All eyes once again focused on Elizabeth, on that Ancient Bell.
A fervent anticipation filled the square.
The New Pope had been born. Now, only the final, most glorious step remained—the miraculous tolling of the bell!
Just at this critical moment, as the crowd held its breath waiting for the bell, Bellardi felt a sudden, violent throb from the black stone in his palm—a jolt so strong it felt like it would tear itself free!
It grew scorching hot as an invisible force pulled his hand, pointing it toward a relatively sparse corner of the crowd below the altar, a spot shrouded in the shadow of a massive stone pedestal.
The spot was still a hundred meters from the altar, but it was where the Guards were thinnest and the ritual's light just barely reached.
'That's the place... The shadow... The shadow of the light...'
The thought roared in his mind.
