Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 617 of 619

Ajax knelt by the stone table. Elara's necklace lit the space beneath it. A seam ran across the floor there, sealed with old iron rings. Something breathed under the stone, slow and deep. Chalam crouched beside him and set his staff to the seam. The wood hummed, then went still. "It sleeps," Chalam said. "The rings hold it. But two are cracked. The rest will follow." He touched the iron with one finger and drew back. "This is older than my father knew of. Older than the gate we broke." Ajax looked at the sealed floor. Two choices lay before him. He could reseal it with his blood and leave, buying three more centuries of quiet. Or he could open it now, on his own ground, with his crew ready and the light steady. Once he chose, there was no other way. "If I reseal it, someone comes later and opens it blind. Like the well." "Or it breaks on its own," Chalam said. "Two days, maybe three. Then it comes up in the dark with no one watching." He met Ajax's eyes. He did not soften it. "I can hold the seam while you open it. Or I can pour lodestone and close it. I will not tell you which. Both carry risk. I have been wrong before." Ajax remembered the cracked staff, the two weeks Chalam lost at the inn. The wizard never hid that from him. It was why he trusted the man's plain word now. He weighed the sealed floor, the sputtering torches, the dry cave. Down here he held every part of the fight. Above, he held none. "We open it," Ajax said. "On my mark, with my men set. Not two days from now when it wakes hungry." Chalam nodded once. He opened his satchel and took the first numbered vial. "Then set your men. Rowan on the stair with his bow. Kael and Torren at my back. Elara's light on the seam." He looked up. "When I break the rings, it will come fast. Your blade in its mouth, or nothing." Ajax stood and gave the orders. Rowan climbed to the bend with an arrow nocked. Kael and Torren flanked the table, blades low. Elara raised the necklace over the seam. The stones burned white and blue across the cracked iron. Ajax drew his father's blade and set his boot against the table. He cut his palm. Blood ran to the edge of the seam. "Now," he said. Chalam struck the rings with his staff and spoke the closing word backward. The iron split. The stone under the table shifted. Something long and pale pushed up through the gap, and the cave filled with the smell of cold earth. Ajax raised the blade. The choice was made. The door his father never touched stood open now, and whatever slept below was rising into his light.