Alastair Von Vexx's Arc

Chapter 12 of 13

The voice in Wisteria's throat broke off. Her eyes cleared, and she sagged against Alastair's arm, blinking like a child pulled from cold water. He held her steady and watched the dark hall behind her. The sarcophagus lid sat askew. Pale blue water spilled in a slow tongue across the stone floor. Alastair eased Wisteria down and rose. Wet prints marked the floor. Bare feet, narrow, a man's stride. They did not lead toward the sealed door behind him. They led the other way, deeper into the dark, each print clear and shining and shrinking as it went. He stepped to the edge of the coffin. Something small caught the light there. A silver band rested on the wet stone lip, the family crest cut deep into its face. His brother's ring. Not dropped. Set down, careful, square to the edge. Left on purpose. Alastair closed his fingers around the cold silver. His brother had been here, in flesh, and had walked away on his own feet while Alastair fought to keep Wisteria breathing. The trail led into a tunnel he had not known existed. He slid the ring onto his smallest finger, lifted Wisteria into his arms, and turned toward the dark the prints had taken. The coffin was empty. The hunt had moved.