Chapter 116: The King’s Last Move
The silence of the cavern was deceiving.
Cambria’s boots struck the stone with the echo of finality as she led Knox and Maddox deeper into the heart of the hidden chamber. The glow of molten gold and black flame bathed their faces in a haunting light, the heat rising in waves that made the air shimmer. Each breath tasted of ash and old magic, and the weight of countless generations pressed down on them as if the mountain itself disapproved of their presence.
Knox’s gaze never left the towering spire at the cavern’s center. It rose like a broken finger pointing at the sky that would never be seen from this place, crowned in ancient symbols only half-remembered by history. He felt it calling to him, the same way the black flame had except this was deeper, older. Not a hunger for destruction, but a demand for surrender.
Cambria stopped at the edge of one of the molten rivers, sweat beading on her brow despite the chill that clung to her skin. The spire beyond seemed impossibly far, the rivers of liquid fire carving a maze that would burn any who dared the crossing.
"We can’t stand here and stare at it," Maddox said, his voice strained. His eyes darted over the shifting flows of gold and flame. "There must be a path."
"There always is," Cambria murmured. "If you know where to look."
She scanned the cavern, letting her mind quiet, seeking what her eyes could not. And then she saw it small pillars of stone, half-swallowed by molten gold, forming a broken path toward the spire’s base. The gaps were wide; the stone slick. One wrong step would mean a fall into the fire.
Knox stepped forward. "I’ll go first."
Cambria turned to him sharply. "No. We do this together."
Their eyes locked for a moment, understanding passing between them in the unspoken language of shared scars. He nodded.
Together, they moved. One by one, they leapt from pillar to pillar, the heat searing their lungs, the air shimmering with dangerous beauty. Maddox’s breath came in ragged bursts, but he kept pace, his focus unbroken. The molten rivers hissed beneath them like serpents waiting for a slip.