Caleb gripped the phone tightly, his pulse quickening. “Alright, Jack. What did they find?”


    There was a pause on the other end, followed by the sound of shuffling papers. Jack’s voice dropped, quieter now. “The key isn’t just old, Caleb. It’s ancient.”


    Caleb frowned, moving to the window and pulling back the curtain. The city outside was drenched in the amber glow of streetlights, but he barely noticed. “How ancient are we talking about?”


    “Made of an alloy called Corinthium. Ever heard of it?”


    “No,” Caleb said, scribbling the word into his notebook.


    “Neither did I,” Jack replied. “Turns out it’s not just rare—it’s borderline mythical. Some bigwig from the university says it’s linked to artifacts dating back thousands of years. " It said it’s the kind of metal you’d only see in places of, uh, great importance." Whatever that means.


    Caleb’s mind raced. “How the hell does something like that end up in a dead man’s hand?”


    “That’s the million-dollar question,” Jack said. There’s more. The shape of the key… it doesn’t match any modern locks. They think it’s ceremonial. Maybe even symbolic.”


    “Symbolic of what?” Caleb pressed, but Jack sighed.


    “Hell if I know, man. I’m just telling you what they told me. But here’s the kicker: they ran a chemical analysis on the surface. They found traces of a substance they couldn’t identify—almost like dust, but it’s older than dirt itself. I’m talking prehistoric.”


    Caleb rubbed his temple, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “You’re saying the key’s not just old—it’s connected to something ancient.”


    “Exactly.”


    The line went quiet for a moment as both men processed the weight of it.


    “Listen,” Jack finally said, breaking the silence. “If you’re going to chase this thing, maybe check out the city archives. We’ve got a guy down there who loves this old historical crap. Could be worth a shot.”Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Caleb hung up without another word, already grabbing his coat.


    The city archives were buried beneath the towering municipal building, a maze of dimly lit hallways and rows of shelves stuffed with dusty records. Caleb didn’t come here often, but tonight he moved with purpose.


    At the far end of the main room, a small desk was bathed in the soft glow of a desk lamp. Behind it sat a wiry man with round glasses perched on his nose. His name tag read Ralph Enderly: Archivist.


    “Can I help you?” Ralph asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.


    Caleb pulled out the notebook and flipped to a page where he’d sketched the outline of the key. “I need to know if there’s anything in your records about this. Or anything connected to Corinthium.”


    Ralph adjusted his glasses, leaning forward to inspect the sketch. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, Caleb thought he might laugh him off. But then Ralph stood abruptly.


    “Wait here,” he said, disappearing into the stacks.


    Caleb waited, his patience wearing thin as the minutes stretched on. Just as he was about to call out, Ralph reappeared, clutching a small, leather-bound journal in one hand and a brittle sheet of parchment in the other.


    “This,” Ralph said, placing the journal on the desk, “is a copy of an explorer’s diary from the late 1700s. " Mentions a key that matches your description.” He pointed to the parchment. “And this is a map—well, part of one, anyway. It’s incomplete, but it’s the only thing we’ve got.”


    Caleb leaned closer, studying the faded ink. The map seemed to depict the city as it might have looked centuries ago, but the edges were torn, and much of it was unreadable. Near the center, however, was a mark—a tiny symbol that looked eerily familiar.


    “The key?” Caleb asked, pointing to the mark.


    Ralph nodded. “The explorer wrote about a door. It said that led to something called The Vault of the Mind. Whatever it was, he never found it. The map was the last entry in his journal.”


    “The Vault of the Mind?” Caleb repeated, the words rolling off his tongue like a riddle.


    “That’s what he called it,” Ralph said. A place hidden deep beneath the city. Supposedly, it held knowledge so dangerous it was sealed away to protect the world.”


    Caleb felt a chill run down his spine. The words painted a picture too vivid to ignore.


    “Where’s the rest of the map?” he asked.


    Ralph spread his hands helplessly. “If I knew that, I’d be rich, wouldn’t I? But if you’re looking for more, I’d suggest checking the cathedral.”


    Caleb raised an eyebrow. “The cathedral?”


    “St.  Magnus,” Ralph said. “It’s the oldest structure in the city. Lots of rumors about secret passages and hidden chambers. " If there’s anything left of the map—or whatever that key unlocks—it might be there.”


    Caleb stared at the map, his heart pounding. The pieces were starting to come together, but every answer brought more questions. He folded the parchment carefully, tucking it into his pocket.


    “Thanks,” he said, turning to leave.


    Ralph called after him. “Hey, if you find anything, let me know! I love this kind of stuff.”


    Caleb didn’t respond. His mind was already on the cathedral—and whatever secrets it might be hiding.