Perspective: Freya Van Daalen
The chamber that revealed itself before Freya was grand.Grand—and at the same time, macabre.
The space was vast, sustained by towering columns that vanished into the darkness above.The only light came from green torches scattered at strategic points, their spectral flames crackling and casting living shadows that crawled along the walls.
The floor was carved with concentric circles etched in stone, ancient runes and markings filling every line as if telling a forgotten story. At the center of those circles stood what immediately seized Freya's attention:
a massive coffin.
Carved from dark stone, imposing and heavy, it looked as though it had rested there for centuries, sitting upon an equally ornate base. The cold material gleamed faintly under the green torchlight, making its presence all the more ominous—almost as if the air around it grew denser, harder to breathe.
Just behind the coffin, leaning against the wall, was a square slab of stone—simple, almost out of place amid the grandeur. It bore no decorations, yet its central position suggested a deeper purpose, as though it were part of some ritual.
In front of the coffin, opposite the slab, stood a small stone table. Upon it lay fragments of rusted metal, aged scrolls, and remnants of objects that at first glance appeared broken or corroded by time. It looked like an improvised altar—or perhaps an offering table.
And finally, at the edge of sight behind the coffin, rose a massive stone archway. It wasn't a door like the others they'd passed, but rather a wide passage leading into another chamber beyond. The darkness there seemed even deeper, as if waiting for the right moment to swallow whoever dared to cross.
A chill ran down Freya's spine.The chamber's grandeur didn't hide its true purpose.
Everything there—the runes, the torches, the altar, the coffin—spoke the same truth in unison:
this room was built to guard something.
Alessio was the first to step inside.Each movement was careful, shield raised, as if he expected the darkness itself to strike.
Freya had little choice but to follow.The place, for all its majesty and dread, carried a strange stillness. No motion. No sound but the echo of their steps.It felt… dead.
And yet, at the center of the stone circle, the coffin waited.
Freya held her breath as she drew closer.
It was enormous—hewn from a single block of gray stone, aged by time. The edges were cracked, eroded by centuries of dampness, and patches of dry moss still clung to its fissures. Its rough surface dimly reflected the green light, but that wasn't what drew the eye.
On the lid rested five seals, engraved with arcane symbols she didn't recognize.They shimmered with pulsing energy—an intense blend of crimson and gold, like molten fire shaped into runes.
Each seal vibrated with a low, almost inaudible hum—a sound that resonated deep in the chest, as though every heartbeat echoed in response.
The contrast was striking: the coffin itself looked ancient, forsaken in some lifeless tomb—but the seals said otherwise.They were recent. Alive.A barrier forged to contain something that clearly was not meant to be freed.
Freya glanced at Alessio.They didn't need words to share the same thought:
Whatever was sealed inside that coffin was far from ordinary.
Amid the suffocating silence, the two split up.Aslan went toward the stone slab behind the coffin, examining every detail with the precision of a lawyer reviewing evidence.
Freya, meanwhile, approached the small stone table.
At first, there was nothing but yellowed papers covered in strange markings—scribbles to her eyes. Curved lines, distorted runes, symbols that looked more like the ramblings of a mad child than anything meaningful.
She was about to sigh in frustration when something caught her eye—a glimmer.
Subtle, but steady, hidden beneath the pile of papers.
Her eyes narrowed.She didn't hesitate.
Both hands swept the scrolls aside, pushing them off without care. The rough scrape of parchment tearing against stone echoed through the hall until finally—
She saw them.
Two objects were embedded in the surface of the table, as if part of the rock itself:
The first was a grimoire, bound in deep crimson leather adorned with delicate golden filigree at the corners. At its center, a pentagram was encircled by intricate metallic symbols, and in the very middle, a ruby gem pulsed silently—like a heart trapped within the cover.
Beside it lay a golden necklace, woven in an endless knot that seemed to have no beginning and no end. Its simple design contrasted with the grandeur of the book, yet there was something about it—something serene, hypnotic, powerful.
Freya smiled.A wide, satisfied grin—like a child who had finally found the candy hidden in the cupboard.
The items were fused to the stone, as if welded into it.But that didn't stop her.
As her fingers touched them, a vibration ran through her skin. A knowing smile curved her lips—she recognized those artifacts, and they, in turn, seemed to recognize her. In that instant, she knew: she could take them. She had to take them. They were perfect.
"Aslan…" she said aloud, still smiling, green eyes gleaming. "Looks like we won't be needing that contract after all."
She planted her feet, muscles tensing as she gripped both objects.The veins in her arms bulged; the stone groaned in protest.
Then—with a sharp, almost organic crack—they came loose.
The grimoire and the necklace were in her hands now.Free.
She lifted them, marveling at their beauty. The ruby at the grimoire's center flickered, and for a moment she thought the gem on the necklace shimmered as well.
But she didn't have time to think.
"Sith, waaaait!" Aslan's voice tore through the air, thick with urgency.
Before she could react, the ground trembled beneath her feet.The whole world seemed to shudder with the echo of his shout.
And in that instant—the silence of the chamber died.