Page 68

In the Hour of Ruin

I took a measured step forward, breath held as I raised my hand toward the painting.

The moment my fingers brushed the rippling surface, everything changed.

The air twisted—folded in on itself—and with a sudden lurch, the world pulled out from beneath us. I barely had time to gasp before the others were yanked forward, the silencing ward snapping like thread in water.

We were falling—not through space, but through something deeper. Older. Spiraling through darkness that had no bottom, no form, no time.

A rushing sound filled my ears. Light flared, then vanished.

Then, all at once, it ended.

I hit solid ground with a thud, knees buckling, hands scraping across damp stone.

Around me, the others landed hard—staggering, coughing, wide-eyed.

We were outside.

The night sky above us was unfamiliar—deeper in hue, scattered with stars I didn’t recognize. The wind carried no scent of the sea, no whisper of the forests we knew. Just stillness. A silence so profound it felt sacred.

We stood before the very ruins from the painting.

The towering stone entryway loomed behind us, identical to the one we’d seen moments before, now solid and cold. The walls stretched high above, worn and cracked with age, veined with creeping ivy.

Beyond the arch, the remains of a forgotten civilization sprawled outward—twisting corridors, sunken courts, and shattered pillars scattered like bones across the earth. The path ahead was a labyrinth of stone and shadow.

Lydia took a slow step forward, peering at the towering maze.

“This place isn’t on any map,” she murmured. “Not from the archive. Not even in Cordelia’s records.”

Bethany’s voice was tight. “So where are we?”

Samael looked around warily, one hand resting near the base of his spine where he kept a hidden dagger. “Somewhere we weren’t meant to find.”

Leander exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing on the maze ahead. “We should split up. Cover more ground. We can mark the walls with chalk or—”

“No.” The word left my mouth before I could stop it.

They all turned toward me.

“We stay together,” I said firmly. “Whatever’s in there—it’s ancient. Powerful. We don’t know what defenses were left behind, or who else might have found this place. We’re stronger as a unit.”

Bethany nodded immediately. “Agreed.”

Leander hesitated, then shrugged. “Fine, but the moment I say run, you run.”

The group fell into step behind me, and we passed beneath the archway.

Inside the labyrinth, the temperature dropped.

The walls pressed close, towering over us on either side. Moss clung to the stone like velvet, and the floor was slick with moisture and scattered debris.

High above, the moonlight barely reached us—just faint slivers of silver trickling through crumbled openings.

There were no signs. No markings. No map to follow. Only corridors that twisted and looped in impossible angles.

My fingers brushed the edge of Cordelia’s tome inside my satchel, seeking reassurance in its presence.

Imogen and Elsbeth walked these paths, I thought. Centuries ago. They faced this, maybe even created it, but doubt whispered at the edges of my thoughts.

What if we never found our way out?

What if we were already too late?

We pressed deeper into the maze, our footsteps softened by moss and time.

Strange carvings lined the walls—runes I didn’t recognize, some worn smooth, others pulsing faintly with residual magic.

There were broken pillars, shattered statues of winged beasts, and vines that curled around corners like waiting fingers.

Every sound felt amplified. Every breath like a beacon, and then—

A noise. Metallic. Deep. Echoing.

We stopped.

Around the bend just ahead, something moved—massive and slow. The ground trembled with its steps.

Then it appeared.

A towering suit of obsidian armor turned the corner, glowing red runes etched into its chest and helm. It stood at least ten feet tall, its frame impossibly broad, every movement grinding like stone against stone. It didn’t walk.

It hunted.

Samael reacted first.

“Run,” he hissed.

We obeyed.

We turned hard to the left, sprinting into a narrow corridor that barely allowed us single-file movement. The air turned sharp in my lungs as I ran, the sound of the creature’s pursuit echoing behind us. Stone cracked under its weight; its heavy steps relentless.

We didn’t know where the path led. We didn’t know if we were running toward danger instead of away.

Yet we ran anyway, because whatever it was—we couldn’t fight it.

Not yet.

The stone beneath my feet was slick with moss and cracked with age as we tore through the narrow corridor, the thunder of the obsidian knight’s footsteps shaking the walls around us.

Its roar—a soundless, vibrating tremor—rolled through the air like pressure, forcing our bodies to move faster even as panic clawed up my spine.

“Left!” Leander shouted, and we pivoted into another passage—narrower still. Vines clawed at my legs, and the cold scraped against my skin like teeth.

Bethany turned mid-run, thrusting her hand out. “ Expello! ”

A blast of raw energy exploded from her palm, striking the

Black Knight square in the chest—but it didn’t slow. The magic fizzled like a spark drowned in water, absorbed into the ancient armor like it had never existed.

“Again!” Lydia cried. “Try Ignis Vire! ”

Leander snarled the word and threw both hands forward, summoning a large wave of fire that rippled through the corridor —but the knight simply stepped through it, unaffected, the glowing red runes on its chest flaring brighter in response.

“It’s absorbing it,” Lydia breathed. “It’s immune—”

“No,” Samael growled. “It’s feeding off it.”

We ran harder.

The walls twisted around us like a living thing, branching off into passage after passage—some narrow enough to scrape shoulders, others widening into yawning openings that led into shadows and uncertainty.

We didn’t stop to choose carefully. We didn’t have the luxury.

We chose survival.

A split appeared ahead—three paths, all branching sharply.

The knight was gaining ground, its footfalls a death march behind us.

“We split up,” Samael said suddenly. “It can’t follow all of us.”

“No!” I shouted, already breathless, already terrified of losing sight of the others. “We don’t—”

The wall behind us exploded.

Stone rained down in chunks, and the sheer force of it slammed into the back of the group like a shockwave. We were thrown apart, scattered across the chamber like leaves in a gale.

Dust clouded my vision. I coughed, blind and disoriented.

“Elvana!” Lydia's voice echoed somewhere behind me, but I couldn’t reach her.

Through the haze, I saw him—Samael’s hand finding mine, gripping it tight.

“This way!” he shouted, pulling me toward one of the side passages as the sound of the knight grew louder, closer, deafening.

We darted through the passage just as the knight lunged into the room behind us.

The others—

I didn’t see where they went.

I didn’t know if they were safe.

I couldn’t go back.

Samael and I sprinted through the narrowing corridor, the walls pulsing faintly with dormant sigils and forgotten glyphs. The light from my still-burning Lucenara spell flickered wildly, reflecting in his eyes, casting wild shadows as we moved.

“We’ll find them,” he panted beside me. “We’ll find them once we lose that thing.”

I didn’t answer. My throat was raw from breathing so hard, my lungs aching from the cold, but fear kept me moving.

The walls around us twisted again, turning at angles that defied logic, looping back on themselves, only to open again into unfamiliar territory. Every turn looked the same, but none of it felt right.

The ruins were alive.

Not in the way a place breathes with history.

No.

They shifted.

They watched.

Now, we were lost inside them.

Alone.

Together.

Still being hunted.

The corridor opened without warning, and we stumbled into a vast, overgrown courtyard.

My breath hitched.

It must have once been beautiful—lush, carved with intent—but now it was hollowed out by time. The stone pathways were cracked and uneven, long reclaimed by wild roots and curling moss.

Dead trees clawed toward the sky, their bark bleached silver by the cold and wind, skeletal branches groaning in the breeze. A shattered well stood near the center, its rim split and crooked, the darkness inside bottomless.

Samael and I skidded to a stop, both panting.

There—we saw it.

Far beyond the courtyard walls, rising like a half-forgotten dream, stood a tower.

Ruined.

Debilitated.

Yet still standing.

Its top levels looked like they might collapse at any moment, but a faint, unmistakable glow pulsed behind its windows—a warm, golden light that flickered like a flame struggling against the dark.

“That’s it,” Samael said hoarsely, eyes locked on it. “That has to be where the relic is.”

I nodded once, chest still heaving. “Then we head there.”

We barely took two steps before the wall beside us shattered.

A howl of force sent chunks of stone flying as the obsidian knight crashed through the crumbling barrier. Shards of brick and dust filled the air, cutting through the dead stillness like thunder. Its halberd swung wide, catching the edge of the well and slicing it clean in half.

I screamed, yanking Samael back just in time to avoid being cleaved through the middle.

The knight turned on us, its crimson runes flaring brighter as if enraged.

“Go!” Samael shouted, but I was already ducking beneath the arc of the weapon, my legs scrambling across wet leaves and shattered bone.

The halberd struck again—missing me by inches—and embedded itself deep into the ground, sending cracks spidering through the earth.

Samael darted forward in a blur, eyes flashing with fury. “ Expello! ” he shouted, aiming for the knight’s chest.

The blast struck true—but it barely staggered the thing.

The knight turned toward him, slow, deliberate, towering over him like a statue come to life.

Its weapon arced again.

And hit.

“No!”