Liona clutched the sword-shaped key tightly as she descended the winding stone staircase. Four Imperial guards followed closely behind her, their expressions betraying unease.
"Princess," Captain Thorne said from just behind her right shoulder, "are you certain this is wise? These lower levels haven’t been accessed in years."
"My mother’s instructions were clear," Liona replied without breaking stride. Her voice echoed in the narrow passage, bouncing back at them. "The Ambrose vault is at the bottom of these stairs."
"The Ambrose vault?" Another guard whispered, his voice tense. "I thought that was just a story."
Liona didn’t bother correcting him. Let them think what they would. The truth, as her mother had explained in her hastily written instructions, was both simpler and complex than palace rumors suggested.
The staircase seed to go on forever, spiraling down into darkness. The air grew colder with each step, carrying a musty scent. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of walking, they reached a small landing fronted by a massive door.
It was a spectacular piece of craftsmanship. Solid steel inlaid with intricate patterns of gold with the Ambrose Crest in the middle of the door. At its center was a small keyhole shaped exactly like the key Liona held.
"Stand back," she instructed the guards, stepping forward alone.
The key slid into the lock with surprising ease, as if welcoming her. She turned it, expecting resistance from chanisms long unused, but it rotated smoothly. There was a series of soft clicks as ancient tumblers engaged, and then the door swung inward without a sound, revealing a chamber beyond.
Liona hesitated at the threshold. "Two of you remain here," she ordered. "Captain Thorne and Sergeant Kell will accompany inside."
The chamber was larger than she had expected, its high ceiling disappearing into shadows beyond the reach of their torchlight. Unlike the bare stone of the passage, the vault’s walls were lined with polished marble.
At the center of the room stood a large ornate chest, crafted from so dark wood and bound with bands of a tal that glead like silver. To the right of the chest, were two swords.
"Sunfire and Luna," Liona whispered, recalling the descriptions from the note her mother left. The legendary blades of Caius Van Ambrose.
She approached the chest first, reaching out to trace the intricate carvings on its surface. There was no visible lock, but when she attempted to lift the lid, it remained firmly shut.
"Perhaps there’s another key?" Captain Thorne suggested, stepping closer to examine the chest.
Liona shook her head. "My mother ntioned only one key in her instructions." She turned her attention to the swords.
She moved toward Sunfire. As she reached out to touch it, she felt a strange resistance in the air, as if so invisible barrier prevented her from making contact. She pushed her hand forward more firmly, but the resistance only increased.
"Odd," she murmured, stepping back. "Captain, see if you can reach the sword."
Captain Thorne stepped forward confidently. "Of course, Princess." He reached for Sunfire’s hilt without hesitation.
The mont his fingers ca within inches of the blade, there was a blinding flash of light and a terrible scream. The tal gauntlet on Thorne’s hand turned cherry red in an instant, the fine steel plates warping and fusing together. The leather beneath ignited, and as he frantically tried to rip the gauntlet off, his skin adhered to the superheated tal. Thorne staggered backward, clutching his wrist and howling in agony. The flesh of his palm and fingers was blistering rapidly, the skin bubbling and sloughing off to reveal raw at beneath.
"Get back!" Liona cried. Despite standing closer to the sword than Thorne had been, Liona felt nothing. No heat, no burning pain.
"Sergeant, take him back up imdiately," she ordered. "Have the royal physician attend to him at once."
As Kell helped the moaning captain toward the door, Liona turned back to the swords, her mind racing. She had been able to approach Sunfire without harm, had even tried to touch it, but so force had prevented her from making contact. Yet when Thorne attempted the sa, the sword had burned him severely without him even touching it.
What did it an? What was different about her?
The distant echo of footsteps told her that Kell and Thorne had begun their ascent back to the palace. Now alone in the vault, Liona made a careful circuit of the room, studying the inscriptions she found on the wall. Most remained indecipherable, but fragnts here and there beca clear enough to piece together a partial understanding.
"Blood recognizes blood," she read aloud, her fingers tracing the ancient characters.
A bloodline test? That wouldn’t explain why Thorne was burned while she remained unhard. She wasn’t an Ambrose; she was of the royal Moren line, her mother’s lineage. As she turned around she noticed sothing on the ground.
She noticed what looked like ash on the floor, but she thought nothing of it as she made her way out. But sothing made her look again. The ash seed to have ford a pattern.
Soone else had been here. Recently.
Liona’s eyes darted around the chamber, suddenly alert to any sign of an intruder. But the vault remained silent and still, offering no explanation for the mysterious ash. Had soone accessed this sealed chamber without a key? It should have been impossible.
Her mother had sent her here for a reason, but that reason now seed more complex and potentially dangerous than she had initially assud. There were secrets within secrets here, layers of mystery that extended far beyond a simple family heirloom.
"Blood recognizes blood," she repeated softly to herself as she began the long climb back up the winding staircase. The phrase echoed in her mind, raising questions she wasn’t sure she wanted answered. What connection did her bloodline have to the legendary Ambrose family? And if she was recognized by the swords but unable to wield them, what did that suggest about her heritage?
Reviews
All reviews (0)