Chapter 6 - Shadows in the Catacombs

The high council was dismissed within ten minutes. The alphas filed out of the Grand Hall in terrified silence, Lord Vane being carried away by his guards after fainting from the sheer pressure of Aiel’s blood-manifestation.

Yet, despite the victory, a heavy unease settled over the inner keep.

Midnight had fallen by the time Aiel stood on the stone balcony of Rovik’s private chambers, looking out over the churning black waters of the Hollow Sea. The cold wind whipped her golden hair around her face, but she felt no chill. The fire inside her veins kept her warm—too warm, sometimes, pulsing like a living entity that demanded action.

The heavy oak door opened softly, and footsteps approached.

"You should be resting," Rovik’s voice broke the silence. He stepped out onto the balcony, holding two silver goblets of spiced wine. He handed one to her, his fingers brushing hers. "The council is broken, and Vane’s estate is currently being seized by my vanguard. You won."

Aiel took the goblet, though she didn't drink. She stared down at the dark, swirling liquid. "I didn't win anything, Rovik. I just reclaimed what was stolen. But it feels... hollow. Vernath is dead, Vane is routed, but someone paid Vernath to take me twelve years ago. Someone inside the Stormhold court."

Rovik leaned against the stone railing beside her, his dark hair catching the moonlight. "I know. And we're going to find out who."

"How?"

"Vane’s panic gave him away," Rovik said, his eyes narrowing as he gazed out toward the jagged sea-cliffs. "He didn't just doubt your lineage; he knew specific details about the purge that only an insider of the high syndicate would know. There is a hidden archive beneath the catacombs—an old vault sealed during the First House's fall. Vane kept his records there."

Aiel turned her head to look at him, the golden light flickering in her eyes. "Then we go down there."

"It's dangerous," Rovik warned, though a familiar, dangerous smile touched his lips. "The catacombs are guarded by ancient blood-wards designed to test any royal who enters. If your blood isn't pure enough, the wards will strip your soul from your body."

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Aiel let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Rovik, I survived six years in Vernath’s holding pens with an iron collar eating through my neck. I think I can handle a few ancient wards."

Rovik chuckled, clinking his goblet against hers. "That's my queen."