The Crown Of Ash and Silver
The stone shuddered and then parted, revealing a narrow corridor lined with statues of hooded monks.
Each held a vessel carved from crystal, filled with a faint, silvery liquid. None had spilled despite the centuries.
Lucien frowned. “What is this?”
Elias bent close. “Essence. The monks preserved remnants of divine energy—prayers made manifest. If these survived, they could amplify her power.”
Seraphina’s gaze moved across the vessels. “Or awaken something the Church meant to forget.”
As she spoke, the air changed again. The silvery light inside the vessels began to stir, drawn toward her like breath toward flame.