The dungeon beneath House Vaelthorn was older than the main keep itself.
Carved into bedrock and reinforced with spell-etched stone, it had been used by the first Dukes not for prisoners, but for secrets. Over time, it had become a prison. But in its deepest chambers, things older than guilt still lingered.
Kael descended alone.
A single torch burned blue in his hand, casting a cold flicker across the damp corridor.
Gennard was chained in the final cell, his magic sealed by six rings of nullstone forged in the capital. His face was bloodied but unbroken.
"You came yourself," he rasped.
Kael stepped into the light. "You were too arrogant to act alone. Start talking."
Gennard's laugh was low and rough.
"You think this is about power?"
Kael didn't answer.
"It's about correction, boy. Your father was the last fool to think the Vaelthorn bloodline could defy the Circle. They've always held the leash. You were never meant to be free."
"Yet here I stand," Kael said.
Gennard smiled.
"And soon, you won't."
He leaned forward, eyes glowing slightly with a sickly red hue—an after-effect of long-term exposure to forbidden enchantments.
"There's a room your father locked before he died. A vault beneath the thorn crypt. Even the Circle fears it. And now, you've awakened it."
Kael's eyes narrowed.
"What's inside?"
"A mistake," Gennard whispered. "One we buried in blood."
---
Later – Estate Records Room
Kael paced through the library with Lyra and Rin. Dust hovered in the air like breath from the dead.
"I need everything related to the Thorn Crypt," he said.
They dug through old ledgers, war maps, family trees… until Rin pulled a leather-bound journal from a rusted safe.
"Here."
Kael opened it. His father's handwriting.
The final entries were written with urgency, the ink jagged.
"The dagger whispers now. I've locked it behind the petals. It's tied to the crypt. I've sealed the vault with my blood and hers."
"If Kael ever finds this, tell him: the past is not dead. It sleeps beneath us."
---
Nightfall – The Thorn Crypt
The crypt was a forgotten place, hidden beneath the estate gardens, accessed only through a vine-covered hatch in the oldest greenhouse.
Kael led the descent with Lyra and Rin at his side. Thessa and Ives guarded the entrance above.
The air was heavier here. Every step felt like walking through oil and silence.
The crypt held a circle of statues—ancient Vaelthorn ancestors, their eyes covered by thorned crowns. At the center stood a stone pedestal… and upon it, a black seal marked by the same rune that pulsed on Kael's dagger.
He pulled it from his belt.
The dagger hummed.
Then—cracked.
A bolt of black light erupted, slamming into the pedestal. The seal shattered.
And the floor groaned.
A spiral staircase revealed itself beneath the stone.
Kael descended first.
The air below was colder. Older.
---
The Vault
The chamber at the bottom was vast, with walls etched in runes Kael couldn't read.
Floating above a bloodsteel altar was a crystal sphere.
Within it—a figure.
A boy. Maybe sixteen. Eyes shut. Arms folded. Black veins across pale skin.
He looked disturbingly… familiar.
Rin gasped. "Kael… he looks like—"
"I know," Kael said, stepping forward.
Inscribed on the altar in deep crimson:
He is the first and final Thorn.
He sleeps until the Vaelthorn curse is broken… or begins again.
Do not wake him.
Lyra looked at Kael, whispering, "Is that… a clone? Or something worse?"
"I don't know," Kael muttered.
But the dagger pulsed louder. It wanted to reach for the sphere.
Suddenly—
A shockwave burst through the vault. The sphere cracked. The air turned sharp.
The boy inside opened one eye.
It was red. Pure. And inhuman.
Then—
The light faded.
The cracks sealed.
The chamber went still again.
Kael's hand trembled slightly.
He sheathed the dagger.
"We're not ready for this."
Lyra exhaled. "What now?"
Kael turned back to the steps.
"Now… we find out what the Circle is really afraid of."
---
Closing Scene – Gennard's Execution
The next morning, Gennard knelt in the estate's execution courtyard.
The council gathered.
So did the nobles.
Kael didn't speak a long speech. He simply raised the Vaelthorn blade, now reforged with the bloodsteel core of the dagger, and struck cleanly.
The crowd was silent.
The old order had died.
A new one had begun.
And beneath the roots of House Vaelthorn, the past watched. Waiting.
---
End of Chapter 59