altar shimmered like a beacon from another world.
Katherine glanced around, then pointed toward the northern nave. "Tycho Brahe was buried here… but the grave was moved during the 1901 renovations. His bones were disturbed." Langdon nodded. "He wasn't just an astronomer. He was an alchemist, obsessed with celestial harmony—and a rumoured Rosicrucian." They reached the side chapel where a bronze plaque marked Brahe's tomb. The Latin inscription read:
Non frustra vixi.
I did not live in vain.
Langdon knelt beside it, tracing the edges of the stone. "Franklin's treatise said the second cube was hidden 'beneath the bones of the astrologer.' But Brahe's remains were relocated." Katherine pulled out a folded page from the alchemical manuscript: a sketch of a burial chamber with a star chart carved into its roof. "This isn't just a grave… it's a celestial map." Langdon stood. "Then the tomb isn't the destination. It's a compass." They began scanning the floor tiles for clues—zodiac symbols, planetary glyphs, any sign of arcane alignment. Then Langdon spotted it: a worn tile bearing the Hermetic seal of Mercury, partially hidden beneath the corner of a pew.
Mercury—the alchemical messenger. The bridge between worlds.
Langdon pressed down.
A faint click.
The tile shifted, revealing a narrow keyhole beneath. Katherine immediately pulled the decoder ring from her bag and inserted it. It fit perfectly.
The stone groaned.
Behind the tomb, part of the floor slowly slid open, revealing a spiraling staircase that descended into the cold earth below the church. The scent of ancient parchment and iron drifted upward.
Langdon looked at Katherine. "Shall we?" They descended into darkness.
The chamber below was cylindrical, lined with concentric rings of stone etched with star patterns and Latin inscriptions. At its centre stood a pedestal—an obsidian cube, identical to the one in Stanford… except this one was inert, dark as a moonless night.
But etched into the floor around it was a symbol neither of them had seen before.
Katherine knelt and gasped.
"A noetic lattice," she whispered. "Mapped like a neural interface… but this one's incomplete." Langdon's mind raced.
This wasn't just a second cube.
It was a receiver.
Katherine stood slowly. "The cube at Stanford broadcasts. This one… it's meant to listen." Langdon's voice was low. "What are they trying to hear?" From the darkness, a voice answered.
"They're waiting for the voice of collective consciousness." Langdon and Katherine spun around.
A figure stepped into the chamber—tall, pale, cloaked in gray robes.
And upon his chest glinted a pendant.
The Janus Seal.