Reign Shadowfell's Arc

Chapter 12 of 29

Johan led them down a corridor Reign had not yet walked. The old man moved without hurry, one hand trailing the wall as if counting doors he remembered. Vixen kept close on Reign's left. Lyla walked behind with her eyes on every shadow. The imp padded at the rear, ears flat. At the end of the hall Johan stopped and stepped aside. The door was taller than the others and cut from black wood banded in iron. In its center, worked into the metal, was the same raven and ouroboros that hung against Reign's chest. Johan spoke without looking at him. "Only the blood of the true heir opens this door. If you are not what you say, the door will kill you where you stand. It has been closed sixteen years. No one has tried it since your father shut it." He glanced at Vixen. "Only him. Not her, not the girl." Reign drew the small knife from his belt. Vixen's hand closed on his wrist for one breath, then let go. He cut across his palm. The blood welled fast. He set his hand flat on the iron handle. The metal drank the blood the way dry stone drinks water. The red went into the raven's eye and did not come back. Reign felt the pull travel up his arm and stop at the amulet against his chest. Inside the door something groaned. A weight shifted, deep, like a chain uncoiling in a well. A click sounded, then another, then a third. The door swung inward on its own hinges. Cold air came out that smelled of paper and old smoke. Johan let out a breath he had been holding a long time. He bowed his head once and did not follow. Reign took Vixen's hand and stepped through. The room was small and lined with shelves. A desk stood in the center under a shuttered window. Papers were stacked on it in neat piles, held down by a stone the color of dried blood. A ledger lay open where his father had left it. Reign could see writing in a hand he did not know. On the near shelf sat a portrait, half turned to the wall. A woman with dark hair. His hand tightened on Vixen's without meaning to. The amulet at his chest had gone warm. Behind him Johan spoke from the hallway, quiet. "He wrote until the night he died, my lord. Every name that mattered is in this room. Some of them are still breathing." Reign did not turn. He walked to the desk, set his bleeding hand on the ledger, and began to read.