The Descendants of Magic The Underground Replica (Rewritten)

Chapter thirty

The Underground Replica

The following week, Elizabeth and her friends found themselves confined within their seashell house, with their activities limited to reading newspapers from years past and conversing about the Election Campaign, as if that was the only thing they had ever cared about. Elizabeth experienced unprecedented boredom during this tedious period. Her legs grew numb after sitting in the sa position on the sofa for three hours, repeatedly listening to the sa radio broadcast and contemplating her dreams from ti to ti.

Straightening up, Elizabeth strode off to her bedroom and planned to have a nice, restful nap. She withdrew the curtains around her bed and rummaged through her pockets for the pocket watch, trying to examine it.

Upon retrieving the watch, though, she nearly loosened her grip in a startle. A massive spider was sprawled across its delicate surface, with several chalk-white spots blending into its black body. To Elizabeth, it appeared quite poisonous, but thankfully, it was motionless at the mont.

With her hands trembling, Elizabeth wiped it with her napkin, tossed it away in disgust, and reached for her watch a second ti. The minute she had it in her hands, Elizabeth let out a scream of pain.

The watch was blazing with heat, and the scar on her palms seared with pain again. The scorching heat waves billowed out rcilessly, surging straight toward her.

Then quietly drifted and lingered through every corner of the room. The intake of air blazed hot the instant it touched her lungs.

"Elizabeth?" called an anxious voice as she quickly slipped the watch into her pocket, hiding it just as the curtain parted a bit. Percy was standing there, and Emily was nearby, her finger trailing down the spine of a thick, yellowed to.

"You good?" Percy asked gently. He turned gadually to Emily.

"Find anything?"

"Hey, Elizabeth, are you tired?" asked Emily briskly through her spectacles, which were now glimring brightly in front of her dreamy blue eyes.

"I’m fine. What are you guys looking for?" Elizabeth asked, curiosity creeping in.

"You know about Dolores the Evil, right? Well, turns out she’s the only one who can unlock the power of the jewels we’re hunting down," Percy snapped. He sipped his orange juice and looked up, waiting for Penelope to read.

“It’s said she can open the door to Grekheim—"

"—and she can pull things from her dreams, and that stuff leaves marks that can’t co off," Emily jumped in, her eyes sparkling with excitent. Elizabeth's hands trembled in her inner pocket, her heart pounding with excitent.

She couldn't stop thinking that perhaps she was the descendant.

If she were, it would explain the dream and the white-hot pocket watch in her pocket.

She didn't forget the words shining inside the watch, her true heritage, her true self.

Who was she?

Where did she co from?

What had she been through that she couldn't recall?

"—and she had these stunning black eagle wings—she’s the only double-soulblender in Alfheim—she can heal herself—”

The enthusiasm rising inside Elizabeth was suddenly extinguished by a downpour.

Everyone knew she was the only soulblender without a pair of eagle wings, and what the heck did a double-soulblender an?

Sighing, Elizabeth took the thing she was rummaging for from her inner pocket and placed it neatly on her nightstand. Except that it was not her pocket watch she had taken out, but sothing else.

"The painting of the missing infant?" shrieked Penelope in disbelief. “How co you get it?”

"What painting—" gaped Elizabeth, her heart leaping.

Then, she stopped dead, her hands shaking, the painting in the chamber, the old legend…

"What happened?" asked Percy, leaning forward.

"The legend of Dolores the Evil." Gaped Penelope.

Percy jumped back in horror, clutching his chest.

He asked in a quivering voice, “How on earth, hell, how could it ever be possible?”

Elizabeth leaned in closer to her friends, her excitent bubbling over as she recounted Josephine's eerie warning. The dim light of the room flickered as she spoke, catching their rapt attention.

“You won’t believe what happened with that painting,” she started, her voice barely above a whisper as if the walls themselves were listening.

But then, just as she was about to dive into the wild tale of being literally yanked into the canvas, her words caught in her throat. She opened her mouth, a rush of thoughts swirling in her mind, but sohow, the words stayed lodged there, refusing to co out.

She felt a strange mix of anticipation and dread, her heart racing as she glanced at her friends, who seed completely absorbed in their own chatter. They were laughing, oblivious to the storm brewing inside her. It was almost a relief—they were too caught up in their own banter to notice her sudden panic.

She could feel the weight of her secret pressing down on her, an urge to share it fighting against the fear of sounding foolish. With a slight chuckle, she managed to ease back into the conversation, keeping the bizarre incident locked away for just a little while longer.

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"Well, that must an—" Percy began, his eyes alight with the thrill of a new revelation.

"Dolores the Evil is hidden among us, right here in Alfheim! We have to find her. Only she can be sucked into the painting and figure out what happened to her long ago," Emily declared emphatically, his gaze fixed intently on the painting, studying the features of the baby depicted within. Elizabeth's thoughts scattered.

She was the one who had been sucked into that painting! No way—Emily must have gotten it all wrong. Before she could spiral further into her thoughts, Percy’s voice snapped her back to reality.

"You ntioned Joanna was buried deep in a pit, right?"

"Yeah," Elizabeth replied briskly, crossing her arms. "So what?"

Percy’s face lit up with a fresh idea. "That pit, it’s gotta be where the Yggdrasil grew—the Ginnunga,” he added, glancing up as if the answer was written in the sky.

“What about it?” Elizabeth asked, furrowing her brow.

"No one dies inside Ginnunga, so that ans—" Emily interjected, her eyes sparkling behind her spectacles, the realization hitting her slowly.

“—Joanna the Great is still alive!" she finished, her excitent bubbling over.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” A voice drifted in from behind them, sending chills down Elizabeth's spine.

It was Veronica de Angelo, standing there with an air of mystery. Beside her was another slender woman with wide, curious eyes that seed to dart between them.

"What's up?" Elizabeth asked, her voice breaking the tension in the air.

"The election, rember," Veronica replied, her voice smooth and lodic. "It shall begin in three hours." With an enigmatic smile, she gestured toward a grand figure looming behind her.

"Well, this is Narcissus Teresa, and she shall take you to the Ethereal House. Good luck." Just as Elizabeth was about to take a step forward, Veronica seized her sleeve and leaned in close, urgency flashing in her eyes.

"Josephine is on our side," she whispered, her voice sharp and crisp, before vanishing into a burst of dazzling light.

The telephone rang in the stillness of the room, its sharp trill piercing through the quiet air.

Penelope felt a flutter of urgency as she pushed herself off the couch, the cushions releasing her with a soft sigh. She made her way to the phone, the old carpet muffling her hurried steps. With a quick motion, she picked up the receiver, her heart racing slightly with anticipation.

At first, an unfamiliar, shrill voice echoed in her ear, filled with a desperate urgency that made her skin prickle.

“—Or it’ll be too late—”

The words were a jumble, barely intelligible, leaving her montarily taken aback.

Then, the voice transford; it llowed, becoming the warm, familiar cadence of Datura’s speech.

“Hey, darling, have you made my coffee yet? I’d love a latte with just a little bit of sweetness, and make it nice and hot!”

There was sothing comforting in the way she drew out ‘darling’, but it was quickly overshadowed by the monotony of yet another drink request. With an exhausted sigh, Penelope hung up the phone and leaned against the wall, feeling the weight of the mont press down on her.

Two weeks of this—two weeks of being at Datura's beck and call, all Datura had her do was ordering drinks and carefully pouring in the right amount of sugar—not exactly the thrilling life of a Top Official in the Nonblender Kingdom, was it?

She pushed herself off the wall, the heaviness in her chest growing like a stone as she headed toward the kitchen.

Was this really what saving the Nonblender Kingdom looked like?

If the world was truly in danger, why wasn’t she out there, strategizing or negotiating instead of worrying about the sugar content in Datura's cappuccino?

She often found herself wondering if other Top Officials were out there battling evil, facing down dragons, or at least engaging in so kind of epic quest, while she was stuck behind a counter, trying not to spill anything. Sure, Datura sotis gave her a sneak peek into the office, just a quick glimpse of what was supposed to be a whirlwind of chaos and excitent.

Other tis, it felt like she was on the outside looking in, locked out with nothing but her thoughts and the muffled sounds of a world she so desperately wanted to save. As she stepped out of her room, she couldn't help but feel a bit ridiculous. Was this her contribution to the kingdom's safety? Was this how legends were born? Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Penelope rolled her eyes, grumbling to herself about the dramatic weather matching her mood. With a huff, she banged the door shut behind her.

What was she even doing here?

Was this really what her life had co to?

Was there any way things could possibly get more ridiculous?

Emily, eyes wide with curiosity, asked, "So, how on earth are we gonna get there?” Narcissus rely offered a mysterious smile, raising her hand to her lips as she blew a piercing whistle.

At that mont, the ground beneath them quaked and split open, revealing a dark, gaping tunnel that plunged deep into the earth.

Suddenly, a rush of frigid wind shot upward, propelling them down, swirling in a chaotic spiral until they tumbled into the abyss.

Eventually, Elizabeth ca to a halt at the bottom of the chasm, her breath hitched in disbelief as she rubbed her throbbing wrist.

She blinked rapidly, adjusting to the dim light around her. They had landed in a subterranean realm that felt as if it belonged to a sprawling mansion, its walls built of tiworn stone and draped in cobwebs. Narcissus beckoned them forward, leading to an imposing oak door, intricately carved and sturdy, where a majestic phoenix awaited, its feathers shimring in a dazzling array of colors.

"The Election, my dear," she said, her voice patient yet filled with an undercurrent of urgency, as the phoenix unfurled its wings, stepping aside with a graceful flapping.

As the door swung open with a resounding bang, the chamber that lay beyond was nothing short of a fantastical spectacle.

Eccentric treasures adorned the ceiling, clinking together in a lodious dance as a gentle breeze swept through the space. At the heart of the room stood a conic stone pedestal, encased in a fragile glass do that sparkled like morning dew. With a deliberate motion, Narcissus tapped the glass, and it lted away as if it were made of liquid light.

She grasped an odd-looking stick—its surface etched with intricate symbols—and struck it against the stone. A blaze of purple light erupted, illuminating the chamber in a surreal glow, casting long shadows that wavered in the tremor of magic.

The stone carvings began to vibrate, a soft tremor at first that was easy to overlook.

But soon, the stone erupted into a cacophony of fragnts, dissolving into shimring mist that swirled in the air. Amidst the swirling vapor, an exquisite, enchanting miniature model of the Ethereal House erged, its delicate architecture glimring in the enchanting light.

Each part of the palace had been carefully engraved in crystal, from the highest Astrology Tower to the secret chambers. Squinting inside, Elizabeth found the marble staircases and personal offices shone with a violet glow. Stripes of gold glittered over the mattresses, blanketing the columns, which Elizabeth realized only seconds later as sunlight.

She easily located the shifting staircase that had once guided her to the secret chambers, yet now a large golden door without a doorknob stood in its place, blocking any further descent.

The dorm she had seen before was deep underground, inside a rather creepy cave she had once set foot into. Though the other end of the cave she didn’t seem to notice before was narrower and darker, as if leading to so secret chambers that might hold the secrets of Alfheim, the thoughts gave Elizabeth a shiver running down her spine.

The only difference was that there was absolutely no life in this sculpture.

"Teresa, what the heck is—" Elizabeth muttered cautiously.

Yet seconds later, she stopped abruptly.

Narcissus Teresa had disappeared without a trace.

"Teresa? Where are you?"

"I'm here, don't worry about .” Ca a small voice from the inside of the sculpture.

Elizabeth jumped back in horror.

Her breath caught in her throat.