The Spell Thief Vol.1

Chapter 4: The Crypt of Whispers

The streets of Lunaris were quieter than usual as Aldara made her way through the city, her cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders. The pale glow of the floating lanterns cast long shadows over the cobblestones, and the distant hum of magic was barely noticeable. It was late, and the city was asleep—or at least, most of it was.

Aldara's thoughts raced as she navigated the winding alleys and darkened pathways, her destination looming ahead like a dark secret. The Crypt of Whispers. It wasn't a place spoken of openly in Lunaris, even among the most experienced mages. To most, it was simply a myth, a fable whispered about in hushed tones. But tonight, it was more than that. It was her only lead.

She'd always known the Crypt existed. Rumors of its power had circulated within the Mage Guild for years, but no one had ever openly admitted to finding it. Now, with Vaelor's name resurfacing and the growing threat of forbidden magic, Aldara couldn't afford to dismiss it as a mere legend. If what Thaleos had said was true, then the Crypt held the key to understanding who—or what—was behind the recent events.

Aldara glanced up at the sky, the stars barely visible through the thin veil of clouds. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, though no one was around. The city was a living thing, full of eyes and ears, and in the upper district, where the influence of the Mage Guild was strongest, secrecy was a fleeting luxury.

Her hand instinctively brushed against the hilt of her dagger as she turned down a narrow alleyway, the air growing cooler as she descended into the lower parts of the city. The Crypt wasn't in the heart of Lunaris—it was buried deep below, in the forgotten catacombs that stretched beneath the city like the roots of a great, ancient tree.

The entrance to the catacombs was hidden, tucked away in the old part of town, where the remnants of Lunaris's original architecture still stood. The buildings here were crumbling, their stones worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain. It was a part of the city that few ventured into anymore, especially at night. The Guild had no reason to come here, and most citizens considered it cursed ground.

Aldara stopped in front of an old, rusted gate, the iron twisted and bent as if it had been untouched for years. Behind it, a set of narrow stone stairs descended into the darkness. This was it. The entrance to the Catacombs of Ylith, the ancient burial grounds that predated even the city's founding.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself before pushing the gate open. It creaked loudly in the silence, the sound echoing through the empty streets. The stairs were cold under her boots, and as she descended, the air grew damp and heavy with the scent of earth and decay.

The walls were lined with ancient carvings, symbols from a time long forgotten. Aldara had studied many of them during her time at the Guild, but even now, some of the markings were unfamiliar. The deeper she went, the more she could feel the weight of the magic that lingered in these walls—old, powerful, and forgotten by time.

At the bottom of the stairs, she reached a wide stone passage, the ceiling high above her head, supported by massive pillars carved with the same runes. Torches flickered in iron sconces along the walls, their flames enchanted to burn without end. This part of the catacombs was still maintained, though by whom, Aldara wasn't sure.

She moved quietly, her senses heightened as she pressed further into the crypt. The air here was colder, the oppressive silence broken only by the occasional drip of water from the stone ceiling. As she walked, her mind drifted back to what Thaleos had said.

Vaelor's magic wasn't just dangerous—it was alive. It had a will of its own, something that defied the laws of magic as they were understood. If someone had discovered how to control it, or worse, if they had unleashed it without understanding the consequences, Lunaris—and perhaps the entire world—was in grave danger.