Chapter 169: Into the Ruins

The journey to the catacombs began at dawn, under a sky heavy with clouds. The city, still waking from the long night, seemed oblivious to the dangers brewing beneath its streets. Jay, Mira, the traitor, and the woman moved through the quiet alleys, avoiding any attention. Their destination was far below the surface, into the forgotten ruins that had been sealed off for centuries.

They stopped at an unmarked door at the edge of the city, hidden beneath layers of ivy and crumbling stone. Jay knelt to inspect the lock, an ancient mechanism that seemed more decorative than functional.

"This is it?" Mira asked, her voice skeptical. "It looks… abandoned."

The woman nodded. "It was abandoned for a reason. The catacombs aren't just forgotten—they're cursed. Anyone who has tried to enter has never returned. Isolde's power pales in comparison to what lies in those depths."

Jay glanced at her, his face set with determination. "Good. Whatever's down there will give us the weapon we need to stop her."

The traitor stepped forward, holding the ancient key they had used before. "Let's hope it works here, too." With a careful twist, the key clicked, and the door creaked open.

A cold gust of air rushed out from the darkness, carrying the musty scent of decay and damp earth. Mira shivered, but she kept her composure. Jay, on the other hand, felt a chill run down his spine. This place was different—older, more dangerous than anything they had faced before.

"Stay close," he ordered, drawing his sword. "We don't know what's waiting for us down there."

The traitor led the way, descending the stone steps into the darkness below. Their torches cast long shadows on the walls as they moved deeper into the catacombs, the silence oppressive and unnerving.

The further they went, the narrower the passages became. The walls were lined with ancient carvings, depicting scenes of battles long forgotten, kings who had ruled before memory, and symbols of power that had been sealed away. Jay couldn't shake the feeling that the carvings were watching them, as if the past itself was aware of their intrusion.

Mira paused, her eyes scanning the walls. "These symbols… they're like the ones we saw in the archives."

The woman nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "This place is where shadow magic began. Long before Isolde, long before the kingdom even existed, there were those who sought power in the dark. They were the first to wield the shadows, and they were the first to fall victim to them."

Jay tightened his grip on his sword. "And now, we're walking in their footsteps."

Hours passed, though it felt like days. The passages seemed to twist and shift, as if the catacombs themselves were alive. The deeper they went, the colder it became, and the light from their torches seemed to grow dimmer. Jay could feel the weight of the earth pressing down on them, the air thick with an ancient, suffocating energy.

Suddenly, the traitor stopped, holding up a hand. "We're here."

Before them stood a massive stone door, engraved with symbols that glowed faintly in the torchlight. The carvings on the door were different from the others—more intricate, more dangerous. They seemed to pulse with a life of their own, as if guarding whatever lay beyond.

"This is the entrance to the inner sanctum," the woman said, her voice trembling slightly. "Beyond this door is the relic we seek."

Jay stepped forward, inspecting the carvings. "How do we get in?"

The traitor pulled out a small dagger, the blade engraved with similar symbols. "This door requires a sacrifice of blood to open. The ancient magic here is tied to life and death, and it demands a price."

Jay didn't hesitate. He took the dagger from the traitor and sliced his palm, letting the blood drip onto the stone. As the blood touched the door, the symbols began to glow brighter, pulsing with a rhythmic, eerie light. The ground trembled, and with a deep, grinding noise, the door slowly began to open.

A blast of cold air hit them as the door fully opened, revealing a vast chamber beyond. The chamber was filled with towering statues of ancient figures, their faces obscured by the passage of time. In the center of the room, resting on a pedestal of black stone, was a blade.

The sword was unlike anything Jay had ever seen. It shimmered with an unnatural light, its edges sharp and jagged, as if forged from the shadows themselves. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather, and strange runes were etched along the blade's surface. The air around it seemed to ripple with power, and Jay could feel its pull, like a living thing calling to him.

"That's it," Mira whispered. "The shadow blade."

Jay stepped forward cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. As he approached the blade, the chamber seemed to grow darker, the shadows deepening around him.