43. Vault of the First Stone #2
The woman was breathtaking, her ruby hair flowing behind her as she parried an attack.
Triangular eyes narrowed on her attacker; their icy blue hue was easy to decipher from afar.
Her armor was a masterwork of blackened, engraved plate, forged to fit like a second skin without sacrificing protection.
Intricate filigree and layered pauldrons gave it an elegant yet intimidating edge, crimson accents weaving through the design to evoke nobility and relentless fury.
The sword she wielded mirrored her armor, its blade stained a deep red, as if it were dried blood. Swinging it around her frame, she ran her thumb along its sharpened edge. Her essence bloomed, and with it, she grinned with dangerous promise.
“You wish to continue testing me, Heir?”
A dark chuckle came from the man she spoke to, his timbre carrying aged familiarity. “Oh, you poisonous little thing… Have you learned nothing from your time beneath my boot? I will pluck every thorn from you until nothing but a bare stem remains. For you, little rose, are mine to devour.”
The unexpectedness of the crack of thunder overhead caused me to flinch as he stepped out from behind a massive trunk.
Blackened steel, scarred by countless battles, wrapped his impressive frame beneath a weathered cloak.
Hood concealing his face, the articulated gauntlets moved with practiced ease, each piece forged for decimation rather than ceremony.
Longsword drawn, the pulse of potency clung to it—a weapon that had ended more lives than one could count.
Stopping only a few paces from her, the wind tugged at the edges of his cape.
His free hand moved, and one by one his fingers curled around the fabric concealing his features.
One tug was all it took before shoulder-length curls of brilliant white spilled free, stark against his dark armor.
Features sharp and refined by years of violence, inky stubble painted his jawline and cheeks in an eye-catching clash.
But it was his eyes that forced me to pause.
Their irises shimmered with every color imaginable, vibrant bands of crimson, sapphire, emerald, gold, and violet swirling together like living light. I’d seen that rainbow stare only once before, in a vision just like this…
Heaving for even a fraction of air, my palms flattened against the cushion I sat on. Thoughts whirling like a violent storm, each shuddered breath seemed to function as a reminder of what I’d encountered. A confirmation that what I had witnessed held meaning correlated to—
“Kael, what in the ever-loving gods?” A voice—Syoran—questioned as the door to Caspian’s chambers closed. “What the fuck happened?”
“I-I…” Leaning back, I raked my fingers through my hair, chest rising and falling at a rate far too rapid. “I found something, and I… I saw something again.”
He approached, hand settling on my shoulder as he examined me with scrutiny. No, not scrutiny… Care. “First, are you okay? You’re—”
Before he could finish, I felt the trickle I was certain he was referencing. Lifting my arm in response, I swiped my thumb across my nose, collecting a streak of scarlet.
Blood.
My gaze found him once more, and I nodded. “I… I’m pretty sure I’m okay. I mean, I feel fine.”
“But your fucking nose is bleeding.”
“Yeah, well, it’s minimal,” I shot back before wiping my essence on my trousers. “And we have far graver things to focus on.”
Scratching at his stubble, Syoran dipped his chin. “Okay. What did you find?”
I grabbed his wrist before I could stop myself and yanked him toward the space across from me and the ancient texts. Fingers closing around its pages, I spun it around, nudging it to him.
“I’ve been fixated on this passage.” Pointing at the words I’d obsessed over, I continued, “It offers insight into the summoning of the five gods, as well as clues as to what awaits the future of Wraelira and the realm beyond that Parran, Ignis, and Lorelie continue speaking of, Narvendor.” Syoran opened his mouth to comment, but I kept going, “Not only that, but I think I’ve figured out where the summoning needs to take place, and may have seen two of the Divari that exist just beyond the veil. ”
Blinking, he held my gaze, his a blend of confusion and hope. “Okay, so, where do we need to go once we have all five artifacts?”
“Serevalen,” I mumbled. “I mean, that’s what I interpreted.
The riddle suggests a ‘Vault of the First Stone,’ and the first thing that came to mind was the cellar in the northern wing of the palace that my father had closed off when I was about thirteen.
Sorva was there when he set a rule in place that no one could access it unless they wished to face execution, so maybe… ”
Utterance fading, I watched as Syoran traced the space just below the section I’d shown him. Brows furrowed in concentration, he ran his tongue along his bottom lip before saying, “Hand me the quill.”
Bewildered, I grabbed it and dipped it in the ink I’d set on the table beside me before passing it to him. He took it, our fingers brushing during the exchange. The searing heat that bloomed in response swept up my arm before encasing both sides of my throat in what felt like a blush.
There is just something about him…
Clearing my throat, I craned my head in an attempt to hide it and pointed at the grimoire. “Did you find another hint?”
“No,” he stated, his attention fixated on the parchment, “I think I found a hidden inscription, one that may have been intentionally placed.”
“Intentionally? Like drawn with a utensil that merely formed an indentation?”
“Yes.”
Syoran leaned forward, adjusting his grip on the quill before carefully sweeping it across the page.
His strokes were gentle, marking the worn scroll in wavering lines.
The mark grew, yet no single shape appeared.
But, as soon as I went to suggest he stop, the same handwriting responsible for the passage I’d studied clashed against the dark ink as an irrefutable ‘M.’
“Wait, Syoran…”
He continued, each pass over the area revealing yet another letter.
Staring, I mumbled, “Signed, Morwenna Duskryn. Who is—”
Syoran cut me off, his tone urgent, yet clinging to a tinge of knowingness. “We need to go see Caspian. Now.”