New mission
The artifacts whispered of a past unknown, stirring something deep within him.
a message arrived. Their task had been completed in time. But there was no chance to rest. A new mission lay ahead—one that would demand sharp minds and keen eyes. They had twelve hours to uncover the truth, using only the scattered clues left behind.
The atmosphere lightened as William spoke, his voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and clarity. "Let's uncover the truth from these clues," he said, his tone firm yet weary. "I'm done with all the bullying. It's time we face what's real." His words seemed to lift the tension in the room, and for a brief moment, everyone stopped in their tracks, listening intently.
Matt, his hands trembling slightly, picked up an old, leather-bound diary. It looked as though it had survived centuries, its pages yellowed and brittle with age. He opened the first page and began to read aloud.
"In the year of our Lord, 1553, I, Mary, write this account of my life. This diary was given to me by my mother on my sixth birthday, just before her death. I am the daughter of King Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon. My mother's passing left a mark upon my soul, and my childhood was filled with torment. My father, once a proud Catholic, became a man driven by ambition, tearing apart our faith and creating the Church of England so he could divorce my mother and marry Anne Boleyn in hopes of securing a male heir."
He paused, flipping the fragile pages, his voice steady as he continued.
"But it was I, Mary, who ascended to the throne in 1553, despite the betrayal that shaped my youth. My reign was filled with fear and bloodshed. The law of Heretico Comburendo, which I enforced in 1555, allowed me to burn Protestants—whom I deemed heretics—at the stake. For three long years, I did just that. Hundreds perished in the flames."
Matt's voice faltered as he turned the page, reading with growing disbelief.
"Mary Worth. Allegedly a witch, she was burned at the stake between the 17th and 19th centuries. Her name became synonymous with fear and superstition." He continued, a shiver running through him.
"Then there was Elizabeth Bathory, the Hungarian noblewoman from the 16th century, who supposedly tortured and killed hundreds of young women and girls. Some even believed her to be worse than England's own Queen Mary."
Matt's voice quivered as he read on. "Among her victims were prominent figures like Archbishop Thomas Cranmer, but the true horror was in the ordinary people who also fell prey to her. There were whispers of dark powers and blood-stained hands."
But then, the next page was missing. Torn out. A piece of history lost forever.
The room fell silent, as each person processed the weight of the words. What had started as a quest for truth now felt like a journey into the past, one filled with pain, fear, and betrayal. They all knew that uncovering the full story was only the beginning.