The vault's air was thick, alive with magic and history. Dust swirled in beams of light that filtered through ancient cracks in the stone ceiling. Beneath their boots, runes carved in old tongues pulsed faintly, as though remembering what had once been sealed here.
"This place is wrong," Celeste whispered, her violet eyes darting to the shadows.
Beckett stepped forward anyway, jaw tight. "Or it's exactly right."
He touched the door with the back of his hand. It didn't burn. It breathed. Warm, like skin.
"Did you feel that?"
Celeste hesitated, then reached out herself. The moment her fingers brushed the surface, the runes on the door brightened to a searing blue. A low hum filled the chamber.
"It's responding to you," she muttered.
Beckett frowned. "No. It's testing me."
The vault groaned.
From within the deep carvings came a voice. Not spoken aloud, but pressed directly into Beckett's mind.
Blood of the bound. Blood of betrayal. Prove thy right. Pay thy price.
