Dawn in Seravelle wasn't light—it was a shade of ash.
Between the mist, the smoke, and the subtle panic weaving through the city's veins, something began to shift. Not loud. Not visible. But the ones who listened closely—those who heard between heartbeats—felt it: the weight in the air, the silence in the alleys, and the soft hum in the cracks of old stone.
Kaelen walked deeper.
They had found the hidden passage behind the broken lion statue, three levels below the old Quarter of Judges. It shouldn't have existed. No official map had it. And yet, there it was—an ancient stone door with no keyhole, only a symbol carved in long-forgotten script.
Elaine followed close behind. Her sword hand was steady, but her eyes were wary. She didn't speak—not from fear, but focus.
When Kaelen placed his palm on the seal, the temperature dropped like a snapped thread. The stone turned cold. And then—
Whispers.
> "Return the crownless. Raise the forgotten."
The door groaned open, not by force—but by recognition.
The Vault of the Sealed Heir.
A chamber not even the royal bloodkeepers acknowledged. A place written not in ink, but in curses and crimson.
Every pillar held a name.
A crest.
A verdict.
Some were crossed out. Others cracked down the middle.
But one—near the farthest end—was half-lit.
Kaelen stepped forward, his heartbeat slowing as he read the inscription carved beneath the ancient crest:
> Lyrielle.
Elaine murmured, "A girl's name?"
Kaelen nodded. "The second heir. The one they erased."
As he spoke the name aloud, the runes on the stone flared—and then shattered.
Light flooded the chamber. Not from the torches, but from the wall itself.
A figure emerged—not from stone or shadow, but from time.
A girl, no older than sixteen. Snow-white hair, golden eyes, and ceremonial robes that shimmered like they belonged to a long-dead empire. Around her neck hung a shard of a shattered crown.
She gasped—like someone waking from a dream too deep to escape.
Kaelen stepped forward.
"Lyrielle?"
She looked up. Her voice was hoarse but steady.
> "The throne… is no longer where it was."
Elaine grabbed Kaelen's arm. "This isn't natural. No one survives centuries in… whatever this is."
Lyrielle stood tall. "I'm not someone anymore. Not fully."
She reached toward the blood seal on the wall—
And the entire vault trembled.
"I was the first one they buried," she said. "The first to be sacrificed so the succession could continue. And the first they couldn't kill."
Kaelen's voice was low. "Why not?"
Lyrielle met his gaze. "Because my blood didn't just create queens.
A deep gong echoed through the floor.
Elaine cursed under her breath. "What was that?"
Lyrielle turned. Her expression hardened. "A sentinel. Something ancient just felt me return. And it's coming to break the oath again."
Kaelen unsheathed his blade. "Then we're no longer seekers."
Lyrielle's eyes shimmered, and golden veins lit up across her skin like living runes.
> "We are the memory of a crown that should never have been forged."
Then—
The stone door exploded inward.
A figure cloaked in darkness entered.
Not a man. Not a beast.
Something bound.
Something that remembered the First Pact.
Kaelen stepped forward, blade ready. Elaine moved with him.
But Lyrielle did not flinch. She whispered—
> "If we don't fight now, there will never be a throne for the rightful ones."