Inteachán slowly climbs down the rope. Into the darkness. The bowels of the earth. Where all the secrets are.

Inteachán is not afraid. She breathes slowly as she descends. Her feet gently touch the ground. She stands still and listens. The darkness engulfs her like a damp blanket.

Listen. There is water dripping somewhere. A steady stream. Inteachán switches her torch on. The thin beam of light fills with swimming dust.

A small chamber. Filled with broken pottery. A wide spider has strung a web between two small pillars. There is an altar between them. On the altar is the box. This is what Inteachán came for.