Chapter 9: Beneath the Bell
The cathedral bells began to toll just as the final rays of sun slipped below the palace walls.
High Bell.
For most of the kingdom, it was a sacred hour—priests knelt in prayer, guards turned their eyes to the heavens, and the devout whispered pleas into candlelit silence.
For me, it was a countdown.
I moved through the cathedral's shadowed halls cloaked in servant garb, Dahlia at my side with a blade hidden beneath her sleeve. She said nothing, only watched each corner like a hawk raised on battlefield wind.
We slipped down a side stair beneath the pulpit—a passage forgotten by most, but not all. Camden had marked it clearly on the map he'd etched beneath the tea saucer: "Enter through the reliquary, not the crypt gate. Avoid the sanctified wards."
The air grew colder as we descended.
The stone narrowed, and the echo of the bells above faded into something more primal. Like breathing. Like something alive beneath the earth.
And then—we arrived.
A door stood at the end of the tunnel, ancient and weathered, its frame tangled with roots and the remnants of binding spells burned into the stone. In its center, a silver seal shimmered faintly.
Three crowns. One broken. One inverted. One cracked.
I recognized the imagery from the Vale family crest—but the broken crown in the middle was never shown in public.
This wasn't just about my family.
This was about the original betrayal.
I reached into my cloak and drew a shard of obsidian—Camden's key. A fragment said to be carved from the crypt itself before the binding. I held it toward the seal.
Nothing.
Then I heard the whisper:
> "What is your true name?"
Not Seraphina.
Not Ivy.
The name throbbed in my chest—an echo from lifetimes past. A thread that didn't belong to this world. It wasn't spoken. It wasn't known. It was remembered.
I closed my eyes and let the truth settle into my bones.
> "Vaylen."
The seal flared with white-blue light. The vines recoiled. The door unlatched with a groan like an ancient beast awakening.
Dahlia gasped.
"You—you said your name was—"
"It is," I said softly. "But this is what I was before."
---
The crypt was not a vault. It was a library.
Endless shelves carved into the bones of the earth, each holding scrolls, stones, and artifacts sealed in glass. This was the record the crown had hidden—not to protect us from evil, but to protect itself from exposure.
We walked in reverent silence until we reached a pedestal at the center.
Upon it rested a single tome, bound in human leather—ugly, ancient, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. Carved into its spine were the words:
> "The Vault of Wills."
I opened it with trembling hands.
What I saw confirmed everything Camden feared.
The curse did not begin with the Vale family.
It began with the royal line—a pact made to protect the throne from collapse during a great war centuries ago. The blood magic required a proxy to absorb the madness, the darkness, the weight.
House Vale was chosen.
We were the crown's scapegoat. Their poison sponge.
Every heir born to our line was shackled to a portion of the burden the throne refused to carry. That's why our minds fractured. Why madness touched so many of my ancestors. It wasn't weakness. It was design.
The crown stood tall because we crumbled beneath it.
And worse still: the binding is fading.
Which means the madness is no longer contained.
---
As I closed the book, a shadow stirred across the floor.
From behind the far pillar emerged a figure cloaked in priestly robes, face veiled.
"Knowledge is a luxury you should not afford," he said.
I tensed. "You."
The figure bowed.
"I serve the Balance. And the Balance demands silence."
He raised a hand. A glyph ignited in the air.
Dahlia lunged first—blade flashing—but the shadow caught her mid-air with a burst of force and flung her against the wall. She crumpled, breathing but dazed.
I reached for the shard of obsidian, but the figure was already chanting.
Pain lanced through my chest.
My hands clutched the Vault. Instinctively, I whispered:
> "Vaylen. Seal me."
The book blazed. The seal on my bloodline activated—ancient glyphs dancing across my arms like molten chains. The pain became a scream. The crypt shuddered. Dust rained from the ceiling.
The shadow hissed. "You should not know that name—!"
I released the surge.
A wave of white-blue energy burst from my core and shattered the glyph he'd summoned. The priest staggered, shrieking, and fled into the darkness.
I collapsed.
The silence afterward was deafening.
---
Above, Prince Kael stood before the royal council, jaw clenched.
"I am invoking Royal Clause Nine," he declared. "A full review of House Vale's charges, protections, and role in court history. Effective immediately."
The High Cardinal rose from his seat, slowly. "You risk much, Your Highness."
Kael's voice was like steel on stone. "And you've risked too little for too long."
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