Chapter 8 - Breaking the Seal
“Stay back!” William shouted, shoving Lucy behind his shoulder as he slashed wildly at the shadowy hands clawing up from the stone floor.
The magic was heavy, suffocating the air out of their lungs. Captain Marcus swung a heavy iron bar, smashing the skeletal hands to pieces, but for every one they destroyed, two more rose to take its place.
At the center of the altar, the Chancellor threw his head back and laughed, a hollow, echoing sound that drowned out the roaring wind. He brought the crown down toward an empty stone pedestal, preparing to lock the final sacrifice into place.
“Lucy! The key!” William yelled over the deafening roar of the magic.
Lucy didn't hesitate. She scrambled across the fracturing floor, dodging a lunging shadow-hand, and sprinted directly toward the side of the massive stone altar. The Chancellor swung his arm back, backhanding her hard enough to send her tumbling across the rough stone.
“Insolent rat!” the Chancellor hissed, raising a hand crackling with dark lightning to strike her down.
Before he could unleash the bolt, William lunged across the altar, tackling the old man mid-air. The two of them crashed hard against the stone, scrambling in a desperate, brutal struggle for dominance.
“Now, Lucy! Use the master key!” William roared, pinning the Chancellor’s arm to the stone with all his weight.
Lucy scrambled to her feet, pulling the glowing blue iron key from her pocket. She spotted the master keyhole embedded directly into the base of the central altar—hidden beneath centuries of dust and blood.
She thrust the key into the lock.
It didn't turn easily. The metal fought back, grating against her fingers with freezing, icy resistance.
“Don't do it,” a deep, ancient voice echoed from the depths of the stone altar—the voice of the vault itself, begging for its survival. “If you break the seal, the kingdom falls.”
“Let it fall!” Lucy screamed, throwing her entire body weight against the key with a furious burst of adrenaline.
With a deafening CRACK that sounded like a mountain splitting in half, the key turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees.
A blinding shockwave of pure, white-hot light erupted from the base of the altar, instantly shattering the crimson beam of moonlight streaming through the ceiling. The shadowy hands clawing at the floor dissolved into harmless mist.
The Chancellor let out a piercing, unhuman shriek. As the magical drain reversed, the dark runes carved into his skin began to flare with blinding intensity, before instantly turning to gray ash.
He aged a thousand years in a single second, his skin wrinkling, collapsing inward until nothing was left of him but a pile of dust blowing away in the damp underground wind.
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At the same time, the golden crown slipped from his dying grip, tumbling across the stone floor. It hit the ground with a dull, heavy thud—and then, for the first time in centuries, absolute silence filled the vault.
Lucy dropped to her knees, breathless, her hands shaking uncontrollably as the blue glow of the master key slowly faded into dull, ordinary iron.
