After a forbidden night with Ser Criston Cole, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen is forced by her father, King Viserys, to drink the moon tea and protect her honor. To shield her image further, she weds Ser Laenor Velaryon, and together they move to Drift...
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Present Time
Somewhere Deep, Valyrian Castle
The group descended in silence, their footsteps echoing against the stone as the spiral seemed to stretch endlessly downward. The air grew cooler, heavier, until even their torchlight felt muted against the thick darkness.
"What is it, Hermione?" Dahlia asked suddenly, her voice carrying back without her turning her head.
"What?" Hermione startled, clearly caught off guard. "What do you mean? I haven't said anything!"
"You don't have to," Ron muttered. "Anyone who's known you the last eight years knows you've got a fact or a lecture for every occasion." His tone was teasing, but it rang with truth.
"I do not!" Hermione protested, her voice rising indignantly.
"Yes, you do!" the rest of them chorused in perfect unison.
"Oh, shut up!" she huffed, but their snickering made her lips twitch despite herself. Then she sobered. "I just... I can't help thinking we shouldn't be going down here alone. We don't know how deep this is, or where it leads—or what we'll find waiting at the end."
Ron's voice, for once, was firm and sure. "Hermione, we fought Dementors. We stood up to Umbridge. We faced Death Eaters and survived the bloodiest war our world has ever seen. If anyone can handle what's down here, it's us." His expression hardened, his wandlight catching the steel in his eyes. "We're protectors. We're warriors. Be brave, Hermione. Be strong."
For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound was their footsteps, steady and slow, as they continued downward. The weight of Ron's words lingered in the air like a shield around them.
At last, the staircase ended. The steps leveled out into a wide stone tunnel stretching forward, swallowed in shadows.
The tunnel stretched on like a hallway carved from the bones of the earth—long, narrow, its walls rough with ancient brick and stone. Yet, impossibly, torches burned all along its length, flames flickering steadily as though untouched by time.
Magic lingered thick in the air, raw and undeniable.
A low rushing sound echoed through the passage, soft at first, then louder, filling the silence.
"Is that... water?" Ginny asked, craning her neck to peer up at the curved ceiling, disbelief etched in her voice.
Neville's eyes widened as he studied the walls. "It feels like the whole tunnel runs beneath water—maybe under a lake, or even a river." His tone carried both wonder and unease.
"I still can't believe it," Hermione muttered, her voice quickening with excitement despite the setting. She ran her fingers over the stone, her expression alight. "This tunnel must be centuries old, and yet the structure—look at it! The craftsmanship is remarkable. The design mirrors architecture we'd call modern back home. It's strong, deliberate, impossibly detailed for the time it must have been built!"
