crimson shadows

part 7

### **Part Seven: Secrets of the Archives**

The corridors of the Archives seemed endless, winding deeper into the bowels of the ancient structure. Each turn brought new shadows, new whispers that seemed to swirl around Elara and Lucian like a tangible force. The encounter with the Keeper still haunted her, the warning in those cold, glowing eyes echoing in her mind.

They finally reached a large, ornate door engraved with symbols that pulsed faintly in the dim light. Lucian paused, glancing at Elara. “This is it,” he whispered. “The restricted section.”

Elara nodded, steeling herself. Her hand brushed over the hilt of the Dagger of Descent, and she felt a surge of reassurance as its power thrummed beneath her fingers. Whatever was beyond this door, she had to be ready.

Lucian pushed the door open slowly, and they stepped inside.

The room beyond was vast, its high, vaulted ceiling disappearing into darkness. Shelves filled with ancient tomes lined the walls, and in the center of the room stood a large, circular table covered in maps, scrolls, and strange, glowing artifacts.

“This is incredible,” Elara breathed, her eyes wide as she took in the sheer magnitude of knowledge stored here.

Lucian nodded, his gaze scanning the room. “The most dangerous and forbidden texts are kept here. If there’s any information on the Bloodstone, it’ll be in this room.”

They moved to the table, their eyes flicking over the scattered documents. Elara reached for a scroll covered in dense, spidery handwriting, her pulse quickening as she read the words.

“It’s a ritual,” she murmured, her brow furrowing. “A binding ritual… but it’s incomplete.”

Lucian leaned over her shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he read the ancient script. “It’s a blood binding ritual, meant to seal the power of a Bloodstone inside a vessel. But the missing part—” He shook his head. “It’s too risky without the full incantation. One wrong word, and it could kill you.”

Elara felt a chill run through her. “But if we found the complete ritual, it could seal Victor’s power?”

“Possibly,” Lucian said, his voice cautious. “But it would be dangerous. And we don’t know if it would work on someone like Victor.”

Before Elara could respond, a faint sound reached them—a soft, almost imperceptible click, like the creak of a floorboard. She turned sharply, her heart leaping into her throat.

A figure stepped out from the shadows, his tall form silhouetted against the dim light. His eyes were cold, gleaming with a cruel amusement.

“Victor,” Elara whispered, her voice barely audible.

Victor smiled, the expression sending a shiver down her spine. “I knew you’d come here eventually, Elara. You and your little friends, always meddling in things beyond your comprehension.”

Lucian moved to stand between Elara and Victor, his stance protective. “Stay back,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Victor’s smile widened, a cold, predatory look. “So noble, Lucian. Always the hero.” His gaze shifted to Elara, his eyes narrowing. “And you, dear Elara. So brave, so stubborn. Do you really think you can stop me?”

Elara tightened her grip on the dagger, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I have to try,” she said, her voice steady.

Victor’s eyes flicked to the dagger, and his smile faded. “Ah, the Dagger of Descent. I see Seraphine has been filling your head with fantasies of grandeur.” He stepped closer, his voice a low, menacing growl. “Do you know what happens to those who wield that blade without understanding its true power?”