Mira stayed put, arms wrapped tight around me. I felt her emotions rolling through the resonance—fear, doubt, determination all mixing together. Finally, she let out a breath and loosened her grip slightly. "We'll figure this out."
We started down moments later. Each step made the air colder, the estate shifting under our feet. Floorboards creaked, walls groaned—reminders that this place was alive in ways we couldn't understand. Mira kept me close, her warmth fighting the chill. Charlotte moved ahead with fluid steps while Lucien led us, commanding even in silence.
The lower levels swallowed the light from above. Instead, a faint glow came from the walls themselves. Sigils carved into stone flickered, their jagged patterns pulsing like a heartbeat.
"This doesn't feel right," Mira muttered, pulling me tighter.
Lucien paused at the archive entrance, hand resting on the doorframe. He didn't look back. "It never does."
The archives were massive—towering shelves packed with books, scrolls, artifacts that hummed with energy. The air was thick, heavy with centuries of secrets. Mira hesitated at the threshold, scanning the room with wary eyes.
Charlotte moved first, walking to a table in the center. Her gaze swept the shelves, brow furrowed. "Where do we start?"
Lucien stepped forward, eyes narrowing at the wall sigils. "We start with Redthorn. If the pact was ever documented, it's here."
Mira's frown deepened. I felt the tension in her body as she shifted me in her arms. "And if it's not?"
"Then we find another way." Lucien's tone was flat.
The tension between them was thick enough to cut. Every exchange felt like they were walking on broken glass, each word chosen carefully to avoid saying what they really meant.
Charlotte joined him at a thick leather tome that looked older than the estate itself. "This one." She slid it onto the table. The sigil on its cover shimmered, edges sharp and uneven.
Lucien opened it carefully. The pages were brittle, covered in text and symbols that seemed to shift under the dim light. His fingers moved over the lines with practiced precision.
"This language..." Charlotte leaned closer, frowning. "It's not just Redthorn. There's something else here."
"Valthys," Lucien said quietly.
The room reacted. Temperature dropped. Wall sigils pulsed brighter. Mira stiffened, breathing too controlled.
"What does it say?" Her tone was sharp.
Lucien's jaw tightened as he scanned the text. After a moment: "The pact wasn't completed. Kael Redthorn failed to bind the shard. The energy fractured, tethered itself to the house instead of the intended vessel."
Charlotte's hand moved to her blade. "The shard. That's Valthys?"
"A piece of it."
"What does it want?" Mira's voice was low, clipped.
Lucien hesitated, glanced at me, then back to the book. "Not destruction. Control. It wants to use the house as a gateway, expand beyond this place."
The weight of his words pressed down on us. Mira's arms tightened around me, her fear bleeding through the resonance.
"Lucien." Mira's voice trembled slightly. "If this thing is tied to him, feeding on him... what happens if we fail?"
Lucien's hand went still on the table, knuckles white. "We won't fail." No arrogance in his tone—just cold certainty.
The silence stretched. Charlotte broke it first. "That's not an answer, Lucien. What happens if we fail?"
He turned slowly, meeting her gaze. Something unreadable passed across his face. "Failure isn't an option."
Mira let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "You keep saying that like it's fact. But you're gambling with more than yourself. You're gambling with him."
The words hung heavy. Lucien didn't respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "I know."
That soft admission made Mira pause. Her sharp retort died in her throat. She stared at him like seeing him for the first time.
Charlotte moved closer to the table, studying the book. "The sigils are shifting. The shard is responding."
"To what?" Mira asked.
Lucien glanced at me. "To him. The shard isn't just tethered—it's aware. It's reacting to his presence."
Mira's grip tightened protectively. "And that doesn't worry you?"
"It does. But it also confirms something. The shard's connection isn't just bloodline—it's intentional. It sees him as an anchor, a way to stabilize itself."
Charlotte's eyes flicked toward me. "What does it want from him?"
Lucien hesitated. In that pause, I felt the weight of his answer before he spoke. "Control. It's not trying to destroy him or the house. It wants to use him as a gateway to extend its influence."
The words cut through the room like a blade. Mira's breath hitched. Her fear spiked through the resonance, but she didn't speak. Her silence was loud enough.
Charlotte's jaw tightened, hands curling into fists. "If that's true, fragmenting the shard might not be enough. We'd have to sever the tether completely."
"How?" Mira demanded. "Because I'm not letting anything use him as some kind of gateway."
Lucien's expression hardened. He looked back at the book. "We find the original pact. The sigils suggest it was left incomplete when Kael Redthorn failed. If we can figure out where it broke, we can repair it—or destroy it entirely."
Mira exhaled slowly, fingers brushing through my hair. "And if we can't?"
Lucien's jaw clenched. He didn't look up. "Then we find another way."
---
The walk back felt longer. Each step carried the weight of what we'd uncovered. Mira held me close, movements steady but tense, like she was bracing for an invisible blow.
Charlotte walked ahead, posture rigid, hand near her blade. Lucien led with purposeful but slower strides, his mind clearly working.
When we reached the sitting room, Mira sank into a chair, cradling me like I might vanish. Her silence was thick, gaze fixed on something distant.
Lucien stood by the fireplace, back to us, staring into the unlit hearth. "We'll need time. The sigils are old, but not impossible to decipher. If we can isolate the ones tied to the pact, we'll have a starting point."
"How long?" Mira's voice was sharper than intended.
Lucien didn't turn. "As long as it takes."
Mira sighed in frustration, arms tightening around me. "That's not good enough. You can't just—"
"Mira." His voice was quiet but firm, cutting her off without force. He turned, expression softening slightly. "I know this isn't what you wanted. I know you're scared. But we don't have another option."
For a moment, she looked ready to argue. Then she exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging as fight drained from her. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
Lucien didn't respond. Just nodded, his gaze lingering on her before shifting back to the fireplace.
---
That night, the house felt quieter. The day's revelations pressed down like a physical weight. Mira stayed with me, her presence steady against the growing unease.
She dozed off eventually, hand still resting on me, breathing even. But my thoughts churned. The fragments we'd found, the incomplete pact, the shard's intentions—it was all connected, and I was at the center.
The next morning, Mira was first to wake. She looked down at me, expression torn between exhaustion and determination. "We need to figure this out. No more stalling."
Charlotte was already in the main hall when we joined her, bent over more weathered tomes. She barely glanced up as Mira entered, eyes scanning faded ink with sharp focus.
"There's something here," Charlotte said without preamble, gesturing at symbols on a page. "It's written in an old dialect, not consistent with the other sigils. Could be part of the original pact."
Mira moved closer, still holding me. "What does it say?"
Charlotte tapped an intricate symbol. "It's fragmented, but clear enough. The shard—Valthys—was never meant to be fully contained. Kael Redthorn's pact was incomplete from the start. This wasn't failure—it was deliberate."
Lucien appeared from the doorway, expression grim. "Deliberate? You're saying Kael intended this?"
Charlotte shook her head. "Not necessarily. More likely he didn't understand what he was dealing with. The pact required more than blood—it needed an anchor to keep Valthys tethered without giving it full control."
"And that anchor," Lucien said, voice low, "is him." His eyes flicked to me.
Mira's hold tightened, expression fierce. "If that's true, we need to break the tether. Whatever Valthys wants, it won't get it."
Charlotte hesitated. "Breaking it might not be enough. These sigils suggest the shard feeds on everything connected to the estate. The more conflict, fear, and pain it creates—the stronger it becomes."
"So what's the solution?" Mira's patience was wearing thin.
Lucien studied the sigils more carefully. "We need to understand the mechanism first. How exactly is the shard drawing power? Where are the connection points strongest?"
Charlotte traced a line of symbols with her finger. "According to this, the estate has three primary anchor points. The basement where the original ritual was performed, the main hall where the family bloodline converged, and..." She paused, frowning.
"And what?"
"The nursery. Where the heir would be raised." Her eyes met mine briefly. "Where the next generation would be prepared."
The room went silent. I felt Mira's heart rate spike through the resonance.
"So the nursery isn't just where he sleeps," she said slowly. "It's a focal point. The shard has been feeding off him since he was born."
"That explains the intensity of the manifestations there," Lucien said. "The figure, the energy disturbances—they're strongest where the connection is deepest."
Charlotte nodded grimly. "If we're going to sever the tether, we need to disrupt all three anchor points. But doing that could destabilize the entire estate."
"Good," Mira said firmly. "Let it fall down. We'll rebuild somewhere else."
"It's not that simple." Lucien's tone was sharp. "The shard isn't just tied to the building—it's tied to the bloodline. Destroying the estate might just free it to follow us anywhere."
"Then what do you suggest?" Mira's voice was getting tight again, that familiar edge creeping in.
Lucien was quiet for a long moment, studying the ancient text. "We turn the anchor points into traps. Instead of feeding the shard, we make them drain it. Force it to exhaust itself trying to maintain the connection."
"And how exactly do we do that?"
"Counter-sigils. We overlay the existing anchors with reversed patterns. Instead of channeling energy to the shard, they channel energy away from it."
Charlotte looked skeptical. "That's... theoretically possible. But we'd need to understand the original sigils perfectly. One mistake and we could make things worse."
"We don't have a choice," Lucien said. "It's this or we wait for Valthys to gain enough strength to break free on its own."
Mira shifted me in her arms, her movements agitated. "How long do we have?"
"Based on the rate of manifestations? Days, maybe a week." Lucien's honesty was brutal. "The shard is getting stronger. Every time it manifests, every time it feeds on fear or conflict, it gains more power."
"Then we better get started," Charlotte said, closing the book with a decisive snap.
But as they began planning their approach to the anchor points, I couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something crucial. The system hadn't given me any new updates, but I could sense something building—a presence that was watching, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.
Whatever Valthys really wanted, I had the sinking feeling we were about to find out.
---
Hours passed in intense preparation. They mapped out the anchor points, studied counter-sigil patterns, and argued about the safest approach. The tension between Lucien and Mira never fully disappeared, like a low-grade fever that colored every interaction.
"We start with the basement," Lucien decided. "It's the oldest anchor, probably the most stable. If we can establish a working counter-sigil there, we can replicate it at the other points."
"And if it doesn't work?" Mira asked.
"Then we improvise."
Her laugh was sharp, humorless. "Your improvisation got us into this mess."
"My improvisation," Lucien said coldly, "is the only reason we're still alive."
Charlotte stepped between them before the argument could escalate. "Enough. We don't have time for this."
But I could feel the cracks growing deeper. Every revelation, every new piece of the puzzle, drove them further apart instead of bringing them together. The shard was winning, and it wasn't even trying.
It was just letting them destroy themselves.