Smoke clung to the air like a ghost that refused to leave.
Ironveil was silent now — no more screams, no more churning gears, only the hiss of molten metal cooling under dawn's pale light.
After the search they decided to destroy the library so the phoenix's research will all be gone.
The Outlaws stood amid the wreckage, covered in ash and exhaustion. Mira leaned against a broken pillar, wiping blood from her cheek. "Well… that could've gone worse."
Cass coughed into his sleeve. "Could've gone better too. I almost lost my eyebrows."
Lynx shot him a look. "You didn't lose anything that wasn't already singed."
Rowan didn't join the banter. His eyes were locked on the smoldering ruin of Vayne's workshop — where, beneath the wreckage, something faintly glowed.
A faint golden pulse. Like a heartbeat.
He stepped forward. "There's something still active."
Mira frowned. "Impossible. The mana core's fried. Nothing should be running after that blast."
"Tell that to the light show," Cass muttered, raising his rifle warily.
Rowan brushed away debris until his fingers touched something cold and smooth — metal, but… wrong. It hummed faintly beneath his hand, alive with restrained power.
He pulled, and a small iron chest emerged — perfectly intact despite the explosion. Not a single scratch marred its surface.
It was about the size of a helmet, etched with intricate glyphs that shimmered faintly when exposed to the air. Across its top, seven circular indentations glowed faintly, each filled with a rune of different color.
Cass whistled low. "Okay, that's either treasure or instant death."
Lynx crouched beside it, her ears twitching. "There's no mana signature. It's sealed by something older than crystals."
Rowan turned the box over carefully — on the bottom, faint words were carved in an ancient tongue. He traced his fingers over them, and the runes flared to life.
Mira's eyes widened. "That language… I've only seen it in old rebellion records. It predates the Phoenix era."
"What does it say?" Rowan asked.
She squinted, reading slowly. "Seven seals. One truth. When the crowns fall, the flame awakens."
Cass blinked. "That sounds super cursed. I'm voting we bury it."
Rowan ignored him and examined the seven runes again. Each one bore a different crest — detailed and unmistakable.
A lion with a blade in its mouth.
A serpent wrapped around a chalice.
A wolf beneath a crescent moon.
A stag crowned in gold.
A raven clutching chains.
A rose set aflame.
And last — a blazing phoenix.
Mira stepped closer, voice dropping. "Those… those are the crests of the seven noble houses."
Lynx frowned. "Including the royal one."
Cass blinked. "So what — the box belongs to the king?"
"No," Rowan said quietly. "It belongs to the people they destroyed to build this empire."
He set the box on a cracked table, its glow reflecting off his pale eyes. "This thing survived an explosion that leveled half a manor. That means it's not made of steel — it's made of mana-binding alloy. Maybe even divine-grade."
Mira nodded grimly. "Only one group ever forged such things. The first generation of the Phoenix council — the ones who sealed forbidden knowledge away after the rebellion."
Cass leaned in. "You think this has something to do with your dad?"
Rowan's jaw tightened. "I don't think. I know."
The name Ainsworth wasn't on the box — but in its reflection, he could almost see his father's symbol carved faintly under the ash.
Mira crossed her arms. "If that box holds the truth about the rebellion… it's not going to open easily."
Rowan turned it over again, searching for a latch, a keyhole, anything. But there was none — only those seven glowing crests.
Lynx tapped one carefully with her claw. It flashed briefly, then went dark again. "They're sealed individually. Seven locks. Seven houses."
"So… what, we collect noble heads until it opens?" Cass asked half-jokingly.
Mira didn't laugh. "Actually… yes."
Cass blinked. "Wait, that was a joke—"
Mira pointed to the glyphs. "The language says when the crowns fall, the flame awakens. It's not a metaphor. The seals are bound to the bloodlines of the nobles. Their mana signatures keep the box closed. To unlock it, those signatures must be erased."
Rowan frowned. "Erased as in…?"
"Dead," Mira said simply. "Or stripped of power."
Silence filled the room.
The flames outside crackled softly, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Cass exhaled slowly. "You're saying… we have to take down all seven noble families. Just to open this stupid box."
Lynx's voice was steady but low. "Each family controls an army, a territory, and the empire's mana supply. That's not just suicide — that's war."
Rowan ran his thumb along the edge of the box, watching the faint golden light reflect in his eyes. "Then so be it."
Mira stared at him. "You realize what you're saying?"
Rowan nodded. "The Phoenix Family started this. But this box — whatever's inside it — it's connected to everything. My father, the rebellion, the divine mana. Maybe even the gods themselves."
He looked at each of them in turn. "If the truth's locked behind seven crowns, then we'll just have to burn them all."
Cass groaned. "Bro, you make that sound way too cool for something that's gonna get us killed."
Lynx's tail flicked. "When do we start?"
Rowan glanced at the box one last time, then covered it with a cloth. "Tonight. Mira — which of the seven is closest?"
She hesitated, then pulled out a tattered map from her satchel. "Lord Halden of Greyspire. He controls the northern mines and supplies mana crystals to the Phoenix army. Cruel man. Paranoid. Perfect for a first target."
Cass whistled. "Great. Love starting with the rich psycho."
Rowan smirked faintly. "We've faced worse."
As dawn broke over the valley, the Outlaws prepared to leave Ironveil behind. The sky bled red with sunrise, reflecting off the metallic dust in the air.
Rowan strapped the sealed box onto the wagon, covering it with old canvas. Even through the fabric, he could still feel its pulse — slow, steady, patient. Like it was waiting.
Mira mounted her horse, glancing back at the ruins. "If the nobles find out what you're holding, the entire capital will come for you."
Rowan adjusted his revolver, his voice calm. "Then they'll just have to catch me first."
Cass grinned, kicking the reins. "To Greyspire, then. First crown's coming down."
Lynx's ears twitched, catching the distant rumble of thunder. "Storm's coming."
Rowan looked toward the horizon — where seven kingdoms awaited, their banners rising like vultures above the world.
"Good," he said softly. "Let them hear the Outlaws are coming."
The wagon rolled out of the valley, dust rising in their wake.
Behind them, the indestructible box glowed faintly beneath its cover — as if smiling.
The first seal had yet to break.
But the fire had already begun.