Chapter 6 - Blood and Stone
The spiraling staircase eventually opened into a vast, subterranean cavern that smelled intensely of old iron and wet stone. Giant pillars carved in the likeness of ancient monarchs stretched upward into the gloom, holding up the weight of the entire cathedral and citadel complex above.
As they crept along the outer wall of the Sunken Vaults, the distant sound of heavy iron boots echoed from a parallel corridor.
“Patrol,” Rhys hissed, grabbing Sera by the back of her ruined white gown and yanking her down behind a massive stone sarcophagus.
They held their breath as three of Regent Malrec’s elite guards marched past, their armor clanking rhythmically in the damp air. They were carrying heavy crossbows, their faces grim and focused.
Once the sound of their footsteps faded into the distance, Sera let out a slow, controlled breath, her hand sliding down to grip the heavy iron poker like a mace.
“Your own castle is crawling with his men, Rhys,” she whispered, her eyes scanning the shadows. “How deep does Malrec’s influence go?”
“Deeper than I care to admit,” Rhys growled quietly, peeking around the edge of the stone tomb before motioning her forward. “When my father died and I took the throne, the court was a nest of vipers. I purged the high council, but Malrec... he managed to secure a foothold in the western provinces by offering trade concessions. He must have blackmailed Amara’s uncle—or disposed of him entirely—to orchestrate this whole farce.”
They reached the end of the tunnel, coming face-to-face with a massive circular door made of black iron and reinforced oak. Intricate runes were carved into the metal frame, glowing with a faint, pulsing blue light.
“The Blood Seal,” Rhys muttered, running a gloved hand along the cold metal. “It only opens for someone carrying the true royal bloodline—or someone carrying an active illusion charm powered by royal blood.”
Sera stepped up to the door. She looked down at her hands—at the burn scar, at the calloused fingers that had spent more time scrubbing floors and swinging tools than holding scepters.
“Malrec used the royal physician’s powders and potions to alter my scent and appearance,” Sera murmured, realization dawning on her. “He didn't just dress me up. He used some kind of blood-binding magic during those two days in the cell to trick the border wards.”
“Which means the door will recognize you as Amara,” Rhys finished, stepping back to give her room. “Put your hand against the rune.”
Sera hesitated for a fraction of a second. If the magic recognized her as an imposter, the defense mechanisms of the ancient vault could incinerate her on the spot. But looking back down the dark tunnel—remembering the gallows she had left behind, and the smug face of Malrec raising his cup—she pressed her palm flat against the glowing blue metal.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then, the runes flared blindingly bright. A sharp, searing pain shot up Sera’s arm as the magic tasted her skin, testing her essence, stripping away the layers of illusion and deceit.
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Click. Clack. Thud.
With a sound like thunder rolling through the earth, the massive black iron door unlatched and slowly swung inward, revealing a dark, treasure-filled chamber beyond.
