Contrary to what I had imagined, the secret chamber was empty. No stacks of ancient scrolls. No relics whispering of time.
Just a single table. And on it, a large book with a wooden cover, sealed shut with a lock.
Yet the air was thick with ancient dread. The moss-covered walls seemed to whisper in forgotten tongues, each crack running down the stone like lightning frozen in time. The damp and musty scent clawed into my lungs, forcing a cough out of me.
I covered my nose to fight the nausea creeping up my throat.
"Apologies. I haven't stepped foot in here for a long time."
Rorden said casually, placing the candle on the table. From his pocket, he produced a key strung on a thin chain. He held it up between two fingers, letting it dangle in front of my face as if to hypnotize me.
"Will you?"
