Page 150 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

The land in the middle of the water was small, but big enough to hold a broken crypt. The boat halted and Magnus extended his hand forward to lift a glistening barrier. “The only thing protecting the tomb is my shields of magic, the veil was broken by Silas’s witch,” Magnus explained as we stepped on the small patch of land. He sighed and pointed forward. “Don’t ask me how because I can't tell you. No one can tell you how a young witch like her is able to break elder craft.”

“An Isjordian soldier had caught sight of her feeding on the beast's blood. Our Crafter thinks it belongs to Golgotha’s herd. Probably explains how Melanthe Delcour's skills have all of a sudden seem on par with her aunt’s.”

He shook his head. “Never had I thought a Delcour witch would stoop so low as to serve Silas let alone dirty her blood with a beast’s.”

Two soldiers pushed the broken stone of the crypt away to reveal a set of steep stairs descending downwards. The smell was of rotten flesh and salt. Something told me it didn’t belong to the Ybris buried down there. The corridors inside the crypt were wider than I’d thought and lush in stories drawn along the walls. Solaryans were storytellers and visual people. Impeccably talented at that. From what I gathered, the story told of the Ybris buried here. And it wasn’t a pretty one.

A green glowing speck splattered over one of the drawings caught my attention and I came to a halt. There was a dip in the stone of the wall under it, like a claw mark.

“I wouldn't touch it if I were you,” Magnus warned. “The fluid of that beast is corrosive. It will eat your flesh off.”

I unsheathed a dagger from my baldric and dipped the tip in it. “Are you saying this came from that beast?” The dark metal didn’t budge when I collected the liquid in its blade. Adriatian steel was a gift in a sense.

“Yes.” He pointed a hand further in the corridor. “There is more you need to see.”

Sheathing the dagger in its scabbard to preserve the liquid, I followed him. My feet halted when I noticed what laid ahead. Bones atop bones piled along the corridors, all above a puddle of viscous green. Human bones.

We reached the end of a corridor and Magnus placed his palm on the wall—it lit in golden streaks that spread all over the corridor walls in a maze-like pattern. Once the whole space was lit bright, the wall shifted to the side to reveal the actual Abendrot tomb. Six pillars rose to the high rocky ceiling, a bright cast of glittering dust floated in their middle carrying a small body dispersed in the air.

The form was almost as if it was alive, still preserved perfectly.

“Magi healers channelled his own magic to create a barrier around him that will protect the outer environment. Since all hybrid Aura magic is ever flowing, the shield around him feeds from it and will preserve all danger he presents, for eternity,” Magnus explained. He pointed behind the pillars, to a pile of large bones and teeth. “The Aitan sphynx, guardian of the tomb.”

The word around them built you to expect a grandiose ancient creature of power, but what had remained of it was no less than horrifying.

An Aitan sphinx burned unburnt. A gift Aidan, god of fire, had given to his long-time friend, Dyrin, the god of animals, who had moulded the creature from the earth of his own realm. These animals were rare. They carried the very essence of Dyurin’s heaven. They were dubbed the rulers of all animals. Not only because they were strong, but because they carried nine lives and nine souls. One gifted from each prime heaven in honour of them and their greatness.

I kneeled by the pile of remains and picked a heavy piece of what seemed like a fang. “How did it get past this?” For it to die, it had to have been killed nine times, one after the other.

“Nine times,” Magnus said, echoing my thoughts. “When we found it, it had nine wounds. All fatal.”

“And the heart? Where is its heart?” The heart of an Aitan Sphinx had no price. Not all of the gold of my kingdom could buy one. Its properties were endless. Some said it could feed immortality even to an unblessed. The magic of the nine heavens the sphynx carried stemmed from its heart. Even dead, the remnants of the raw magic were strong.

“Gone,” Magnus said. “It was expected. Silas would never miss such an occasion.”

Fuck. Another thing that in the hands of the Winter King that could turn into a fatal weapon.

Snow had been right to panic.

This wasn’t right. Something wasn't right. No, it felt terribly wrong. So wrong that the flow of mana shivered in the air.

I stood, almost dizzy. A sharp pain struck my chest and a palm went to my wounds.

“You are bleeding, son,” Magnus said, coming to my side and throwing my arm over his shoulder to balance me.

My lungs begged for air. “Show me the exit. Show me where the thing made its exit.”

Magnus shook his head. “You are too unwell. We can come back down after my Cora has a look at you.”

“My wife is in Isjord putting herself at great risk for this cause. The sooner I solve this, the sooner I have her back in my arms.” I shook my head attempting to ward off the dizziness. “Which way?”

Hesitantly, Magnus directed the two of us to further into the cave. Streaks of light filtered through coin sized holes in the cave walls. They intensified the further in we moved till they got big enough to fit a human body through.

I let go of Magnus and studied the trickles of the green viscous mucus in the ground that seemed to stop right before the adits leading to the open sea.

“From memory,” I asked. “How tall do you remember this thing to be?”

Magnus rubbed a hand over his greying beard. “I’d say about seven to eight feet.”