CHAPTER 10

Aria's POV 

The forest changed that morning, as I noticed it while sparring with Dorian. We were deep in the southern woods—farther than the usual training routes. Dorian was on his usual quiet, intense self, pushing me to move faster, strike cleaner. Every time I landed a hit, he grunted in approval like I’d passed some unspoken test.

We paused for water near a cluster of black-stone ridges I hadn’t seen before. Something felt... off. I tilted my head, catching a shimmer in the air like heat waves—but the air was cold. Still.

Then I saw it.

The trees just ahead had curved inward, unnaturally so, their branches twisted like they were reaching toward something—or protecting it.

“Dorian,” I called, my voice low but sharp.

He turned and followed my gaze. Without a word, we moved toward the clearing.

The moment we stepped through the trees, the temperature dropped.

At the center of the glade there's a rock wall that seems as nothing more than a collapsed cliffside, but the longer I stared, the more I noticed the symmetry in the stone. Cracks in perfect lines. Runes, barely visible beneath moss.

Dorian approached first, brushing aside vines. There it was—an archway. A door. He pressed his hand to the center. The air shimmered again. A low hum built beneath our feet.

The rock split down the middle.

A passage opened.

“A cave?” I asked as my breath caught in my throat.

“No,” Dorian said, his voice tense. “A vault.”

We stepped inside. It was like walking into memory.

The air inside was thick with old magic. And dust clung to the stone walls, with pale blue moss glowed faintly along the ceiling. The corridor was narrow, and opened into a chamber, showing a circular. Moonlight poured through a hole in the roof, even though the sky outside was overcast.

In the center, resting on a black pedestal, was a blade.

Its hilt was silver, wrapped in woven strands of moonlace. The blade itself shimmered with a sharp, glasslike surface that bled into shadow at the edge.

Beside it, wrapped in aged velvet, lay a scroll case etched in ancient High Script. Symbols I’d seen in my dreams. And above all, hovering within a suspended ring of light—

A silver diadem.

It pulsed softly, like it was alive. 

Then I stared at it, “I’ve seen that before,” I whispered.

“In your visions?” Dorian asked.

I nodded. “The Moon Queen wore it.”

Dorian studied the artifacts with a soldier’s eye. “These were sealed here. Protected. Someone didn’t want them found.”

“Or,” I said, “They were meant to be found—by the right person.”

He didn’t argue.

We wrapped the scrolls and the diadem in cloth. Dorian carried the blade himself, like it was something sacred. We left the cave in silence.

Back at the Crimson Hall, Cato stood at the long map table when we arrived. His eyes narrowed the moment he saw the relics.

“You found them,” he breathed.

“We didn’t just find them,” I said. “They were waiting.”

Cato examined the scroll case first, running his fingers along the edges like a man handling fire.

“This script is forbidden,” he said. “No one alive knows how to write this anymore.”

He cracked it open carefully and unrolled the first scroll. Symbols danced across the page, glowing faintly under the candlelight.

“These belonged to her,” he said finally. “The Moon Queen.”

My breath caught on hearing that.

“She was real?” I asked.

“Oh, very real,” Cato said. “And more dangerous than any ruler who came after.”

Dorian placed the blade on the table, its edge catching the light. “And now her weapons, her records—her legacy—are in our hands.”

I didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

That night, Elias found me in the courtyard. He moved carefully, like I was breakable.

“You’ve changed,” he said.

“You mean since I found out I’m possibly descended from a mythical queen and carrying a child tied to a prophecy?”

He smiled faintly. “Yes. That.”

I dropped onto the stone bench. “Everything’s happening too fast.”

“You have to stay ahead of it,” Elias said. “The relics... they’re just the start.”

I looked up at him. “You think they’ll come for the child, don’t you?”

Elias nodded. “Not just come—they’ll tear down mountains, and they'll not rest, until they find you. Magnus won’t stop. Not when he learns what you carry.”

A chill ran down my spine.

“And if he already knows?” I asked.

Elias’s jaw clenched. “Then we don’t have time.”

The next day, trouble came. As Crimson scout dragged a man through the gates at dawn. His clothes were torn, and his arm was broken, but the mark on his collar was clear.

Kael’s insignia.

He was one of Kael’s soldiers.

I recognized him. He used to stand guard at the inner courtyard. Always quiet. Always watching.

“What was he doing this far north?” I asked.

Cato stared down at the man. “Scouting. Spying. Tracking you.”

“He shouldn’t have been able to pass the outer wards,” Dorian muttered.

“I didn’t see him cross them,” the scout said. “He was already inside.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Someone had let him in.

The soldier was locked in the cellar beneath the council chamber.

Cato ordered a full sweep of the territory. Dorian doubled the watch. I barely slept that night, feeling like shadows pressed against the windows, waiting for me to blink.

Elias refused to leave my side.

“This changes everything,” he said.

“It means Kael knows,” I whispered.

He looked down at my stomach, then back at me. “You have to go into hiding.”

I shook my head. “I’m done running.”

“It’s not just about you anymore.”

That hurt. But he was right.

Later that night, I sat down in the study alone in silence with one of the scrolls spread before me. The candlelight flickered as I traced a line of text with my fingers.

The words shimmered—then rearranged.

I blinked.

A new line appeared beneath the others, glowing softly.

“When the blood is near, the gate will open.”

“What gate?” I whispered.

But before I could read more, a crash shook the room.

I shot to my feet and ran for the stairs.

Outside, warriors shouted. Flames flickered at the edge of the courtyard.

Elias met me at the entrance. “A breach,” he growled. “Not from outside—from below.”

“What?” I gasped.

He pointed toward the old catacombs that ran beneath the fortress.

Dorian was already there, sword in hand.

Cato stood over a collapsed section of the stone floor, where smoke was pouring out.

“Where is the soldier?” I asked.

“Gone,” Cato said.

“He escaped?”

“No.” His eyes met mine. “He opened something.”

Elias stepped forward. “There’s only one way out of the catacombs. The southern tunnel. If he reaches the edge—”

“He’s gone,” Dorian finished grimly. “He knew the layout. Someone told him.”

My pulse roared in my ears.

“I think I know where he’s going,” I said.

“Where?” Elias asked.

“The vault. The cave.”

Dorian cursed. “If he touches the relics—”

“No,” I said slowly. “He’s not after the relics.”

They all stared at me.

“He’s going to the gate.”

“What gate?” Cato asked.

I turned to the scroll, its words still glowing.

“The one only my ‘blood’ can open.”