Chapter 110: The Depths Beneath

The ground rumbled beneath Serena’s boots as the fortress gates groaned open. Dust billowed out like a sigh of warning, thick with ancient memories and bitter magic. The hallway beyond was steeped in shadow, lit only by flickering torches that came to life one by one as if guided by unseen hands.

“I don’t like this,” Zara muttered, gripping her daggers. “Places like this don’t just open up for anyone.”

“Exactly,” Elias replied, eyes narrowed. “They open for someone who belongs.”

Serena hesitated just beyond the threshold. The air was thick, not just with dust but with power—her power. It whispered in her veins, awakening something primal, something old. She could feel the pull in her blood like a song she’d forgotten how to hum.

“We’re not turning back now,” Theron said, voice steady as ever, though the flicker of unease in his gaze betrayed him. He glanced at Serena. “You lead.”

The hallway stretched far into darkness, with walls carved from stone laced with veins of silver. Each step echoed with ancient murmurs. Shadows shifted, dancing around them with silent curiosity.

Serena’s breath caught as they came to a wide chamber, its ceiling disappearing into darkness. At its center stood a pedestal—black as night, veins of light pulsing through it like the beat of a heart. Upon it rested a crown. Simple, regal, and utterly wrong.

“It’s not real,” Elias said quickly, stepping forward. “It’s a test.”

But Serena was already moving. The air thrummed with recognition as she neared. Her magic rose, responding to something in the crown—not allure, not power, but memory. She saw flashes—her mother, cloaked in silver, laying the crown upon a woman’s head… and screams.

So many screams.

She stumbled back. “This isn’t just a test. It’s a warning.”

Suddenly, the chamber pulsed, and the crown burst into light. Magic surged outward like a wave, throwing everyone back. Serena hit the stone wall with a grunt, the wind knocked from her chest. Before her vision cleared, figures rose from the ground—shadows wearing flesh, faces twisted into mockeries of people she once loved. Her aunt. Her childhood friend. Her father.

“No,” Serena whispered, stepping back.

The illusions moved in unison, lips parting to speak in voices that echoed hers.

“You abandoned us.”

“You let them die.”

“You think you’re strong enough now? You think you deserve the throne?”

Serena’s hands trembled. “You’re not real.”

“They’re real enough to break you,” came a voice from the darkness—and it was a voice she knew far too well.

Lord Varyn.

He stepped into the torchlight, older but unmistakable. His eyes gleamed with that same cold pride, and his magic rolled off him in waves.

“How fitting,” he said. “That you would return here to die, surrounded by ghosts of your own making.”

Elias moved in front of Serena before she could react. “You’re not touching her.”

Varyn’s gaze flicked to Elias, then to Theron, then back to Serena. “How many men will you break before you break yourself, girl?”

“She’s not alone,” Theron growled, stepping beside Elias.

Varyn raised a brow, amused. “No, clearly not. You brought your little army of protectors. But I wonder—will they bleed for you the way your mother bled? Or will they run when they see what you truly are?”

“I know what I am now,” Serena said, stepping forward. Her voice was steady despite the pounding in her chest. “I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

Varyn smiled coldly. “Then prove it.”

He vanished in a blur, reappearing before her with a blade drawn. It shimmered with dark enchantment, and as he struck, Elias intercepted, steel meeting steel. Sparks flew. Serena barely had time to react before Zara pulled her back.

“Go,” Zara shouted. “Find the source of the enchantment—we’ll hold him off!”

“No—”

“Serena!” Theron barked. “Now!”

Her heart screamed against it, but she obeyed, sprinting toward the back of the chamber. The illusions clawed at her mind, distorting the walls, twisting reality. She gritted her teeth, pushing through the darkness until she found a second door—carved with the same sigils from her family’s lineage.

Blood opened it. She knew that instinctively.

Her dagger shook in her grip as she sliced her palm. The door drank it in silence, then swung open with a groan.

The room beyond was... alive.

Vines of glowing silver curled along the walls. Floating crystals pulsed with light. And at its center was a mirror—cracked, ancient, and swirling with a mist that reflected not her image, but her soul.

She stepped closer. The mist parted.

She saw herself—crowned, surrounded by fire and blood, and beside her stood Elias and Theron... but their eyes were filled with grief.

The image flickered—then changed. She saw herself again, but this time kneeling before her people, the crown not on her head, but in her hands. She was a queen not of conquest, but of choice. And the men beside her—smiling, whole.

A choice.

This was what it all led to.

Behind her, she felt the battle intensify. The clash of swords. The crackle of magic. Elias’s voice shouting her name.

And still, the mirror waited.

She reached out and placed her bloodied hand against it.

The mirror shattered.

Magic exploded through the room like a wave, blinding her, lifting her from the ground. Her body surged with energy—not foreign, but hers, ancient and wild. Her heart thudded with a power that pulsed with every ancestor who had come before her.

She screamed.

The walls shook. The fortress groaned. And the illusions outside collapsed into dust.

When the light faded, she stood—changed.

Serena turned slowly, eyes glowing silver.

The battle had paused. Varyn was on one knee, bleeding from the mouth, staring at her with disbelief.

“What… have you done?” he rasped.

“I claimed what you never could,” Serena said, voice low. “My truth.”

Elias and Theron moved to her side, awe and fear in their eyes—but love too. Unyielding.

Serena took a deep breath. “This is just the beginning.”