Chapter 6 - Journey to the Sunken Citadel
With Cedric and his core conspirators locked in the deep dungeons, Blackwinter Court was in a state of stunned transformation. The nobles who had cheered for Rowan’s execution hours earlier now whispered in terrified awe as the winged beast roamed the inner gardens, its presence a constant, fiery reminder of the true bloodline restored.
In the royal map room, Rowan, Helena, and Marcus bent over an ancient, leather-bound sea chart dating back to the First Cataclysm.
“The red ice on the medallion,” Rowan pointed a finger at a jagged coastal marking on the map. “It’s not just magic. It’s a seal. The same seal that locked away the Sunken Citadel when Vespera’s throne was overthrown.”
“If you break the seal at the citadel, the full power of the Ashbourne dynasty will awaken—and so will the ancient wardens who protected the realm before the councils corrupted it,” Helena explained, looking up at Rowan with deep respect. “But Cedric’s remaining loyalists in the eastern provinces are marching toward the capital as we speak. They won't let you reach the coast.”
“Then we don’t have time to wait for their siege,” Rowan said, standing up straight. He looked out the tall arched window toward the courtyard below, where the winged tiger sat patiently, its single eye fixed on the window. “The beast is waiting. We ride for the Sunken Citadel tonight.”
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Marcus strapped a fresh set of steel greaves over his boots. “Count me in. Someone has to keep you from doing something profoundly heroic and remarkably stupid.”
Helena smiled faintly, placing a hand on Rowan’s arm. “Bring back the crown, Rowan. And bring back our peace.”
