The Domini saga

The brass index jerks in Kynes's hand, then settles, pointing through the dark corridor toward the central desk. Beyond it, chained stone shelves loom in the vault like a prison for records.

The route is direct. The architects are still below.

Bren moves up beside him, one hand near her blade, eyes fixed on the black passage ahead. The crystal seal behind them stays dead, as if it has finally given up the room.

Kynes steps into the corridor. The air tastes of ink and old lightning, and the chains begin to rattle softly as the vault answers his approach.

At the far desk, a stack of sealed records waits under a thin veil of dust. The path to the architects is no longer hidden, only guarded.

Kynes stops at the desk and lets a thin smile touch his mouth. He says little, but the air around him changes.

Then the shadow under his boots spills outward, slow at first, then hungry. It climbs the chained shelves in black fingers, tasting dust and iron.

The Sea of Darkness blooms across the vault, filling the corridor with watching eyes and snapping mouths. The records tremble on the desk.

Something hidden in the dark answers back. A trail of cold intent breaks from the shelves and runs beneath the central desk, pointing past the seals and deeper below.

Bren tightens her grip beside him, but she does not flinch away. The vault's hush turns brittle, like glass about to crack.

The darkness finds a name carved into the hidden stone under the desk, and the chamber's wards begin to wake.