The path to the Crystal Catacombs began beneath Aldelorne.
Literally.
Ayla had uncovered a forgotten map deep in the palace archives—one marked with faded runes and blood-colored ink. It traced a serpentine tunnel from beneath the queen's palace to the mountains east of the capital.
"This map predates the current dynasty," she explained. "Before the palace was even built, the Catacombs were a sacred burial ground. Only the royal seers and warriors of old ever knew of its full depth."
Kaelin examined the parchment. The route carved a path through forbidden grounds—abandoned temples, sealed crypts, and what was marked ominously as The Whispering Deep.
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Into the Earth
They moved quickly and quietly.
Kaelin led the way with Mira close behind, her twin daggers drawn. Jericho carried a lantern enchanted with a steady flame, and Ayla brought up the rear, eyes darting to every shadow.
The tunnel entrance was hidden behind an ancient mosaic beneath the queen's garden. It opened with a series of glyphs Kaelin instinctively understood—words in the old Flame Tongue.
The air beyond was cold. Bitter. As if even time had frozen there.
"We go quietly," Ayla whispered.
As they stepped into the earth's veins, a low wind howled behind them—and the tunnel sealed itself shut.
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The Whispering Deep
For hours, they walked in silence, the only sound the crunch of gravel and the distant drip of unseen water.
Then came the whispers.
They weren't loud.
They were... personal.
Kaelin froze when she heard her mother's voice.
"You abandoned me."
Mira clutched her head, staggering. "Shut up. Shut up!"
Jericho collapsed to his knees, whispering prayers in broken fragments.
Ayla remained still. Watching.
"It's not real," she said calmly. "They're memory-wraiths. Echoes that feed off guilt."
Kaelin clenched her fists, the flame inside her resisting the invasion. She breathed deep. Let her inner fire rise. The whispers burned away like paper in a furnace.
One by one, the others followed.
Except Mira.
She stood still, trembling. Then whispered, "I saw her. My sister. She's... she's still alive."
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The Catacomb Gate
At last, they reached the gate.
A massive archway, forged from bone-white stone, loomed before them. Runes shimmered along its frame, pulsing in rhythmic silence.
Beneath it, a statue stood guard.
A cloaked figure with hollow eyes and a blade of obsidian.
Ayla stepped forward. "This is it. The Warden."
Before anyone could stop her, the statue moved.
Stone groaned. Dust fell like ash.
And the Warden's blade pointed directly at Kaelin.
"Only the flame may pass," it intoned in a language that made the air tremble.
Kaelin stepped forward, heart pounding. "I am the flame."
The Warden raised its blade—and knelt.
The gate opened with a thunderous groan, revealing a spiral stairwell descending into glowing blue crystal.
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The Hall of Echoes
They entered the catacombs.
Crystals lined every wall, casting soft light and reflecting distorted visions. The walls seemed to shimmer and breathe.
Ancient tombs lined the corridors—each marked with names written in the Forgotten Script.
Jericho muttered in awe, "These are the Kings of the First Flame…"
But the deeper they went, the colder it became.
And then they found it.
A massive chamber, carved in perfect symmetry. In its center floated a blade—encased in crystal, humming with restrained power.
Ayla stepped forward. "That's it. The Emberfang."
Kaelin's heart raced. The weapon was calling to her.
But just as she reached for it—
A shadow burst from the wall.
Tall. Cloaked. Eyes like voids.
"She is not yet worthy."