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The door slammed behind me with a thunderous crack. I swore the floor shuddered beneath my feet. Just like that I was alone.. The last time I was alone with Lord Draco, my body had seized. Taken over by something unknown. Now, being deep underground with him felt closer to death than anything else.

Lord Draco approached, but I kept my eyes on the candles. The flames danced against the black brick, pulling my focus, anything to keep from unraveling. I couldn’t let my fear overtake me.

"Good evening, Prince Alexander," Draco greeted coolly, draping an arm over my shoulder as he reached me. He pulled me close to his side, firm and unceremonious. It was as if he felt the spike in me like his daughter. But his touch didn’t soothe.

"Good evening, Lord Draco. Who is your friend?" I asked, cutting straight to it. I finally looked. The figure stood tall and silent. They were too silent. It hadn’t moved, not once. The hair on my neck stood at how composed they had been, and how their scent reminded me of my own. Something was too familiar about them.

Lord Draco placed a finger to his lips to silence me, his eyes widening at the mention of the figure. Shaking his head his voice dipped into a whisper, “We need to go somewhere safer," glancing towards the other person. "Before we speak of who stands before you. We’ll go below."

Without thought, I said, "Then lead the way.”

The eagerness in my voice must have caught him off guard. Because he didn’t answer right away, Lord Draco just stared at me, blank and unreadable. The vagueness that seeped through for just a moment sparked a flare of temper deep within me. It was unreasonable, but even the brief silence made my chest burn.

"What are you looking at? I wasn’t dragged out of my life for blank stares, Lord Draco," I snapped. Admittedly, it had been bad-mannered, but it was warranted for his confusion. My eyes narrowed at him for a moment before a smile broke out on his face.

Shaking his head, his arm dropped from my shoulder. “Impatience, young one, is not a virtue,” he chuckled. “Follow me.” Turning on his heel, he strode to the far end of the room, heading for another door.

His ease about my outburst had me slightly embarrassed, but I wouldn’t admit it aloud. I stuck my chin in the air as I followed behind Lord Draco. The figure followed directly behind me. I had to keep my head from snapping back when its breath floated down my neck.

The entrance opened into another small back room, even darker than the last. Only four candles lit the space, one in each corner. Lord Draco strode to the back wall and pushed three bricks in its center. A small compartment clicked open, revealing a lever inside. Pulling it down, the floor groaned and shifted aside to reveal a narrow staircase descending into the earth.

Plucking a candle from the wall, Lord Draco kept one for himself and passed another to the figure. Then he turned to me, one hand extended toward the stairs. “Don’t be afraid,” he encouraged. “Come. Come.”

I felt like a small child as I followed his lead across the room and down the stairs. “What is this place?” I muttered, watching the spiral path twist ahead, my eyes tracing the strange marks on the walls. There were long jagged ridges in some of the stone, as if claws had torn at the raw material. Along the brick, taxidermies stared glass-eyed; short candles guttered from iron spikes above them. Even with the flames, the shadows clung tight to every corner, making the narrow space feel suffocating.

“We’re headed to the undercroft,” he said. “It’s charmed for private discussions. No immortal ear can penetrate through it. It’s more secure than my office, Prince Alex.”

I could only imagine how much protection someone needed from a conversation. Was what we were going to discuss more dangerous than I was? A child who was supposed to be dead? If that was the case, I didn’t know if I wanted to be a part of it.

“Understand this: though my staff is devoted to me, their loyalty still belongs to their king.” I gave a small nod, knowing exactly what he meant. It was the same feeling I had when it came to my scent. It didn’t matter who would want to know me. If the staff caught a scent tied to what they think will free them from a broken realm loyalty will be damned.

At the bottom of the stairs, I let Lord Draco take the lead again. He turned sharply left into a narrow hallway that ended in a stone wall. On either side were sets of heavy doors. Without hesitation, he chose the one in the exact center. We all fell in line behind him into the space. The room was empty—nothing but a single carpet laid out in the heart.

The rug wasn’t just décor. Its base was a low-cut, creamy white yarn, bordered in that same sapphire I kept seeing. At its center, the purity was stained, hardened into a color between muddy brown and oxidized crimson.

As we stepped closer, I saw how matted the fibers were, fused together by dried blood. The sight and the scent made my stomach almost hurl. There was just something foul about the aroma that emanated from it.

Lord Draco took the figure’s hand from beneath their cloak, then reached into his own and drew a small black dagger. The blade sliced deeply through the person’s flesh, and substantial amounts of blood pooled out, filling the air with the scent of the sweetest flower. The thread from earlier pulsated around me as his blood pooled freely before it sealed itself back.

Whoever was beneath the cloak didn’t make a sound. They clenched their hands tightly, letting the blood spill freely onto the carpet. I stood silently behind them, watching, curiosity prickling through my stillness.

Draco turned the blade on himself, slicing deep into his own palm. His expression didn’t change. He squeezed his hand into a fist, letting his blood drip into the same spot. When he finished, he turned to me. “Come,” he said, gesturing to the stain.

I hesitated, but something deep within pushed me forward.

Don’t be weak.

I approached Lord Draco, extending my hand and forcing my face still. "What does this do?" I asked, curiosity edging into my voice.

"Blood is the key. The only way in is through offering. If anyone tries to enter without sacrifice…”, he locked eyes with me, “the threshold takes its due—fire to ash.” Then, without pause, he drove the blade deep into my palm. My skin split cleanly, the muscle beneath slicing like softened butter. The pain was fleeting, but sharp while it lasted.

I curled my hand into a fist, letting the blood ooze freely and drip onto the rug. The carpet drank.

He swept it aside, revealing a hidden wooden hatch beneath it. Opening it, he gestured for me to go first.

A faint blue haze glowed above the passage, pulsing softly in the dark.

I climbed down, latching onto the iron ladder bolted to the wall. At the bottom, I stepped into a metal room. Weapons of every kind—arrows, swords, axes, and even modern-day guns—lined the walls. In the center stood a steel table, and above it, a shelf stacked with machetes.