For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
The night air hung heavy, the silence filled only by the rustle of ivy and the slow, uneven breaths of those who had come through the fold of magic.
Zelene stood frozen where she was, her cloak brushing against the cold stone, her pulse echoing in her ears.
Cassian Rosanwald's gaze lingered on her — calm, analytical, but not unkind. He looked every bit as he had at the ball: composed, distant, a man who had seen too much and learned never to show it.
Moonlight caught the faint silver sigil etched into his wrist — the same she'd seen months ago and hadn't understood. Now, it pulsed faintly, as if answering something in the air.
"Bring him inside," Cassian said finally, his voice quiet but firm. "The wards here will hold."
Darius and Ray exchanged wary glances, but obeyed. Ray lifted Kael once more, his movements careful, reverent even.
The great doors of the Rosanwald estate swung wider as they approached, their hinges silent — as if the house itself had been expecting them.
Inside, the manor was unlike any noble home Zelene had ever seen.
No chandeliers, no banners — only stone, wood, and the faint scent of incense and old rain. Candles burned in niches along the hall, their flames steady and pale blue, casting long shadows that moved even when the air was still.
Strange runes shimmered faintly across the walls, shifting when she tried to focus on them. They weren't mere decorations — they breathed, responding to presence, to thought.
Cassian led them through the winding hallways in silence until they reached a chamber where the air felt different — dense, resonant, like standing inside a heartbeat.
"Lay him there," Cassian instructed, gesturing to a stone bed in the center, engraved with intricate spirals that pulsed faintly in rhythm with Kael's breath.
Ray lowered Kael gently onto it, stepping back, his eyes wary.
The markings on Kael's arm had dulled to faint crimson, the veins no longer writhing, but the sigils still glowed faintly beneath the skin — as though whispering.
Cassian approached, kneeling beside the bed. His fingertips hovered just above Kael's chest, tracing invisible lines in the air.
"You were right to bring him here," he murmured. "But tell me, Lady Evandelle… when did the curse start to stir?"
Zelene hesitated. The words came soft, almost guilty. "It's always been there. Dormant. But recently, it's… changing. It's awake. And Miren—"
At the name, Cassian's head lifted, his expression darkening just slightly. "Miren of Dravenhart?"
"Yes. She— she was his maid, but also…" Zelene's throat tightened. "Something else. She was tied to the curse itself. She said she was bound to it— to him."
Cassian's gaze sharpened. "Him."
The word hung heavy in the air.
Zelene swallowed. "She called it the One Below."
A silence settled over the room, deep and tangible.
Even the flickering blue flames seemed to bow to it.
Cassian straightened slowly. "Then what sleeps beneath his bloodline has begun to stir indeed."
Darius, pale from exhaustion, frowned. "What do you mean, Lord Rosanwald?"
Cassian's eyes flicked to him, then back to Kael. "The Dravenhart curse is no disease, no mere inheritance. It is a seal — a prison wrought from blood and sacrifice. The One Below was not killed, only contained. Each generation, a Dravenhart bears the mark to keep it bound."
Zelene's breath caught. "Then… Kael…"
"He is the vessel," Cassian said simply. "And now, the vessel is breaking."
The words landed like thunder.
Zelene took a step forward, her voice trembling. "Can you help him?"
Cassian's gaze softened — the faintest flicker of empathy beneath the scholar's calm. "Perhaps. But to mend a seal, one must first know what it holds."
He turned toward the inner door — tall, dark wood carved with the crest of Rosanwald, a circle of roses around a single eye.
"I can show you what binds him," he said. "But once you see it, there is no turning away from it."
Zelene's hand tightened into a fist at her side. She looked back at Kael — the man who had fought against his own blood, who had nearly burned himself to protect her.
Her voice was steady when she spoke. "Then show me."
Cassian inclined his head, motioning for her to follow.
Ray hesitated but stayed by Kael's side, his magic dim but vigilant.
Darius leaned against the doorway, still catching his breath, muttering something under his breath about "his Grace better not die before I do."
Cassian led Zelene down a narrow stairwell lit by veins of blue light carved into the stone. Each step felt colder, heavier — like descending through centuries of silence.
At the base, the hall opened into a vast underground chamber.
Hundreds of glass spheres lined the walls — each one glowing faintly, each one containing something that moved. Whispers brushed the edges of her mind, voices too old to name.
"This is the Hall of Echoes," Cassian said quietly. "Every binding ever performed by my family is kept here. The Rosanwalds were never mere scholars. We are the keepers of what should never wake."
Zelene stared, her voice a whisper. "You keep… spirits?"
Cassian glanced at her, a faint, sad smile playing at his lips. "Spirits are what mortals call them. We call them remnants. Pieces of what the gods left behind when they fell."
He stopped before one of the spheres — darker than the rest, pulsing like a slow heartbeat. Inside it, something vast coiled and shifted.
"The One Below," he said. "Bound beneath Dravenhart blood."
Zelene's stomach twisted. "You mean—"
"Yes." Cassian's tone turned grave. "The curse was not meant to be cured. It was meant to be fed. Each Dravenhart lives and dies to keep the prison sealed. And now, the vessel— your Duke— is unraveling. The seal weakens."
Her breath caught. The cold, the air, the weight of it all — it pressed against her chest until she thought she might break.
"So how do we stop it?"
Cassian's gaze softened — but not with comfort.
"By giving the curse something else to bind to."
Zelene froze. "You mean— another vessel?"
He nodded once. "Or the world will burn."