[Suzerain of Sheol]

The lands around Thyati'ra are well-patrolled -- the group runs into no resistance as they make their way south and seaward. The journey lasts just under four-hours, the IFV following the old highways of Anatolia that Zaccheus has waged dearly to restore and maintain.

They arrive outside the monastery of Smyrna, its couryard lined with a long succession of marble columns, most of them broken, their crowns buried in sand and decaying to dust. The arched entranceway goes on for fifty feet and more, utterly dark in its confines and looking like nothing so much as the cave of some terrible slumbering beast.

The soldiers exit first, towering in their powered armor, hoisting auto-cannons and drum-loaded repeating grenade launchers. Each carries a 20-inch combat knife, an assortment of grenades, and several high-caliber pistols as back-up.

Thomas busies himself in the rear, readying his own armaments -- a hypersonic rifle which he slings over his shoulder, the submachinegun he displayed before, which is slung in a holster over his chest, and a sawn-off automatic shotgun loaded with psycho-active slugs. The Ordinance Transceiver remains secured within vestment.

He orders two of the soldiers to remain behind and man the IFV's turrets, looking out for any sign of attack and to provide them cover either entering or exiting, should they need it.

Nothing can be detected either psychically or spiritually from within the monastery, by any members of the group, nor by the various sensors Zaccheus' troops have brought.

Silence greets them, and something -- he is sure of it -- something awaits them within.