Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Archive
The royal archives were buried deep beneath the oldest foundations of Ashenmore Castle, where the stone walls wept cold moisture and torchlight flickered against endless rows of leather-bound ledgers. Eloin moved silently down the aisle, her fingers trailing over centuries of royal decrees, tax records, and execution logs.
Kalin stood by the heavy oak door, keeping watch while she searched for the hidden documents concerning her mother's trial and the missing princess.
"Here," Eloin murmured, pulling a heavy, dust-covered ledger from the upper shelf.
The pages were yellowed with age, bearing the official red wax seal of the previous king—Kalin’s father. As she flipped through the trial transcripts of her mother, a folded piece of parchment slipped out and fluttered to the stone floor.
Eloin knelt and picked it up. Her eyes scanned the handwriting, and the blood drained from her face.
"What is it?" Kalin asked, stepping quickly to her side.
"It’s not just a trial record," Eloin whispered, her hands trembling slightly. "It’s a ledger of bribes. Payments authorized by Chancellor Vane to the witnesses who swore they saw my mother practicing dark magic. He didn't just participate in her execution—he bought it."
Kalin’s face hardened into a mask of pure, glacial fury. He took the parchment from her hands, his eyes scanning the signatures. "The same seal. The exact same handwriting he uses on council treasury reports today."
Before Kalin could speak further, a sharp sound echoed from the dark corridor outside the archive—the faint, unmistakable click of a bootheel against the flagstones.
Someone was outside the door.
Kalin reacted instantly, snuffing out the nearest wall torch with a sweep of his heavy leather glove, plunging the aisle into deep shadow. He pulled Eloin flush against his chest, wrapping his cape around them both to shield their forms from the sliver of light slipping beneath the heavy oak door.
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The heavy bolt slid. The door creaked open.
A figure stepped into the dim threshold, holding a single flickering candle. The warm glow illuminated the sharp, unmistakable profile of Chancellor Vane.
