Blackwood Treasure Maps 3 Novels & Stories

The air inside the subterranean archives of Blackwood Manor tasted of centuries-old dust, decayed vellum, and the distinct, sharp tang of ozone. Clara Rossi adjusted the magnification visor over her eyes, her breath shallow and rhythmic. To an ordinary archivist, the basement of Julian Vance’s ancestral estate was a historical goldmine. To Clara, it was a puzzle waiting to be solved. For three weeks, she had been meticulously restoring the 18th-century blueprinted maps of the estate, peeling back layers of poorly executed Victorian restorations to find the original layouts.

It was a large, windowless room located in the basement level of the main estate, lined with heavy tactical maps, weapon racks, and a massive illuminated glass table in the center. I stepped up to the glass table, pressing a button on the side to bring up the holographic map of the Blackwood territory. The glowing blue terrain expanded before my eyes, marked with red dots indicating recent attack locations. Chris stood on the opposite side of the table, his dark amber eyes watching me closely as I began analyzing the data.

’Good morning staffs, I would very much like to make this meeting a very short one’ The manager tells us. ‘For the new staffs who do not know the boss, this is mr. Jones Black, C.E.O of Mars private hospital, which you all know has branches all over the continent’. The manager says, addressing the fine piece of art beside him. Mr. Black just waves at us, a light smile on his lips which makes my breath hitch. I know I am sounding like a hopeless romantic right now but I can’t deny the attraction I feel towards this man. ‘Oh. My. God! He looks even more stunning with that smile’. Goldie says, twisting a strand of hair around her finger as she stares dreamingly at Mr. Black.

His voice was hoarse and I didn't like it. "Can you show me this new development of yours?" Gavin led him to the computer and demonstrated what it could do. "Here. There is the map of the entire woods, including the creeks, rivers," he paused to enlarge the picture, "and those lines mark the claimed parts of the woods by various packs. And these," he pressed a button and scattered parts on the map changed the colour to white. "are the unclaimed parts of the forest." My father's lips twitched. "That's impressive."

I shoved a server out of my way, his tray rattling as flutes tumbled to the carpet. "Hey! Watch it—" I didn't stop. I reached inside my breast pocket, my fingers closing around the crumpled folder I had stolen from the Blackwood archives before Tracy had locked me out. Old registry files. Historical boundary maps. Ancestral property deeds signed by Rosemarie's grandfather decades before the pack alliances had shifted. I marched straight down the center aisle, my leather soles thudding against the carpet, cutting through the whispering lords and gasping socialites like an unhinged phantom.

Every nerve screamed danger, but the bond kept me steady, hot and alive. At the center of the stronghold, we found it—a chamber carved into the earth, lit by torches that guttered in the stale air. Maps littered a crude table, scrawled with strategies and names—our names. Betrayals inked in black, alliances noted, ambush points circled. Proof of a mole within Blackwood. Kade’s fist slammed down, splintering the wood. Rage crackled off him, but I placed a hand on his arm. “This means we’re closer than ever. He’s desperate enough to show his hand.”

“Close the door.” I obeyed. “I received another message this morning.” He slid a printed email across the desk. “Read this.” I picked up the paper. Subject: Blood Will Tell “The heir plays while Rome burns. But fire purifies. Fire reveals. Soon, the false will fall, and the worthy will rise from the ashes. Count your days, Blackwood. Count them carefully.” My stomach tightened. This was different from the others. More personal. More direct. “When did this arrive?” “Six AM. Routed through the same encrypted channels as the others.”

He unrolled a map across the table, pointing to a significant section marked with the Blackwood crest. "This land—ten percent of my personal territory—will belong to you regardless of your relationship with my grandson." I stared at the map in shock. The territory he indicated was worth more than most wolves would see in a lifetime—prime hunting grounds with two healing springs and access to rare herb fields. "Elder Blackwood," I managed, tears threatening to spill. "I can't accept this."

He was not a braggart like Ethan, nor was he as strange as Fane. Looking at Fane who was acting like he would definitely get a treasure, Nash suddenly wanted to shout at him. After all, in Nash's mind, the black treasure was his, it had nothing to do with Fane. Just as Nash was wondering if he should say something, the wizened and cold voice was heard again. "The results will be announced right now. For various reasons, I'll only announce the top three results that will win the treasures. In third place, the black treasure goes to Emilio from the Chaos Continent!"

It was filled with sketches—industrial designs for Blackwood turbine engines and early architectural software frameworks. “What is this?” I whispered, pulling out a set of blueprints dated thirty years ago. The stamps on the corner didn’t say Vermon. They said Blackwood Industries – Proprietary & Confidential. I flipped through a leather-bound journal. The handwriting was elegant, slanted—Beatrice’s hand. But the contents weren’t poetry or sketches of landscapes. They were logs of meetings, security codes for Blackwood vaults, and detailed descriptions of Michael Blackwood’s private encryption keys.