We stepped out of that cramped passage into a ruined chamber where every breath felt heavy. I can still feel the medallion's faint pulse echoing with my own heartbeat as we crossed the threshold. The room was vast yet empty—a space filled with drifting dust and dim, almost blood-like, red light that barely pushed back the dark.
Mira's beautiful arms were wrapped around me tighter than ever. I felt her trembling, her heartbeat quick and pained as she clutched me close. Though she never spoke much, her silent grief was louder than any words could be. I could almost hear the unspoken prayer of a mother desperate to keep her child safe from the legacy of our cursed blood.
Lucien led us further into the chamber. I watched him carefully kneeling by a pile of rubble, his strong, calloused fingers moving slowly as he brushed away dust from a shattered pillar. His gaze was fixed on something hidden beneath the debris, his dark eyes hard and determined.
Beside him, Charlotte moved with a careful, almost reluctant grace. I noticed the way she paused at every mound of broken stone, her face set in a mixture of pain and determination. It was as if she was searching not just for clues but for some kind of redemption that might wash away the guilt she carried.
After a few long, silent moments, Lucien's fingers brushed against something cold and oddly familiar. Half-buried in the rubble lay another small medallion. I watched as he lifted it gently, his touch careful as if handling something cursed or sacred. The relic was small and rune-etched, its surface a mix of hard, cold stone and a strange warmth—almost as if a trace of blood still seeped through its grooves. I couldn't see it clearly, but I felt its energy radiate in a way that set my tiny heart racing.
The silence in the room broke suddenly when Mira's voice cut through the heavy air. "This relic is clearly the mark of failures of the Redthorns, something that shouldn't have been inherited by us", her tone raw with anger. The sound of her voice reverberated against the stone, and I could feel the tension spike in the space around us.
"But in any case we must use it. Without it, we cannot mend the curse." His words were firm, his tone leaving no space for doubt. I saw a flicker of pain in his eyes as he spoke—an emotion he tried so hard to hide behind his stoic expression. There was no room for hope in his reply, only a resigned acceptance of the terrible truth we faced.
Charlotte's gaze shifted between Mira and Lucien. I could tell she was struggling internally. In that moment, I felt something stir deep within me—a message that only I could see. It flashed in my mind like cold, hard light:
[Fragment found. The lost covenant is key to mending the vessel. Its power demands sacrifice.]
Another sacrifice?
The three of them stood there, caught in a moment of charged silence. Lucien carefully wrapped the medallion in a piece of worn cloth, his movements so precise that even the soft murmur of the ancient room seemed to hold its breath. As he tucked it away, I could almost see the pulse of its dark energy merge with the beat of my own heart.
But then, without warning, the ground beneath us started to tremble. The stone floor quivered, and a low rumble filled the chamber. Dust fell from the ceiling in a slow, drifting dance as the whole room seemed to shudder under an unseen force. In that moment, a hidden door in the far wall slammed open with a sound so sudden it made us all jump.
The door revealed a dark passage—a narrow, corridor that stretched deep into the heart of the ruined estate. Mira's grip on me tightened even further; I could feel her panic as her eyes widened, reflecting both terror and a reluctant acceptance of what lay ahead. Lucien took a step forward, his jaw set and his eyes scanning the new opening with unwavering focus. Even Charlotte, with her arm throbbing in pain, straightened up and looked toward the dark passage with a determined set to her face.
For a long moment, we all stood at the threshold, the medallion's glow flickering faintly in the palm of Charlotte's hand. Every sound—our slow, heavy breathing, the distant echo of falling stone—seemed to emphasize the significance of this moment. The relic pulsed once more, its rhythm steady and unyielding, as if urging us to move forward despite the fear that coiled in our bellies.
I felt that message again deep inside me, clear as a bell:
[The oath is shattered. The path ahead is yours to choose.]
Lucien stepped forward first, the medallion tucked safely against the folds of his cloak. His sword hung at his side, ready for any threat that might emerge from the darkness. Charlotte, despite the obvious pain in her slow, careful movements, followed close behind him. Mira clutched me with both arms, her eyes not leaving mine for even a second. Every glance, every tiny shift in her expression, told a story of loss and of hope—a hope that felt as fragile as the dust swirling around us.
The dark passage before us was a silent dare. With no other option, we began to move forward. Every step echoed off the cold stone, mingling with the soft, almost imperceptible pulse of the medallion.
And then, as if the ancient stones themselves were alive, the passage began to change. The walls grew narrower, the air colder, and the inscriptions on the stone became more pronounced, as if trying to tell us a story we had long forgotten. I felt the medallion's pulse quicken in Charlotte's hand, its rhythm now matching the anxious beats of my own heart.
Mira's voice broke the silence again, shaky and raw. "Lucien..." Her voice were soft, yet they carried the force of sorrow and regret.
Lucien's response was quiet, almost as if he were speaking to the walls rather than to her. "No matter what has happened here, we cannot let a past stop us from moving forward." His tone was cold, lacking any comfort, as if every word was weighed down by the inevitable sacrifices that lay ahead.
[Fragment found. The lost covenant is key to mending the vessel. Its power demands sacrifice.]
The passage led us into another small chamber, even more desolate than the last. Here, broken relics lay scattered on the cold stone floor. Pieces of shattered pottery, half-crumbled tablets with faded inscriptions, and fragments of other medallions were strewn about like remnants of lost promises. It was a graveyard of memories—a physical echo of every failure and every sacrifice made by those who had come before us.
I watched as Lucien stopped at a large stone slab, his eyes scanning the worn carvings with a look that was both respectful and determined. Charlotte moved to stand beside him, still clutching the small medallion as if it were a fragile hope. Mira stayed close, her eyes not leaving mine, silently pleading for something I could not give.
Before we could gather our thoughts, the chamber trembled violently once more. The stone beneath our feet shook as if protesting the burden we carried. In a heartbeat, the floor split open with a grinding sound, and a hidden door burst from the wall with a force that knocked the breath from us all. The door revealed another dark passage, deeper and more foreboding than the last.
Lucien was the first to break the silence. His voice was low and resolute, barely above a whisper yet carrying an unyielding command. "We go through," he said, his eyes fixed on the dark passage as if he could see the fate that awaited us. There was no debate in his tone—only the stark necessity of the journey ahead.
The door closed behind us with a resounding thud that seemed to echo our uncertain future. The corridor was narrow and cold, the stone walls lined with more faded inscriptions and shadows that danced in the flickering light.
Lucien's eyes were hard as he scanned the dark passage ahead, his grip on his sword firm and unwavering. Charlotte's face was pale but determined, her injured arm still trembling as she clutched the medallion. Mira's eyes, filled with both anguish and fierce protectiveness, met mine for a split second—a silent vow that she would keep me safe no matter what happened next.