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He ignores my alarm, kneeling to examine one of the rising stone sections. “These are keystone triggers. They respond to specific magical signatures.” He looks up at me, his expression unreadable. “We need to activate them in the correct sequence to access the dimensional fold.”

“And if we get it wrong?”

The subtle shift in his posture tells me everything I need to know.

“Wonderful.” I scan the room, identifying the pattern of moving stones. They rise and fall in sequence, creating a complex dance of potential triggers. “Any idea what the correct sequence might be?”

“It would follow binding rune principles. Balance, containment, connection, release.” He points to different sections of the floor. “We need to activate these four stones in that order, within the same cycle. ”

The cycle seems to repeat approximately every thirty seconds, giving us a narrow window to hit all four triggers. I watch one complete sequence, memorizing the timing.

“You take the two on the left, I’ll handle the right,” I say, already moving into position. “On my mark.”

He nods, for once not arguing or questioning my lead. We position ourselves near our respective triggers, watching the pattern unfold once more to confirm the timing.

“Three, two, one, mark,” I call, dropping onto the first trigger point as it rises.

Dayn hits his simultaneously, and I feel the magical current shift around us. I count under my breath, tracking the seconds until I need to move to the second trigger. When I reach fifteen, I launch myself across the room, landing precisely as the stone rises to meet me.

Again, Dayn matches my timing perfectly. The blue glow in the walls intensifies, and the whining sound changes pitch, becoming almost musical. The concentric circles in the floor begin to rotate in alternating directions, creating a disorienting visual effect.

“It’s working,” Dayn calls over the noise. “The dimensional fold is beginning to open.”

The center of the chamber seems to blur, reality itself becoming indistinct as the fold forms. Through the distortion, I glimpse something solid—a pedestal perhaps, with an object resting upon it.

Suddenly, a new sound cuts through the chamber—a sharp cracking that echoes from all directions. The floor beneath my feet trembles violently, and several of the crystal fixtures crash down from the ceiling, shattering on impact.

“What’s happening?” I shout, dodging falling debris .

“The chamber’s protections are fighting the opening!” Dayn moves toward the center, where the dimensional fold continues to widen despite the increasing chaos. “The fold is unstable!”

A large section of ceiling gives way, massive stones plummeting toward us. I react instinctively, diving across the rotating floor sections to knock Dayn clear of the impact zone. We hit the ground hard, rolling away as the stones crash down where he had been standing.

“I thought you knew what you were doing,” I hiss, pulling myself to my feet.

“The chamber shouldn’t be reacting this way.” For the first time, I hear genuine confusion in his voice. “Unless—” He breaks off, scanning the walls with renewed intensity. “There’s a secondary trigger system. A failsafe we activated along with the fold.”

Another violent tremor shakes the chamber, and a fissure opens in the floor between us and the center where the dimensional fold continues to waver. Behind the fold, I can now clearly see a pedestal holding what appears to be a small, dark object—the Relic of Severance.

“We need that relic,” I remind him, calculating the distance across the growing fissure.

“We need to survive first.” Dayn points to a section of wall that has begun to glow red rather than blue. “That’s the failsafe trigger. If we can deactivate it, the chamber should stabilize.”

I follow his gesture, identifying the now-pulsing section of intricate metalwork. The patterns remind me of something I’ve seen before—not in Heathborne’s library, but in my grandmother’s grimoire. Blood magic principles repurposed into binding runes.

“I can disable it,” I decide, already moving along the edge of the room toward the glowing section.

“How?” Dayn’s skepticism is clear even through the chaos.

“Just keep that fold open!” I reach the wall, examining the pulsing runes up close. They’re indeed a hybrid system—ancient binding magic infused with more recent blood-based protections. A trap designed specifically to kill anyone trying to access the relic.

I pull my knife from its sheath, examining its edge in the fluctuating light. Not ideal, but it will serve the purpose. With practiced precision, I slice across my palm, letting blood well up before pressing my hand directly against the center of the pattern.

The reaction is immediate. The red glow intensifies, burning against my skin, but I hold firm, focusing my will through the blood connection.

I’m not using darkblood magic exactly—that would be detected instantly by Heathborne’s wards—but something older, something my grandmother taught me that walks the line between tradition and instinct.

The pattern fights me, trying to complete its deadly sequence, but blood responds to blood. The runes begin to dim, their power redirecting through my offered sacrifice rather than into the chamber’s destruction sequence.

When I finally pull my hand away, the wall has gone dark, and the violent tremors subside. The dimensional fold at the center stabilizes, its edges crisp and clear rather than wavering.

Dayn stands at the edge of the now-stationary fissure, staring at me with an expression I can’t quite interpret. “How did you know that would work?”

I wipe my bloodied palm on my pants, the cut already clotting. “Salem family tradition. We’ve been dismantling clearblood traps for generations.”

He studies me a moment longer before turning back to the dimensional fold. “The relic is accessible now, but the fold won’t remain stable for long.”

I move to stand beside him, looking across the narrow fissure to where reality bends around the ancient pedestal. “So how do we reach it?”

“We don’t.” Dayn pulls a small crystal from his pocket. “We bring it to us.”

He holds the crystal up, angling it so light reflects through its facets and into the fold.

The beam seems to stretch impossibly, crossing the dimensional barrier to touch the relic on its pedestal.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then the small dark object—what I can now see is a polished stone disk etched with intricate markings—begins to glow in response.

“Is it working?” I ask, watching the interaction of light and shadow.

“Wait.” His concentration is absolute, the crystal held steady in his unwavering grip.

Slowly, the disk begins to move, sliding across the pedestal toward the edge of the fold.

It hovers there momentarily, caught between dimensions, before suddenly shooting forward through the opening.

Dayn catches it with his free hand as the dimensional fold collapses behind it, reality snapping back into place with an audible crack.

The chamber grows quiet, the blue glow fading from the walls, the floor settling back into its original pattern. Only the fallen debris and the fissure running through the center of the room remain as evidence of our intrusion.

Dayn examines the relic, turning it carefully in his hands. The disk is perhaps three inches in diameter, made of a material I don’t recognize—neither stone nor metal, but something that seems to absorb rather than reflect the dim light.

“The Relic of Severance,” he confirms, his voice hushed with something like reverence. “One of the original artifacts used to create binding runes.”

I stare at the unassuming object, surprised by its simple appearance given its significant power. “And this will break your connection to Mazrov? Disrupt Heathborne’s entire Emissary program?”

“With the proper ritual.” He carefully wraps the disk in a cloth before securing it in an inner pocket of his coat. “Which brings us to the next challenge.”

I glance toward the sealed entrance of the chamber. “Getting out of here?”

“That’s the least of our concerns.” He gestures to the walls around us. “The chamber’s activation will have triggered alarms in the main security system. We have perhaps fifteen minutes before security forces arrive.”

“Then we should move.” I turn toward where the entrance had been, studying the seamless stone. “Can you reopen the passage?”

Dayn’s eyes scan the room, and suddenly he moves to a different section of wall, where he presses his palm against a pattern in the inlay.

The stone ripples beneath his touch, revealing a narrow opening barely visible in the dim light.

“Looks like we have an emergency exit. Probably created for the original builders, hopefully long forgotten by current security.”

I raise an eyebrow, genuinely impressed despite myself.

He slips through the opening, and I follow close behind, finding myself in an even narrower passage than the one we arrived through. This one feels older, the stone worn smooth by centuries of occasional use. It winds upward at a steeper angle, with no enchanted sconces to light our way.

Dayn produces a small orb of amber light that hovers above his palm, casting just enough illumination to guide our steps. The passage bends and twists, occasionally branching, but he navigates with unwavering confidence.

“The relic on that wall,” I say after we’ve walked for several minutes. “You didn’t know I could disarm it.”

“No.” His admission comes reluctantly. “That was... unexpected.”

“You were going to let me die in that chamber.”

He glances back at me, his expression unreadable in the amber glow. “I was calculating the odds of reaching the relic before the chamber collapsed. Your survival wasn’t my primary concern.”

“At least we’re honest about where we stand.” I match his pace, refusing to fall behind. “I’d do the same if our positions were reversed.”

“I know.” Something like respect colors his tone. “It’s why this alliance works. We both understand its limitations.”

We continue in silence after that, ascending through the forgotten veins of Heathborne Academy, each step bringing us closer to the next phase of our dangerous plan.

The Relic of Severance is secured, but obtaining it was the easy part.

The unbinding ritual still lies ahead, and with it, the true test of our unlikely partnership.