Chapter 10 The Catacombs

The hunters' torches cast jagged shadows across the castle walls as Elian pressed herself against the cold stone, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The blood moon's crimson glow seeped through the arrow slits, painting the ancient tapestries in shades of rust and dried blood. Somewhere below, the baying of hounds echoed through the vaulted chambers-the Order had come to finish what Seraphina had begun three centuries ago.

Raelith's hand closed around Elian's wrist, his fingers like ice against her feverish skin. "They're here for the ritual," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant shouts. "For you."

She pulled away, glancing toward the chamber where Mira and Jason still huddled. "I won't leave them to-"

"They're not the ones bleeding Seraphina's power," Raelith interrupted. His eyes, nearly black in the dim light, flickered to the pendant fused to her chest. "But you? You they'll carve open without hesitation."

A thunderous crash echoed from the great hall below-wood splintering, iron hinges screaming. The hunters were breaking through the castle's ancient defenses.

The decision crystallized in Elian's chest like frost. She nodded once.

Raelith led her to a tapestry depicting the Night's King and his court, its threads faded with age. Behind it, the wall yielded to his touch, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling into darkness. The air that rushed up to greet them smelled of wet earth and something far older-the metallic tang of old blood, the faintest hint of rotting flowers.

The steps were worn smooth by centuries of use, their centers dipped from the passage of countless feet. Elian trailed her fingers along the rough-hewn wall as they descended, the stone damp beneath her touch. Strange fungi clung to the cracks between stones, their pale blue glow just bright enough to outline the skulls embedded in the walls-some grinning, others shattered, all watching with hollow-eyed judgment.

"They buried their dead down here?" Elian whispered, her voice swallowed by the pressing darkness.

"Not their dead," Raelith corrected. His coat brushed against the walls, stirring up motes of ancient dust. "Ours."

The staircase ended at a rusted iron gate, its bars twisted as if by tremendous force. Beyond it stretched a network of tunnels, their ceilings vaulted like a cathedral's, their walls lined with niches where skeletal figures sat frozen in eternal repose. These weren't haphazard burials-each corpse had been carefully arranged, their bony fingers clutching rusted weapons, their skulls adorned with tarnished silver crowns.

Elian's pendant flared hot against her sternum as they passed a particularly ornate alcove. The skeleton within wore the remnants of a gown, its fabric long since rotted away to reveal ribs stained black with old blood. A silver diadem still clung to its skull, its center set with a familiar crescent moon.

"You recognize her," Raelith observed, not turning.

Elian didn't need to ask who he meant. The resemblance was unmistakable-the shape of the skull, the set of the jaw. Another vessel. Another failure.

A sound echoed from the tunnels behind them-the distant scrape of boots on stone, the metallic whisper of drawn blades. The hunters had found their trail.

Raelith pressed a hand to the wall, his palm covering a nearly invisible sigil carved into the stone. With a groan of protesting rock, a new passage revealed itself, this one sloping downward at a sharp angle. The air that rushed out was colder, drier, carrying the faintest whisper of voices that weren't there.

"Where does it lead?" Elian asked, her breath fogging in the sudden chill.

"To the beginning," Raelith said simply.

The tunnel opened into a vast circular chamber, its domed ceiling painted with constellations that no longer matched the night sky. At its center stood a stone altar, its surface polished smooth by time and stained dark at the edges where blood had seeped into the rock.

Elian didn't need to ask what had happened here. The memory rose unbidden-Seraphina standing where she now stood, the ritual dagger gleaming in her hand, Raelith bound upon the stone.

"You brought me here to remind me of her betrayal," Elian said, her voice hollow.

Raelith's fingers brushed the altar's edge, tracing grooves worn by ropes. "I brought you here to show you the truth." He turned to face her fully, the bioluminescent fungi casting his sharp features in eerie blue light. "She didn't act alone."

From the shadows emerged thirteen figures-not hunters, not living beings at all, but desiccated corpses wrapped in tattered gray robes. Their skeletal hands were clasped before them, their hooded skulls bowed in reverence. The Ancient Ones.

The leader raised its head, revealing eye sockets that burned with the same green fire Elian saw in her nightmares. When it spoke, its voice was the whisper of wind through dead leaves:

"The vessel has come at last."

Raelith stepped between Elian and the creatures, his coat flaring like wings. "She's not for you."

The Ancient One's laughter was the sound of bones rattling in a coffin. "She was always ours."

Elian's pendant burned white-hot, sending waves of agony radiating through her chest. The walls of the chamber seemed to breathe around them, the very stones remembering what had happened here. Remembering the blood.

Remembering the betrayal.

As the hunters' shouts echoed ever closer, Raelith pressed something cold into Elian's hand-a dagger, its blade etched with runes that matched those on her skin.

"Choose," he whispered.

And in the flickering blue light, with the past and present collapsing around her, Elian finally understood what the blood moon would demand.