Alastair Von Vexx's Arc

Chapter 10 of 13

They walked the dim hall together, her hand in his, until the sarcophagus stood close enough to touch. Then Wisteria's fingers went slack. She folded down without a sound. Alastair caught at her, but she slid past him and came to rest against the wet stone, her cheek to the lid, her red glasses slipping free into the pale blue pool at its base. Through the bond he felt her go quiet — not gone, but distant, like a candle moved into another room. He knelt beside her and pressed two fingers to her throat. A pulse, slow and thin. He could not tell if the door had taken more than the ring, or if the water at the coffin's foot was drinking from her now. Both answers ended the same way. He had no time to choose between them. At the head of the soaked stone box lay a folded sheet, dry where everything else dripped. He lifted it. Names rose on its face in faint gold light — a list, generations long, in the same script as the door. Beside each name, a small mark. He found his father's hand. He found his grandfather's. At the bottom, fresh ink: a warning that what lay inside had been sealed by blood of his line, and would wake only when blood of his line bent close. Alastair closed the parchment. He gathered Wisteria up against his chest and carried her back through the open door, away from the coffin, away from the water. Her breath steadied against his collar by the time he reached the cavern. He laid her down on his folded coat and set the glowing list beside her. The thing his enemies had buried for him had a record now, and a name was waiting on it. He would not open the lid until she opened her eyes.