Mars had heard the old stories. Every child in Sunspear knew of secret chambers, hidden passages, and lost archives buried beneath the palace. No one had ever found them.
Until now.
The night was silent, the sky overcast as Mars quietly slipped from his chambers. He knew every step, every darkened alcove along the palace corridors. The old folding screen in the archives had been moved — just slightly. A detail only someone with sharp eyes would notice.
A hidden passage.
"This is reckless and foolish," a soft, feminine voice murmured in his mind.
"It's called curiosity, darling," Mars replied with a grin.
A delicate huff. "More like idiocy."
The narrow stairs led downward into darkness. Ancient Rhoynar symbols marked the walls, worn and barely legible. Mars pressed on until he reached a narrow chamber lit by a single, ancient lantern.
Scrolls lay upon stone pedestals. Most had crumbled to dust. But a few still bore visible marks.
"This is…" Mars swallowed hard.
Reports of Nymeria. Tales of meetings with "green seers." Legends of ancient magic that still lingered in Westeros, deep in the North and in secret places.
"See? Magic isn't dead. Even here." Sage's voice was a soft whisper.
Mars's fingers brushed an old map. The Gods Eye. The Isle of Faces.
"And all of this… it might still exist?"
"Likely. Or it's waiting for you."
A shiver crept down his spine.
At the far end of the chamber, he found a leather-bound tome. Rhoynar sigils of wind magic.
"Ashara will love this," Mars murmured.
"How sweet. Thinking of her already."
He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.
"Come on. Before someone catches us."
"Finally, a sensible idea."