Chapter 37: Below the Crown
The stairs spiraled downward in silence.
Stone beneath Elric's feet felt unnaturally smooth, carved by hands that had worked with care—and urgency. Faint glyphs lined the walls, pulsing once as he passed. Not glowing. Breathing.
Lira moved behind him, her blade returned to its sheath, but her hand never far.
"How far does this go?" she whispered.
Elric didn't answer right away. His focus was on the energy in the air—warm and cold all at once, like memory and blood in a slow pulse.
After what felt like a hundred steps, the path opened.
A circular chamber. Wide. Vaulted. The roots of the throne above curled through the ceiling like veins puncturing bone. In the center stood a stone table—flat, gray, and carved with the same serpent sigil now etched on Elric's wrist.
He stepped closer.
Etched words circled the table's edge, in the same ancient language from the Tree of Echoes.
Lira stayed near the door, eyes scanning the walls. "No guards. No traps. Why would they leave this unprotected?"
"They didn't," Elric said, voice low.