Chapter 10: The Book of Ashes

At dawn the next day, the monastery bells tolled slowly as snow whitened the sky. Wrapped in a cloak, Aveline stood alone under the inner courtyard's corridor, gazing at the distant mountain path buried in snow, her thoughts as dense as winter fog.

Lucian approached from behind, draping a fur-lined mantle over her shoulders. He said nothing, only took her hand, transferring steady warmth.

"Last night I read Father's journal ending about the 'Book of Ashes,'" she turned to him, eyes resolute. "It's hidden beneath the monastery altar. If true, we must find it."

Lucian nodded, and they stole toward the sealed main chapel.

Ancient columns upheld the dome, air thick with dust and a blend of sanctity and decay. Aveline approached the altar, hands brushing the stone surface incised with prayers, fingertips stopping at a slightly sunken spot.

"There's a mechanism here," she whispered.

Lucian drew his dagger, inserting it into the groove to twist. With a click, the altar shifted, revealing a secret passage to the cellar.

Descending together, torches cast leaping shadows on the walls. Deep in the cellar, an iron-bound chest rested in a niche. Aveline opened it to find a thick book smothered in ashes and wax seals.

Flipping through, they found decades of records: secret trials, fire mark executions, and minutes from the Regent's closed-door meetings with two privy councillors. Every name, every verdict, was shocking.

"He documented everything," Aveline murmured. "Not just loyalty, but betrayal too."

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from above. Lucian snuffed the torch, pulling her into the shadows.

Several black-cloaked figures burst in, wearing emblazoned mantles and face coverings. They scanned the room as if searching for something. Aveline held her breath, fingers tightening in Lucian's palm. She felt his muscles tense, ready to strike.

After the figures left, they relit the torch.

"They came too fast," Lucian whispered. "The Regent must have tracked us."

"This book can't stay here," Aveline declared. "I'll take it back to the capital and expose the truth publicly."

Back in their chamber, they hid the book in the trunk's false bottom. As dusk fell, the monastery lay deathly still. Aveline washed, changed into a night robe, and sat by the bed, staring at the book in silence.

Lucian approached, kneeling before her, resting his forehead on her knees: "The burden on your shoulders—let me share it."

She stroked his hair, murmuring: "We might lose everything."

"Then let them know we're willing to," he said, raising his head to kiss her palm, then trailing upward, gently yet firmly pushing aside her robe to draw her into his arms.

His lips traveled from her collarbone to her chest. She gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. He knew her every response yet still explored carefully, melting her in the hottest depths of the snowy night.

Bed curtains hung low as breaths and whispers ebbed and flowed. Throwing her head back in his embrace, she moaned dreamily: "If I'm fated to topple the crown—"

"Then I am your blade's sheath."

He growled as he breached the last defense, controlling every taut muscle in her back. Flames burned in the night, and there was no turning back.