Bloodcrown

As the massive door opened, Freya stepped inside and was immediately struck by the sight before her. She had expected relics, grand statues, or perhaps ethereal manifestations of power. Instead, what greeted her were rows upon rows of beautifully crafted coffins, each adorned with intricate carvings and glowing with faint traces of energy.

"These," Catherine began, her voice calm and almost reverent, "are the sleeping ancestors of my family. We are immortal, Freya, but not invincible. When one of us grows weary of existence or chooses to step away, we enter eternal sleep. The only thing that can truly end us is if our legacy is claimed—or, as we call it, the Passing Bloodcrown, a final and true death."

Freya moved closer, her gaze sweeping over the countless coffins. "There are so many…" she murmured, awe creeping into her voice. By her count, there had to be over five hundred of them.