Chapter 19 Lena #2
She could explore one of the tunnels. Just one. And even if it didn’t lead her to the chamber, she could at least rule out that path for when she returned.
Lena weighed her options. Both tunnels looked exactly the same; damp and narrow and impossibly dark.
The breeze coming from the left tunnel was slightly stronger, the air slightly cooler, meaning it would likely lead to the escape route from the palace itself.
The idea of being outside, of having the stars above her head and fresh air in her lungs, made it a tempting choice.
But if the old Zvaerna chamber did exist, it would be buried deep underground, hidden away from the rest of the city.
Lena hesitated, remembering Venysa’s parting words. It will be difficult for me to contact you. I will try, but in the meantime, your magic will guide you—if you let it. Her power had led her to the tunnel entrance itself. Perhaps it could help her figure out which way to go now.
Lena closed her eyes, searching for the steady hum of magic inside of her.
It was the first time she’d actively sought it out, and her lungs immediately constricted as she felt it answer her call.
Every instinct was telling her to push it back down, but …
she couldn’t. Not if she wanted to be free.
Breathing deeply through her nose, Lena forced herself to relax until she felt a now-familiar sensation of magic in the air.
It was coming from the tunnel on the right, flowing through the darkness like a gentle breeze.
Lena opened her eyes and, with one last longing glance at the tunnel that likely led to an exit, took the path to the tunnel to the right.
She’d barely taken a few steps when the mark on her wrist began to burn.
The tunnel was slightly wider here, the stone darker and covered in moss.
Somewhere nearby, the steady tap, tap, tap of water hitting the ground echoed against the stone.
The magic inside of her seemed to grow stronger, as if it recognized something down here.
Something raw and ancient and powerful. Was it just her paranoia, or was there a shape in the darkness?
The faint outline of an almost beast-like silhouette?
Lena froze, the cool metal of the letter opener in her hand nowhere near as reassuring as the familiar hilt of her dagger would have been. Slowly, she pushed her torch forward, bracing herself for the sight of whatever awaited her in the dark—
Nothing.
Lena let out a shaky sigh, her eyes searching the empty space before her. Just your imagination, Lena, she told herself.
Still, her death grip on the letter opener didn’t loosen as she continued walking, cautiously taking bend after bend until a familiar pain sliced through her head.
As it had in her dream in Deyecia, the air began to hum with energy, the sound vibrating through her skin and into her bones.
She gritted her teeth against the sensation. Against the flow of power in her veins.
She was suddenly flooded with a rush of anxiety that wasn’t her own. The tunnel around her began to fade, replaced by what looked to be a stone prayer room. Dimas was kneeling on the ground, his eyes closed, lips parted as a fair-haired girl instructed him to focus on his breath.
Lena’s lungs constricted as she desperately tried to block out the image. She couldn’t let him see her whereabouts right now. Couldn’t let him know of her plans.
But the prince didn’t seem aware of her. Each time their connection had triggered before, he had acknowledged her. Spoken to her. Now he simply remained still, eyes closed as what looked like shadows twisted around his threads.
The vision disappeared in a flood of darkness.
And then Lena was safely back in her own mind, her feelings once more entirely hers For a moment she simply stood still, her heart thumping in her chest. Something had severed their connection before Lena could.
Something that felt cold and strangely familiar.
And whilst Lena was grateful she hadn’t been caught, it was yet another piece of a puzzle that was becoming increasingly harder to solve.
The sooner I find this damn ritual, the better.
Cautious of any further signs that the bond might be triggering, Lena pushed onward.
The pain in her head grew stronger the farther she walked, weighing down her every step with sharp agony.
It was like walking through a snowstorm, and everything in her body screamed at her to retreat.
To seek shelter. But she could not—would not—turn back now.
Not if it meant losing her chance at freeing herself from Dimas.
And so Lena pushed onward. She was nearly stumbling by the time she came to a stop before a set of large stone doors. The humming in her ears rose to a crescendo, so loud it drowned out the beat of her own heart and the shallow puffs of her breath.
She squinted through the pain in her head and willed herself to focus on the stone doors softly lit by her torch.
There were no handles to open them with.
A small, dark gap through the middle of the doors was nowhere near wide enough for her to shimmy something through and pry it open.
Nor could she peer through it. The stone itself was covered in moss, the damp, earthy scent of it thick in Lena’s throat.
Had she let her magic torture her for another dead end?
But just there—between the moss and the dust, so faded they were barely noticeable—were symbols. A half dozen she could make out. One or two she recognized—the symbol for fate and the symbol for Zvaerna—but the rest were lost on her.
Still, a fresh wave of hope flooded through her chest. This had to be the entrance to the acolyte’s hidden chamber. She just had to find a way inside.
Tucking the letter opener into the sleeve of her night gown, Lena raised a hand, her fingers brushing against the stone.
The mark on her wrist burned again, fiercely this time, as she made contact—magic recognizing magic.
Her head throbbed fiercely as she saw the flash of a man dressed in Zvaerna robes, lips moving in a soundless chant, palm pressed against the stone as the symbols lit up with a blazing, silver light.
Lena stumbled back.
She hadn’t been able to make out the man’s words, but he was clearly reciting something that activated the symbols engraved into the doors. Or … was he reading them? If Lena could translate the symbols … maybe she’d have her way into the chamber.
Sucking in a deep breath, she pressed her hand against the stone once more, bracing herself for the vision.
For the sharp pain in her head and the flood of magic in her veins.
But no matter how hard she tried, Lena couldn’t summon the vision again.
The agony in her head and on her wrist had ebbed away as her magic receded—a tool she didn’t know how to wield. Not by herself.
“Dammit.”
Lena stepped back from the doors, sweat beading on her brow. Until she figured out what the damned symbols meant and how they worked, she was never going to get them open.
And to do that, she was going to have to do the one thing Dimas had brought her here to do.
She was going to have to learn how to control the Fateweaver’s magic.