The iron clasps released with a groan that echoed through the chamber. The lid creaked open, and a rush of stale air seeped out, carrying with it a scent of damp stone and long-buried secrets.
Inside the chest lay no jewels, no relics, only two objects. One, a dagger of blackened steel, its hilt wrapped in frayed crimson cloth. The other, a scroll sealed with wax, stamped with the Blackthorne crest.
The courtiers leaned forward, whispers rising like a tide.
Liora's pulse quickened. The dagger radiated menace, but the scroll… the scroll felt heavier, though it weighed nothing at all.
Lilian's voice rang sharp from her throne. "One must claim the blade. The other, the truth. Decide quickly. The chamber will not wait."
Even as she spoke, the torches flared, and the floor beneath them trembled. Carved runes on the stone walls began to glow faintly, as if awakening.
