Elena, Mila, and Henk venture into the historic canal district of Delfshaven in search of new clues about De Verborgenen. Their determination only deepens when they spot the mysterious stranger’s scarf on a quiet side street, hinting at looming danger around every corner.

A Rotterdam Story | Spoilers Podcast | S1E6

If you’re a fan of spoilers, listen to the latest podcast episode, in which our hosts discuss and analyse the events of this chapter.

Doubts in the morning

Early sunlight filtered through the curtains of Elena’s small apartment near the Meent, casting long shadows across her cluttered table. The events of the previous night played on loop in her mind—the chilling encounter in Het Park, the man’s warning, and the cryptic documents they’d uncovered at the city archives on Hofdijk. She shuffled through photographs of the canal engravings on her phone, her eyes landing on the faint ‘R’ symbol that seemed to guide their every step.

A knock at the door startled her. Mila’s voice called out softly, her tone subdued. “Elena? You ready?” Elena opened the door to find her friend with dark circles under her eyes, clutching her phone as though it were a lifeline. Behind her stood Henk, quiet but resolute, his usual warm smile replaced by a contemplative frown.

“Have you found anything else overnight?” Elena asked, ushering them inside. Henk shook his head. “Not yet,” he murmured, “but I’ve been thinking about the older parts of Rotterdam. De Verborgenen’s clues pointed us to the canals. Perhaps we need to go back even further in time—to where the city feels oldest.”

Mila pulled up a map on her phone, scanning the old harbour lines. “Delfshaven?” she suggested. “It’s survived so many changes. If anything historical remains, it might be there.” It was an impulsive idea, but given the night’s revelations, it felt right.

Journey to Delfshaven

They took the tram, riding west across the city until the sleek modern buildings gave way to older brick facades and tranquil waterfront views. Alighting near Aelbrechtskolk, they followed a cobblestone path that led past ivy-draped houses and small bridges arching gracefully over calm water. The air felt crisp, tinted with the aroma of fresh bread from a nearby bakery.

Delfshaven’s canals were quieter than the bustling heart of Rotterdam. Boats gently bobbed against the quays, and the reflection of centuries-old gables shimmered on the surface. At the Voorhaven, they paused to appreciate the view—rows of traditional Dutch houses leaning at slight angles, reminiscent of a storybook scene. Even in broad daylight, the area held an aura of historical depth, as though secrets might lie beneath every worn doorstep.

Henk opened a leather-bound notebook, scribbling notes as they walked. “Keep an eye out for anything that looks like a marker,” he instructed. “Another engraving, a symbol—something that connects to what we found along the Westersingel.”

Traces of the past

They wandered toward the Pilgrim Fathers Church, an imposing structure perched near the water, its spire a silent witness to the comings and goings of centuries. Locals strolled by, some offering polite nods. The hustle of central Rotterdam felt worlds away here, replaced by the soft clang of mooring ropes and the cry of distant seagulls.

In a narrow alley flanked by crooked buildings, Elena spotted a small plaque set into the wall. It depicted a stylised windmill and a date—1635—but no immediate sign of the ‘R’ or the geometric shapes they’d come to associate with De Verborgenen. Still, she photographed it, hoping it might prove relevant later.

As they neared the statue of Piet Heyn, the famed naval hero, Mila raised an eyebrow. “He was all about capturing silver fleets, but do you think he had any connection to secret societies?” Her tone was half-joking, yet the question underscored their growing sense that much of Rotterdam’s history might intertwine in unexpected ways.

Henk scanned the base of the statue, running his hand over the worn inscription. “Stranger things have happened,” he said quietly. “Rotterdam has always attracted merchants, explorers… and, apparently, guardians of hidden knowledge.”

A sudden confrontation

They followed the canal curve toward a small courtyard ringed by vintage lampposts. Elena froze when she caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette near the water—a figure clad in dark clothing, a scarf partially obscuring his face. The same stranger from Het Park.

Her pulse quickened. She nudged Mila and Henk, who both turned in unison. The stranger locked eyes with them, then spun on his heel, disappearing around the corner. Without a word, the three took off after him, weaving between startled pedestrians. Their footsteps echoed across the cobblestones, the pursuit carrying them past the Pelgrim Brewery and down a tight corridor lined with old, shuttered doors.

When they emerged onto a deserted quay, the stranger was nowhere to be seen. The still water lapped gently at the stone edge, oblivious to their chase. Elena’s heart pounded in her ears, the adrenaline making every breath feel electric.

Caught between fear and truth

Henk rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “He’s toying with us,” he said in a ragged voice. “He wants to make sure we know we’re being watched.”

Mila pushed a few stray hairs from her face. “But why? If De Verborgenen want us gone, they could’ve done worse than just tailing us,” she reasoned.

Elena glanced at the canals, the reflection of the old buildings merging with the sky’s grey light. “Maybe it’s a warning,” she whispered. “But also… maybe he’s leaving breadcrumbs, guiding us to the next clue. We found the engravings. We know we’re on the right track. Why else reveal himself here in Delfshaven?”

Henk considered this, nodding slowly. “We need to be cautious, but we can’t turn back. Our leads are multiplying, and the deeper we dig, the more convinced I am that there’s something monumental beneath Rotterdam’s everyday facade.”

Together, they retraced their steps toward the tram stop, the autumn wind rustling the golden leaves on the trees. As the sun dipped behind the gabled rooftops, a quiet resolve settled among them. Delfshaven had shown them traces of De Verborgenen’s presence—subtle hints hidden in centuries-old relics. It had also reminded them that they were not alone in their search.

They boarded the tram back to the city’s centre, uncertain of what new dangers or revelations awaited them. But one thing was clear: Rotterdam’s secrets weren’t confined to a single vault or archive. They were woven into the fabric of its oldest streets, etched into stone, waiting for those bold enough to piece together the puzzle.

Elena, Mila, and Henk, caught between fear and curiosity, resolved to do just that—even if the cost proved higher than they ever could have imagined.

Elena, Mila, and Henk find themselves drawn to unexpected corners of the city as they hunt for answers about De Verborgenen. Their search leads them to cryptic inscriptions along Rotterdam’s lesser-known streets and canals, bringing new questions to light.

A Rotterdam Story | Spoilers Podcast | S1E5

If you’re a fan of spoilers, listen to the latest podcast episode, in which our hosts discuss and analyse the events of this chapter.

Gathering at Cool District

The morning after their unsettling encounter in Het Park, the three agreed to meet in the Cool District, not far from the vibrant Witte de Withstraat. This area still carried an undercurrent of artistic energy from its many galleries and cultural spots. Though slightly weary from their nighttime escape, they gathered at Bazar, a colourful cafe known for its North African and Middle Eastern cuisine. Warmed by cups of spiced tea, they sat at a corner table, hushed by the weight of recent events.

Mila set down her mug, glancing at Elena and Henk. “After what happened, I couldn’t sleep,” she confessed. “That man mentioned De Verborgenen, and it’s clear they’re still active. But how? And why so protective?”

Elena shifted in her seat, recalling the stranger’s warning. “He basically told us to leave it alone,” she said. “But we can’t just walk away. There’s something bigger going on.”

Henk rubbed his tired eyes, nodding. “Agreed. We just need to keep a low profile. If De Verborgenen really are watching, we should be careful about where we go and who we talk to.”

They spoke in hushed tones, developing a plan to search for any records of De Verborgenen in the city archives. But Henk wanted to revisit a clue he’d found earlier—one that pointed to a canal near the Westersingel. According to the old map from the chamber, an engraving similar to the carved ‘R’ might be hidden there, a possible link to the group’s secret activities.

Searching the Westersingel canal

That afternoon, they walked towards the Westersingel, the canal’s water reflecting the grey sky overhead. Autumn leaves floated on the surface, creating a patchwork of orange and gold. They passed under the arching trees, the bustle of the city a muted backdrop.

Henk paused by a small footbridge overlooking the canal. “This area used to be lined with grand houses in centuries past,” he said, eyeing the stone embankment. “Some may have old markers or inscriptions.”

Mila leaned over the edge of the railing, scanning the mossy stones. “Are we sure it’s here?” she asked.

Elena pulled out her phone, comparing their location to the lines on the antique map she’d photographed. “It should be nearby,” she murmured. “The map showed a stylised canal bend, and that’s definitely this part of Westersingel.”

They carefully walked along the canal’s edge, peering at the stones. In a recessed corner, partially obscured by a tangle of ivy, Elena spotted an engraving. Heart pounding, she crouched down, brushing leaves aside. There it was—a faint, looping pattern reminiscent of the ‘R’ symbol they had seen before.

Henk’s face lit up. “This must be another mark from De Verborgenen,” he said quietly. “They may have used the canal’s edges as a hidden trail of sorts.”

A hidden inscription

Mila shivered in the chilly breeze. “What does it mean, though? Is it another entrance?”

Elena ran her fingertips along the stone. “No door or grate,” she said, “just the carving. But there might be more inscriptions.”

They decided to follow the canal further, crossing over to the opposite side near Eendrachtsplein. This square, often bustling with shoppers and cyclists, gave way to a quieter stretch along the water. The hum of traffic faded as they ventured onto a narrow path behind a row of tall plane trees. Their eyes skimmed every surface in search of additional symbols.

Eventually, they discovered a second engraving near a bench—this time not just an ‘R’, but a series of smaller geometric shapes that Elena carefully photographed. Henk studied the pattern, muttering theories under his breath. He noticed something akin to the windmill puzzle they had deciphered underground, but the lines were too faint to be sure.

An unexpected ally reappears

Suddenly, a movement caught Elena’s eye. Across the canal, a man stood watching them. She instantly recognised the dark scarf and the stiff posture—it was the stranger from Het Park. He lowered his gaze, then slipped behind a row of bicycles, vanishing before she could alert the others.

Mila followed Elena’s stare, her heart jolting when she realised who it was. “We’re definitely being followed,” she whispered. “He must know we’re onto something.”

Henk felt a surge of urgency. “Let’s not linger here,” he said, glancing around. “We should head to the city archives before it closes. Maybe we’ll find more about these symbols.”

The city archives on hofdijk

They hurried through the side streets, taking a tram towards Hofdijk, where the Rotterdam City Archives building rose in stately silence. The grey clouds overhead threatened rain, adding to the tense mood. Once inside, the atmosphere shifted—rows of shelves, the faint scent of old paper, and the soft hum of computers created a cocoon of research and discovery.

An archivist greeted them politely, and Henk explained they were looking into obscure historical references related to canal inscriptions. The archivist directed them to a section on city planning records from the 19th and early 20th centuries. The group spread out, leafing through yellowed documents and large bound volumes. Time slipped away in the hush of the reading room.

Elena’s focus wavered as she recalled the stranger’s words. Why warn them, yet keep appearing? Was he trying to guide them, or was he just another layer of deception? She steeled herself, determined to press on.

Midway through scanning a ledger, Mila stifled a gasp. “I’ve found something,” she said, her eyes wide. She slid the book towards Elena and Henk. It contained a diagram of the Westersingel canal, annotated with cryptic notes about “merchant gatherings” and “protective measures.” At the margin, a symbol almost identical to their carved ‘R’ leapt off the page.

“This must be a reference to De Verborgenen,” Henk breathed, his voice trembling with excitement. “It proves they used these markers—probably to mark meeting points or hide something significant.”

Elena carefully took photographs of the pages. She felt both exhilarated and uneasy, aware that each new piece of information tightened the group’s connection to a centuries-old secret. The more they learned, the more they risked attracting the attention of those who wanted the knowledge to remain hidden.

As they left the archives, the sky opened up in a gentle drizzle, the city lights reflecting on damp pavements. Despite the cold evening air, Elena felt a spark of determination. They now had proof that De Verborgenen were active around the canals. Whatever secrets the group guarded, it was deeper and more organised than they had ever imagined.

Yet questions remained. Why would anyone go to such lengths to protect these centuries-old mysteries? Who was the scarfed stranger, and what role did he play? Above all, how far were they willing to go to uncover the truth?

The answers, it seemed, waited just beneath the surface of the city itself—etched into stone, hidden in archives, and whispered among the canals of Rotterdam.

Elena, Mila, and Henk race up the staircase to escape the mysterious sounds echoing through the dark chamber. But when they finally emerge, they find that their troubles are far from over.

A Rotterdam Story | Spoilers Podcast | S1E4

If you're a fan of spoilers, listen to the latest podcast episode, in which our hosts discuss and analyse the events of this chapter.

Racing up the staircase

The narrow, winding staircase seemed even longer on the way up. Elena's legs burned as she pulled Mila along, Henk's flashlight flickering just ahead of them. The rhythmic tapping echoed behind them, growing louder, almost purposeful. It felt like something—or someone—was pursuing them, ascending from the shadows below.

Elena dared not look back, her breath shallow as she focused on her footing. Each step seemed like a small victory, and she clung to Mila's hand, using the connection to ground herself against the creeping panic that threatened to overwhelm her. The air grew warmer the higher they climbed, a reminder of the world they were struggling to return to.

Henk reached the top first, and with a grunt of effort, he pushed the metal plate back. The night air rushed in, cool and crisp, offering a moment of hope. He gestured for Mila and Elena to hurry, his expression set in grim determination.

Elena felt a rush of relief as she hauled herself out of the dark stairwell, helping Mila up after her. Henk quickly pulled the metal plate back into place, the heavy clang resonating in the stillness of the park. The tapping stopped abruptly, leaving only the sound of their ragged breathing.

For a moment, they stood there, catching their breath, the world aboveground feeling almost surreal after the darkness below.

“Is everyone okay?” Henk asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mila nodded, her eyes wide with fear. Elena looked back at the metal plate, her heart still pounding. “What was that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know,” Henk admitted, his face pale in the moonlight. “But I have a feeling it wasn’t friendly.”

The stranger in the shadows

Just as they began to collect themselves, Elena noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Someone was watching them from the treeline—a shadowed figure, barely visible in the dim light of the park. Her breath caught, and she quickly grabbed Henk's arm, nodding in the direction of the figure.

Henk turned, his eyes narrowing. The figure didn’t move, as if waiting. A chill ran down Elena’s spine as she felt the weight of the stranger's gaze, even from this distance.

Mila took a step back, her hand trembling as she reached for her phone. “Should we call someone?” she whispered, her voice tight.

Henk shook his head, his eyes still locked on the figure. “No. Not yet. Let’s see what they want.”

He took a cautious step forward, his flashlight now aimed directly at the stranger. “Who are you?” he called out, his voice echoing across the park. For a moment, there was no response, just the rustle of leaves in the cold breeze.

Then, slowly, the figure stepped into the light. It was a man, dressed in dark clothing, his face partially obscured by a scarf. He raised his hands slightly, a gesture of peace.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the man said, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. “This is no place for you. You need to leave—now.”

An unexpected ally?

Elena exchanged a wary glance with Mila, her pulse quickening again. Henk took another step closer, his brow furrowed. “Why? Who are you?” he demanded.

The man shook his head. “That’s not important. What’s important is that you leave before it’s too late. You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”

Elena felt a surge of frustration. “Then help us understand,” she said, her voice firmer now. “We found something down there—something that might be part of Rotterdam's history. We deserve to know what it is.”

The man hesitated, his eyes flickering between Elena, Henk, and Mila. For a moment, Elena thought he might actually explain, but then he shook his head again. “If you want answers, you’ll need to be careful. The Verborgenen aren’t just a story—they’re still watching, still protecting what’s theirs.”

Henk’s eyes widened slightly, the name clearly striking a chord. “You know about De Verborgenen?”

The man gave a slight nod. “I know enough to tell you that you’re in over your heads. They don’t take kindly to outsiders poking around in their secrets.” He paused, glancing back towards the treeline. “Leave now, and don’t come back. This is your only warning.”

With that, the man turned, disappearing back into the shadows as quickly as he had appeared. For a moment, they stood in stunned silence, the weight of his words settling over them.

Decisions under moonlight

Mila exhaled shakily, lowering her phone. “What do we do now?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

Henk looked at Elena, his expression conflicted. “We can’t just walk away from this. We’ve come too far—we’ve found too much,” he said, his voice filled with determination. “But we also can’t ignore what he said. If De Verborgenen are still out there…”

Elena nodded slowly. The fear still clung to her, but beneath it was a burning curiosity—a need to understand the truth, no matter the cost. “We need to be careful,” she said. “But I think we need to keep going. If they’re still protecting something, then it must be important.”

Mila swallowed, her gaze shifting between the two of them. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. But we need a plan. We can’t just stumble into this blind.”

Henk smiled, a hint of admiration in his eyes. “Agreed. We’ll regroup, gather what we need, and then we’ll figure out our next move. Together.”

Elena felt a flicker of hope amidst the fear. Whatever lay ahead, they weren’t alone—and they weren’t going to stop until they uncovered the truth.

Under the moonlight, they turned away from the hidden entrance, the city of Rotterdam stretching out before them—a city filled with secrets yet to be revealed.

Elena, Mila, and Henk venture into the dark staircase beneath Het Park. What they find will challenge their understanding of the city's past, and draw them further into the secrets of De Verborgenen.

A Rotterdam Story | Spoilers Podcast | S1E3

If you're a fan of spoilers, listen to the latest podcast episode, in which our hosts discuss and analyse the events of this chapter.

Descending into darkness

The first few steps into the staircase were tight, the air growing cooler with each descent. The sound of the metal plate being dragged back into place above them was the last reminder of the world above—leaving only darkness to embrace them. Elena's heart pounded, the chill seeping through her coat. Henk led the way, holding a small flashlight that cast a dim glow over the rough stone walls, while Mila stayed close behind Elena, her breathing shallow.

The staircase seemed endless, winding down into the earth. The walls were damp, and a faint echo of dripping water followed them as they descended. Elena tried to steady her breath, the sense of being completely cut off from the outside world making her pulse quicken.

“Are we sure about this?” Mila’s voice broke the silence, a nervous laugh in her words.

Henk glanced back, his expression a mix of determination and excitement. “I’ve waited decades for a moment like this,” he whispered, his voice almost reverent. “We’re getting close, I can feel it.”

Elena swallowed her fear and nodded, pressing on. It wasn’t just curiosity that drove her—it was the feeling that somehow, the city itself had pulled her here, demanding she uncover whatever lay beneath.

The hidden chamber

After what felt like an eternity, the staircase finally gave way to an open chamber. Henk's flashlight swept across the space, revealing old stone arches and a large wooden door set into the far wall. Symbols, similar to those on the map, were etched into the stone above the door—intricate spirals and the unmistakable carved ‘R’ of De Verborgenen.

Henk stepped forward, his gaze locked on the symbols. “These are real,” he muttered, almost to himself. He traced his fingers over the carvings, his face illuminated in the dim glow. “This place must have been one of their meeting spots—look at the craftsmanship, the detail.”

Elena approached the door, her hand hovering over the aged wood. It felt wrong to disturb it, as though they were intruding on something sacred. She looked at Mila, who gave her an encouraging nod, though her eyes betrayed her own apprehension.

Henk placed his hands against the door and pushed, but it refused to move. He frowned, pressing harder, his shoulders straining. “It’s stuck,” he said, a hint of frustration in his voice. Mila moved closer, running her hand over the carvings.

“Wait,” she said, her finger stopping at a small etching of a windmill. “This… it looks like it needs to be turned.” She pointed at a barely noticeable, rotatable disk carved into the door, shaped like a classic Dutch windmill, its blades etched with numbers ranging from 1 to 12.

The blades themselves were numbered 0, 3, 4, and 1—seemingly without any apparent order. They examined the setup for a moment, trying a few random alignments, but nothing happened. Henk frowned as the frustration built.

Mila looked thoughtful, her gaze lingering on the carved numbers. Then suddenly her eyes lit up. “What if it’s significant to the history of Rotterdam?” she said. “City rights for Rotterdam? The year 1340.”

Henk studied the windmill etching carefully, then turned the blades to match. He aligned them so that the blades fit into the corresponding slots: 1, 3, 4, 0.

At first, nothing happened, and Elena felt her breath hitch in anticipation. Then, slowly, a faint click echoed through the chamber, and the mechanism released.

“Of course,” Henk murmured, a smile of admiration crossing his face. “They would have used an important date from Rotterdam’s history. Ingenious.”

Henk pressed against the door again, and this time it gave way, the wood creaking as it moved, the sound echoing in the chamber. The door slowly swung open, revealing a darkness that seemed even deeper than the one they had left behind.

Secrets revealed

The room beyond was larger than Elena expected, and as Henk swept his flashlight across the space, something glittered. It was a table, covered in dusty but ornate objects—brass compasses, maps, and a collection of glass vials, each containing what looked like dried herbs or minerals. Elena’s eyes widened as she approached the table, her fingers brushing against one of the vials, its surface cool and fragile.

“This… this is incredible,” Mila said, her voice echoing softly. She reached for one of the maps, unfurling it carefully. It showed a version of Rotterdam she barely recognised—an old city, crisscrossed with canals that no longer existed, landmarks that had either vanished or been transformed.

Henk’s eyes were alight with wonder. “These must have been their tools—things they used to navigate, to communicate. The Hidden Ones were known for their knowledge of alchemy and navigation.” He picked up a brass compass, its needle still quivering as though it had only just been disturbed after centuries of stillness.

Elena studied the symbols on the map, her brow furrowing. One mark, in particular, caught her attention—a spot near Noordereiland. It is a small island in the middle of the Nieuwe Maas river. The island is known for its picturesque views of Rotterdam's skyline. Historically, it served as a shipbuilding hub. The spot was circled and marked with the carved ‘R’. “This must be important,” she said, showing it to Henk.

Henk nodded, his excitement palpable. “It could be another meeting place. Or something they hid—something valuable.”

Mila, who had been examining the vials, spoke up. “I think these were meant for some kind of ritual. Look at how they’re arranged—almost like an offering.” She looked at Henk, her eyes wide. “What if this place wasn’t just for meetings? What if they practised something here?”

Elena shivered, a chill running down her spine. The air felt thicker now, as though the room itself were aware of their presence. “We should document this,” she said, her voice steadying as she took out her phone. She began taking pictures, the flash briefly lighting up the dark corners of the chamber.

Henk smiled, nodding approvingly. “Good idea. The world needs to see this—it’s part of Rotterdam’s history, a part that’s been buried for too long.”

A sudden noise

Just as Elena lowered her phone, a noise echoed from the staircase—a faint, rhythmic tapping, growing louder with each passing second. She froze, her heart pounding. The others heard it too, their eyes widening.

“Is someone else down here?” Mila whispered, her voice barely audible.

Henk turned towards the door, his face suddenly serious. “We need to leave. Now,” he said, his voice urgent. He motioned for them to move, his flashlight flickering slightly as he hurried towards the staircase.

Elena’s stomach churned with fear, but she forced herself to move, her eyes darting towards the source of the sound. It was getting closer. Whoever—or whatever—it was, they had no intention of meeting it. She grabbed Mila's hand, pulling her towards the stairs, Henk leading the way.

As they began their ascent, the tapping grew louder, echoing through the stone chamber. Elena didn't dare look back. The darkness below seemed to reach for them, the unknown pressing against their backs as they climbed, step by step, back towards the world above.