Chapter 187: When Shadows Wept Beneath the Earth
The hidden chamber breathed around them, alive with secrets older than any kingdom that now stood above.
The walls hummed softly, their stone veins glowing faintly with blue and silver, as though they carried the heartbeat of a sleeping giant.
Fred and Lilia stood in stunned silence.
Only the distant sound of dripping water echoed through the vast emptiness, each droplet falling like a measured heartbeat counting down to something inevitable.
The air was cold but not cruel, heavy but not suffocating—it felt... sad, somehow.
As if the very stones mourned for everything that had been lost across centuries of forgotten wars and broken promises.
Fred's boots crunched softly over the dust of ages as he walked forward, his hand trembling slightly when he reached out to touch the mural of the winged warrior.
The texture beneath his fingertips was rough, ancient, and yet the figure's eyes—carved with such incredible precision—seemed almost alive.
Almost sorrowful.
Lilia stayed close behind him, her fingers brushing the dagger at her belt nervously.
Though the chamber was beautiful in a haunting way, there was an undeniable weight pressing down on them.
A feeling that they weren't just intruding on a forgotten tomb... but waking something that had chosen long ago to be left in peace.
"Fred..." Lilia's voice was almost inaudible. "Do you hear that?"
Fred strained his ears.
At first, there was only the faint crackle of the blue flames.
But then, carried faintly through the stone, he heard it: a melody.
A soft, aching song, woven from sadness and longing, as if a thousand broken dreams sang from the very roots of the earth.
Without thinking, Fred followed the sound.
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They came to an archway, half-collapsed with rubble, but just wide enough for them to squeeze through.
Beyond it stretched a smaller chamber, circular in shape, with a pedestal standing proudly at its center.
And on that pedestal lay something extraordinary.
A sword.
But not like any sword Fred had ever seen.
It hovered just an inch above the stone, untouched by dust or decay. Its blade shimmered like liquid starlight, constantly shifting and rippling. The hilt was wrapped in midnight blue leather, and a single jewel—an opal that seemed to contain a swirling storm—was set into its guard.
Fred could feel its pull immediately.
Not just to his body, but to his very soul.
It knew him.
The song grew louder, rising to a crescendo that made Fred's heart ache so badly he almost fell to his knees.
He stumbled forward, tears stinging his eyes without fully understanding why.
Each step he took toward the sword felt like walking through the memories of a life he had never lived—laughter echoing down forgotten corridors, battles fought beneath alien skies, a love lost too many times to count.
"Fred, stop!" Lilia cried, grabbing his arm.
Fred turned to her, and for a moment he looked... ancient.
As if the boy she knew had been replaced by a man who had seen worlds rise and fall.
"I have to," he said simply.
And he meant it.
The sword called to him not as a weapon, but as a companion—as a piece of himself that had been missing since the day he was born.
Fred reached out, his hand trembling, and closed his fingers around the hilt.
The world exploded.
---
Memories that weren't his own flooded his mind—battles waged in skies burned red with fire, creatures of shadow clawing at the gates of gleaming cities, a woman with eyes like the dawn weeping as she let him go, whispering promises he could no longer remember.
He screamed.
Lilia screamed too, watching helplessly as blue lightning crackled up Fred's arms, illuminating the veins beneath his skin like a map of constellations.
And then, just as suddenly, it stopped.
Fred collapsed to his knees, the sword clutched tightly in his hands, his breathing ragged and hoarse.
Lilia rushed to his side, her small hands frantically checking him for injuries.
Her eyes—those beautiful, stubborn eyes—were filled with terror and tears she refused to let fall.
"Fred! Say something, please—anything!"
He looked up at her.
And he smiled.
Not a triumphant smile.
Not a brave one.
A sad smile.
A smile of someone who knew he could never go back to being just Fred anymore.
"I remember," he whispered.
And somewhere, deep beneath them, the earth itself shuddered, as if recognizing the return of something it had long given up hope for.
---
They left the chamber in silence, Fred sheathing the sword against his back.
The once still air now thrummed with energy, like the final moment before a thunderstorm breaks open the sky.
When they emerged back into the library, the city above them was in chaos.
Smoke rose in thick black columns.
The bells tolled furiously, their clangor shaking the very bones of the city.
And the banners that flew from the palace had changed—from the royal blue of House Veylor to the crimson and black of rebellion.
The war had begun.
Fred looked out over the crumbling city, Lilia standing silently beside him, and felt a strange surge of emotions—grief, hope, guilt, courage—all tangled together into one unbearable knot.
He didn't know how he would win.
He didn't know if he would survive.
But he knew one thing for certain:
He would fight.
Because somewhere in the ashes of this dying city, there were still dreams worth saving.
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