Rome shimmered under a Roman spring sun as the team's jet touched down at Ciampino. Where Paris had been rain and shadow, Italy was gold and white marble, but the tension was the same.
Theo wore an impeccably cut navy suit, Roman collar subtly visible beneath. It wasn't for disguise — he was chaplain-certified, and the Vatican liked proper respect. Lara, beside him, looked effortlessly academic in cream linen and a scarf that hid a compact pistol holster.
Sophie met them at the base of the stair with a grin. "All clear. Our cover: Blackwood Foundation sponsoring a digitisation grant. You're Professor Blackwood, specialist in medieval theology. Lara's Dr. Croft, field archaeologist. Marcus is… logistics."
"Logistics," Marcus said dryly as he hefted the weapons case.
Their car swept past the Colosseum and into the heart of Vatican City. Swiss Guards glanced at papers, waved them through with stiff courtesy. Lara whispered to Theo, "You've got friends everywhere."
"Preparation," he murmured, as always.
They were ushered into the Archivio Segreto Vaticano — cool, silent halls smelling of old parchment. Monsignor Lorenzo Vitale, tall and sharp-featured, greeted them with the polished warmth of a man who knows exactly how much power he wields.
"Duke Blackwood," he said in smooth Italian-accented English, shaking Theo's hand. "And Dr. Croft. Welcome. Your foundation's support means much to us."
"History matters," Theo said evenly.
Vitale's dark eyes flickered, curious but not unfriendly. "You seek records of the German Ahnenerbe?"
"Among other things," Theo replied.
Vitale led them through marble corridors to a reading chamber. Massive codices and brittle Nazi files waited on the table, pre-cleared for them — power of a Blackwood donation at work.
For hours they sifted. Lara handled maps with gloved care, eyes sharp. Sophie photographed and quietly uploaded to encrypted servers. Marcus watched the door like a hawk.
Theo worked like a machine — eidetic memory scanning pages once, storing everything. Latin, German, archaic Church Latin; none slowed him.
A moment of silence stretched before Theo said quietly, "Here. Sacrum Mens."
He slid a brittle dispatch across. It was a 1944 SS report to Himmler: Project Sacrum Mens — relocation of relics to Königsberg fortress under direct Ahnenerbe supervision; priority: Custos Mentis key required.
Lara's eyes flared. "So our cross… is the key."
Theo nodded. "And the Nazis had it, then lost it."
Vitale returned silently, hands folded. "You pursue dangerous ghosts, Signore Blackwood."
Theo met his gaze. "Better we guard them than those who would weaponise them."
Vitale studied him, then inclined his head. "Be careful in the catacombs below. Others walk there."
"Others?" Lara asked lightly.
"A new sect. They call themselves the Veil of Midnight."
Theo and Lara exchanged a glance — the name was not common knowledge.
"They have been seen in shadows," Vitale added. "The Church watches."
Theo thanked him gravely. They packed their scans, ready to leave — but Theo's soldier senses pricked again as they exited to the dim stairwells that led to the ancient catacombs.
Marcus murmured into comms: "Two men followed us from the archives. Not clergy. Military posture."
Theo's jaw set. "Veil."
Sophie whispered: "Also — our MI6 watchers just pinged Roman cell towers. They're nearby."
Lara gave a wolfish smile. "Everyone wants to crash the party."
Theo's reply was calm steel: "Then let's move carefully."
The staircase dropped them from polished Vatican marble into rough-cut stone.
Light bulbs strung on thin wire cast long shadows across walls etched with early Christian symbols — fish, crosses, cryptic Greek letters. The air turned cool and damp, smelling of age and candle smoke.
Marcus paused at the first junction, scanning with a handheld sensor. "Three exits: left to tourist paths, right to restricted crypts, straight down to maintenance."
"Tourist is deathtrap if they're tailing," Theo said quietly. "Right — old clerical routes."
Lara brushed dust from a Latin inscription. "Memoria fidei. Memory of faith. Right's correct."
They moved single file — Marcus point, Theo and Lara mid, Sophie last with tablet glowing low blue. Theo's memory caught every twist and side door; centuries-old theological diagrams came alive as a mental map.
Sophie whispered, "MI6 pings are holding above ground. Not following yet."
"They're letting the Veil make the first move," Theo murmured.
"Classic deniable op," Marcus added.
Lara glanced back, voice a wry whisper. "So we're bait."
"Not if we stay ahead," Theo said.
Deeper, the catacombs opened into a long ossuary hall: walls lined with bones mortared into patterns — crosses, doves, Latin prayers. Their footsteps echoed. It was beautiful and eerie.
Sophie frowned at her tablet. "Signal's rough. But… movement ahead. Three, maybe four warm bodies."
Marcus checked his carbine quietly. "Ambush."
Theo studied the patterns on the wall, then stepped to a side recess. He ran fingers across a carved Chi-Rho symbol, then pushed — a hidden latch clicked. A narrow side tunnel gaped darkly.
Lara blinked. "You just—"
"Guardians left maps," Theo whispered. "Father taught me."
He ushered them in. Marcus went first, weapon ready; Sophie ducked behind him.
The hidden path angled sharply and rejoined the main hall fifty metres further — giving them flank advantage. Theo signalled silent take-down.
They emerged behind four hooded Veil operatives crouched in the main hall, rifles trained on the corner where the team should have appeared. Ancient sigils marked their cloaks.
Theo moved like a shadow, blade in one hand. The first man fell before a whisper of pain escaped. Marcus and Lara struck in the same instant — precise, suppressed shots. Sophie stayed back, covering with a pistol she barely liked but could use.
Within seconds it was done. Four bodies slumped silently among the bones.
Lara exhaled. "Elegant."
Theo picked up one of their comm units — custom encrypted. "Proof the Veil's deep in Vatican tunnels."
Sophie's eyes were wide but focused. "MI6 feeds just spiked. They know a firefight happened but aren't intervening."
"They're watching," Marcus muttered.
"They're measuring me," Theo said flatly.
Lara's grin was knife-sharp. "Let's give them something to measure."
At the far end of the ossuary, an ancient iron door waited. Over it was carved: Mens Sacra.
Theo brushed dust from the words; his father's voice whispered in memory. Sacred Mind.
"This is it," he said softly.
But faint echoes of more boots sounded behind — reinforcements coming.
Marcus: "Time's short."
Theo touched the door's puzzle locks — similar to the Marrakesh vault but older, holier. "Help me."
Lara slid beside him, hands deft and fearless.
The iron door was a mosaic of rotating rings, each etched with fading Greek, Latin, and proto-Coptic characters. Moist air breathed from cracks around its frame — the smell of earth and incense long sealed.
Theo's fingers moved without hesitation, memory stitching together everything his father taught and what he'd seen in Marrakesh. "Outer ring—Chi, Rho, Alpha… second ring—mirror the tri-cross… third—Coptic delta."
Lara steadied the lower rings, eyes darting between symbols. "Pressure plates under here. One wrong move and we'll have falling stone or worse."
"Then don't move wrong," Theo said quietly.
She smirked despite the tension. "Love your pep talks."
Marcus crouched back with rifle on the approach, listening to the echo of boots closing in. "We're about to have company."
"Hold them," Theo murmured.
Sophie, pale light from her tablet flickering across her face, whispered: "Multiple heat signatures converging from both tunnels. They're maybe sixty seconds out."
"Almost—" Theo twisted one last ring. A heavy click rolled through the stone. The sigils flared faintly in the lamplight and the door sighed inward.
Beyond lay a small chamber lined with saints' frescoes, the air impossibly dry. At its centre rested a carved stone plinth holding an ivory-bound codex and a sealed reliquary box gilded with the same pattern as the Custos Mentis cross.
Theo stepped through first, awe and relief mixing for a breath. "The Liber Mens Sacra… Father looked for this."
Lara followed, whispering, "Beautiful."
Marcus didn't turn. "Less beautiful: boots. Thirty seconds."
Theo snatched the codex and slid it into his pack. The reliquary resisted until Lara found a hidden clasp; it opened to reveal a second key-relic — smaller, silver inlay shaped to fit the Custos Mentis cross. She passed it to Theo wordlessly.
"Move!" Marcus barked.
Gunfire cracked down the tunnel — Veil reinforcements arriving. Muzzle flashes flared, bullets sparked off stone. Marcus returned controlled bursts; Lara swung to cover, firing tight three-rounds. Theo slammed the door partially shut to buy seconds, ancient hinges groaning.
Sophie hissed, "MI6 chatter spiking. They're watching the whole firefight on Vatican cams."
"Of course they are," Theo muttered, sliding into cover beside Marcus. He fired twice, dropping a hooded figure mid-charge.
Lara laughed once, wild and sharp through adrenaline. "Feels like Marrakesh again."
"Except older bones," Marcus said.
Theo tossed a smoke grenade down the corridor; grey clouds swallowed the Veil advance. "Back passage!" He pointed to a narrow pilgrims' tunnel branching from the relic room — his father had marked it on old notes.
"Lead," Lara said.
They fell back through the cramped side passage, smoke and gunfire muffling behind. Sophie pulled a micro-charge from her bag, slapped it on the relic door and clicked a detonator; a low thump collapsed part of the entrance just as the Veil reached it.
"That'll slow them," Sophie panted.
Theo guided them by faint fresco markers, every symbol etched in his memory. The passage sloped deeper, then up toward faint candlelight.
The passage twisted upward until a faint orange glow spilled across the stone. They emerged into a hidden chapel—a forgotten prayer room carved out centuries earlier, candles still burning on a crude altar. The air smelled of wax and dust.
Marcus checked the rear with his rifle. "Smoke's buying us time but they'll dig through."
Sophie tapped her tablet, breathless. "No external cams here. We're off Vatican grid."
Theo scanned the worn frescoes, then the cracked marble floor. "There's an old service stair behind the altar. It leads to a maintenance gate on the Tiber."
"Handy," Lara said, still keyed up but smiling.
They slipped behind the altar and down a narrow stair. The stone gave way to concrete—modern but neglected. At the bottom a rusted metal door opened onto the riverbank, where a single van idled in drizzle.
Marcus raised his rifle in reflex until the driver stepped into light: a clean-cut man in a dark raincoat, earpiece in one ear. Behind him, another man leaned casually on the van, umbrella shielding both from rain.
MI6.
The man under the umbrella smiled faintly when he saw Theo. "Duke Blackwood."
Theo kept his pistol low but ready. "You've been busy."
"So have you," the agent said. He was in his forties, sharp features, quiet authority. "London would appreciate a word."
"London can keep watching," Theo replied evenly. "We're working to keep relics out of madmen's hands."
The agent's smile didn't change. "And leaving a trail of bodies on sovereign soil."
"Would you prefer I left the relics to the Veil?" Theo asked.
A small shrug. "We're not enemies, Your Grace. Yet."
Lara shifted closer, hand near her holster. "You planning to stop us?"
The agent met her gaze with mild amusement. "Not tonight. We're curious, not suicidal. But know this: if you bring a war to Europe, we'll step in."
Theo's expression never wavered. "Stay out of the way, and we'll end the war before it reaches you."
A small pause. Then the agent nodded once, a tiny, almost respectful gesture. "Safe travels." He stepped back, and the MI6 pair let them pass.
Marcus muttered as they loaded into their own van: "Spooks playing nice. For now."
"They're measuring us," Theo said quietly. "We passed—for now."
Inside the van, Sophie was already on her laptop, soaked but smiling. "Before we lost connection, I grabbed a full scan of the Liber Mens Sacra. It's a map."
"A map?" Lara asked.
"To the Black Eagle Train's last stop," Sophie said. "It shows an evacuation from Königsberg to hidden Prussian tunnels near the Baltic coast. Nazi engineers buried something huge there."
Theo pulled the small silver key from his pocket, turning it in lamplight. "And this unlocks it."
Marcus looked back from the driver's seat. "So east we go."
Lara leaned against the seat, catching her breath but still buzzing with the hunt. "Amber Room, Nazi ghost trains, ancient cults… this trip keeps getting better."
Theo met her eyes briefly, a flicker of shared fire. "It's only beginning."
The van slid through Rome's sleeping streets, heading for a private runway before dawn. Behind them the Vatican's ancient stones swallowed the echoes of the fight. Somewhere deep below, Veil operatives dug through rubble and smoke, finding only empty sanctum.
And above, MI6 watched quietly, already filing reports:
BLACKWOOD ACTIVE. OBJECTIVES UNKNOWN. EXTREME CAPABILITY.