Lara drew in a slow breath, but it did nothing to steady the storm clawing at her chest.
Where was Calma?
Why there was not even a footnote? Not even a disputed legend or a dismissive line calling it a myth.
And the Kromwels — Alaric's bloodline, and hers too, they were gone like the wind.
As if history had swallowed them whole and never bothered to chew.
Her stomach twisted.
Disasters don't do that.
Fire leaves bones. Floods leave wreckage. Time leaves stories.
But only people erase.
Had the Kromwel line been hunted to extinction? Silenced generation by generation until no one remained who could contradict the lie?
Her eyes moved across the chamber — the rows of sarcophagi, the ancient carvings, the suffocating weight of centuries pressing in from stone and shadow. Proof everywhere… yet nowhere else in the world.
It felt less like a tomb and more like a vault.
Like something had been locked away on purpose.
