Chapter 37
Istep into the cavern behind Fiadh, my feet skimming over the cool stone floor with a practiced caution.
The air is musty with the scent of undisturbed centuries, and the darkness seems almost sentient, wrapping around us like a shroud.
Tiernan, ever the prepared one in our motley crew, fishes out flashlights from his seemingly bottomless bag and hands them out.
“Careful,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the walls themselves might be listening.
The beams of light cut through the gloom, revealing a chamber that dwarfs all the ones we’ve traversed before.
It’s not just larger—it’s a veritable museum of history, with artifacts piled haphazardly against the walls.
There are items I recognize from textbooks and heist movies; treasures that vanished from the world, now hidden away here like a dragon’s hoard.
“Damn,” I breathe out, unable to stop myself. “This is... insane. Do you know how much scratch we could make carting this back and selling it? Fuck. Me. Running.” My statement earns me matching glares from the others, but who the fuck cares?
I’m not wrong.
My flashlight beam dances over the walls, landing on intricate carvings and faded murals that speak of a time when the stars were maps and guides. They depict constellations, zodiac signs, all the celestial players in the theatre of the night sky.
“Ugh, astrology,” I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes at the thought of people believing that stars millions of miles away have any say in their lives. “What a load of absolute bullshit.”
“Actually,” Sassy interjects, stepping closer to a mural carved with what looks like an ancient star map, “it’s not as simple as you think. Human interpretations may be flawed, but for those of us attuned to magic, there’s considerable truth in the stars.”
Her fingers trace the lines of a constellation I can’t name, her touch reverent. The dim glow of her skin seems to resonate with the stone, a subtle dance of light that suggests she’s more than just muscle and sass.
“Seers, magic users—we can glean things that go beyond mere horoscopes and fortune-telling,” she adds, her amber eyes flicking up to meet mine. “There’s power woven into the cosmos, patterns that speak to those who know how to listen.”
I’m about to argue—because that’s what I do—but something in our girl’s expression stops me. There’s an earnestness there, a conviction that makes me bite back my skepticism.
Maybe there’s more to this world than I care to admit, even after everything we’ve seen.
As her words linger between us, Revelin steps forward, the light from his flashlight casting an otherworldly glow on his face.
“The lass is right, snake. Human myths,” he says, his voice echoing slightly off the walls, “are but shadows of the truth. The real magic—the essence behind cards, runes, spells, and stars—that’s the lifeblood of our kind. ”
Dezi lets out a long, deliberate sigh, his silhouette framed by the towering piles of relics.
“Are we done defending the legitimacy of magic users’ beliefs, then?
” he asks, her tone weary but edged with irritation.
“I don’t think convincing the snakelet is getting us any closer to figuring out what this chamber wants us to do. ”
Fiadh bristles at the comment, her gaze as sharp as the shards of light reflecting off the surrounding treasure. “I couldn’t give a damn about the fools who exiled me,” she retorts, her eyes still locked on Dezi, “but I won’t stand for being lumped in with charlatans and con artists.”
I can feel the tension prickle my skin, and without thinking, I wince. The last thing we need is infighting—not here, surrounded by centuries of history that could turn on us in an instant. Voice barely above a murmur, I lean towards our mate, “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Her anger softens, replaced by a grin that lights up even the darkest corners of the cavern. “It’s fine, Khol,” she says, and her sincerity hits me harder than any apology I’ve ever made. “Just…keep an open mind. I don’t question your weird snake-egg-hatching theories outright, do I?”
Snorting, I shake my head. “You act like you’re going to pull a Sandra Bullock, but no, you don’t question it. Point taken.”
“Everyone, watch your step,” Tiernan mutters, his voice a low thrum in the heavy air of the cavernous room. He’s gesturing to what looks like an altar—or maybe it’s a control panel—crafted from stone and metal sitting dead center beneath the precarious ceiling.
“That’s not ominous at all. Guess we should get to sleuthing,” I say, squinting in the dim light as I pull out one of the flashlights the leopard passed around. The beam cuts through the darkness, spotlighting dust motes dancing like spirits in the stale air.
We scatter without another word, each of us drawn to different corners of the chamber. My flashlight sweeps across the walls, illuminating carvings so intricate they could be maps of entire galaxies. But there are no instructions, no handy ‘insert tab A into slot B’ to guide us.
Fucking Fae and their stupid ass riddles.
“Anything?” I call out after several long minutes of fruitless searching. Silence greets me, punctuated only by the soft sounds of our exploration: the scrape of Dezi’s boot against stone, Revelin’s quiet murmur as he reads some unseen script, Fiadh’s steady breathing.
Then there’s a shift in the air—a pulse of something electric that even I feel. Our witch gasps, her voice echoing around us. “I think I’ve got it,” she declares, her tone threaded with excitement and awe.
We converge on her as she stands before a mural depicting the night sky in a swirl of silver and sapphire.
Her fingers dance over the constellations as if she’s playing an instrument only she can see.
“See here?” Fi’s hand hovers above a cluster of stars shaped like an archer.
“Sagittarius—but not quite as we know it. This is older, maybe unblemished by human interpretation. If we align the mechanisms with these constellations...”
“This is wild magic,” Revelin breathes, tracing symbols that crawl like ivy around the edges of the mural. His eyes gleam with a knowledge born of his lineage, of secrets passed down through generations. “Only the Hunt uses it now. Maybe they’re connected to this place?”
“Hey, Bloodbag, can you make anything of this text?” I ask, pointing to a line of characters that might as well be random scratches to my untrained eye.
“This is ancient,” he murmurs, running his fingertips over the words. “It’s a directive—a command for the stars to guide the way, but it’s in a tongue not spoken for countless centuries. By vampires.”
Well, that’s fucking weird smack dab in the middle of Faerie.
“The stars should guide the way to what? And why would vampires give a shit?” I wonder aloud, more to myself than anyone else.
“We won’t find any answers unless we keep poking around,” Tiernan chimes in. His hands are already probing the odd configuration at the room’s heart, his analytical mind dissecting its purpose.
“Look for Sagittarius,” Sassy instructs us, her voice imbued with newfound authority. “And its kin—the surrounding constellations. I think they’re the key.”
Tiernan and I exchange a glance, a silent agreement passing between us. We set to work, each of us a cog in a machine far greater than the sum of its parts. My hands move over cold metal, feeling for catches, levers, anything that might be manipulated.
“Here,” Tiernan calls out, his fingers deftly adjusting a series of dials carved into the side of the central device. “These must represent celestial bodies.”
The next steps are all about following Fiadh’s lead, Revelin’s interpretations, Dezi’s translations, and Tiernan’s mechanical intuition. But each discovery builds upon the last until we stand back, panting and expectant, watching the pieces of the puzzle we’ve assembled wait to come alive.
“Did we do it?” Tiernan asks, his usual confidence replaced by a hint of trepidation.
“Move it left,” Fiadh’s voice is calm but insistent as she channels her magic, her fingers tracing invisible lines in the air, connecting dots only she can see.
Beside me, Tiernan grunts as he shifts a heavy stone disc, its surface etched with constellations that suddenly seem to dance under Fiadh’s influence. “Rev, I need your help.”
“Steady there,” Dezi says, he maneuvers a large, angular object into a notch on the floor. It fits with a satisfying clunk, setting off a series of soft clicks that echo through the chamber like a whispered incantation.
I watch them work, feeling useless for a moment, until Tiernan beckons me over. “Khol, help me with this last part.” I nod, moving to assist him with what looks like an elaborate astrolabe, its arms poised to align.
“Ready?” Revelin asks from his spot next to our mate, his eyes seeking confirmation.
I place my hands on the cool metal, waiting for his signal. Now or never, I guess.
“Now,” he commands, and together, we twist the mechanism. A final, resonant click sounds—a chorus of ancient machinery coming to life—and the room holds its breath before it surrenders to change.
The ground trembles beneath our feet, dust motes sparkling in our beams of light as if the very air is electrified with anticipation. Then, right where the central device stood, the floor retreats, stone grinding against stone, revealing a compartment that was hidden from time itself.
“Careful,” I warn, instinctively reaching out to steady Sassy as she leans forward, her curiosity piqued by the pulsing glow emanating from within the cavity. Inside it lies a map, its lines shimmering with a light that seems to have been captured from the stars themselves.
“By the moons...” she breathes out, her voice a mixture of awe and reverence.
I can’t help but share in it. I recognize the place the map details from our previous research. It’s the entire Harvest Court, but the layout focuses on the capital of Amber Hollow—our next and last destination.
“Can you make any sense of it?” I ask Revelin, watching as his eyes skim over the ancient Fae script bordering the map.
“Perhaps,” he muses, “but not here. This requires time and safety.”
“Back to the bus then,” I suggest, knowing that whatever secrets the map holds, they’re too precious to risk in the open. Fiadh nods, already wrapping her fingers around the map’s edges, her magic flaring briefly to ensure its protection.
“Time to move out, then,” Tiernan says, casting one last glance around the cavern that has given up its secret after centuries of silence.
Revelin’s fingers dance through the air, tracing runes that glow with a soft azure luminescence before sinking into the fabric of Sassy’s bag.
The map, now cocooned within the protective charm, settles into its new home, safe from prying eyes and the ravages of time.
We all watch, holding our breath until the final glimmer fades, and she secures the clasp with a satisfied nod.
“It should be safe from damage in transit now,” Revelin announces, his tone a blend of relief and caution. “As the big kitty said, we should haul ass out of this place before the damn thing collapses or some shit.”
As if breaking from a spell, we turn to survey the cavern one last time. It’s a museum of impossibilities, each artifact whispering tales of bygone eras. I can almost hear Khal’s voice in my head, chiding me for not appreciating the ‘history shit’ as much as he would.
“Khal would’ve spent years in here,” I mutter to myself, but loud enough for Fi to hear.
She chuckles softly, her gaze lingering on an ornate puzzle box.
“Feray would have dismantled and rebuilt every mechanism by now. She’s seems like she’s only super girly and homey since she found Torben, but the girl broke and then fixed more things in our house than you’d ever know.
” Her smile is wistful, eyes clouded with the same longing I feel when I think of my brother.
We share a heavy sigh; the sound echoing off the walls, blending with the quiet hum of magic that permeates the air.
“Once we’re in Amber Hollow, we’ll reach out to Rowena again,” Revelin promises, sensing the shift in mood. Fiadh’s face brightens at his words, a spark of hope lighting up her emerald eyes.
“Good,” she replies, shouldering her bag with newfound determination. “She might know more about this map.”
Taking one last glance at the cavern’s treasures, we navigate the maze of puzzle rooms, each step taking us further away from the secrets we’d unearthed.
The gateway looms ahead, an archaic structure that hums with energy, ready to whisk us back to our enchanted transport.
Our walk back to the bus is quiet, contemplative.
Once we get inside and settled, the Prince pulls out his phone. “We’re ready to head to the capital. Come immediately.” His voice is steady, hiding the undercurrent of urgency that has settled in all our bones.
Within moments, the obsequious supe is climbing the stairs and in the seat.
The engine roars to life, and the bus lurches forward, leaving the cavern and its cryptic whispers behind.
Outside, the countryside rolls past the windows, a cascade of oranges, reds, and golds painting a picture of Autumn Hollow’s approach.
The city, an autumnally glittery marvel, awaits us with its secrets nestled among the falling leaves and the crisp promise of adventure.
“Here’s to finding the damn artifact without anyone dying,” I say, more to myself than the others.
That’s the least we can hope for, right?