The vault of silent flames

🌕 Moonblood: The Curse of Arodan

Chapter Forty-eight: 48

The tunnel ahead seemed to breathe. Walls of black stone pulsed faintly with light, like veins under skin. As Draven, Kael, and Morgha stepped forward, silence wrapped around them—not the silence of peace, but the heavy hush of a place that had not heard a voice in centuries.

Draven clutched the moonstone dagger, its edge humming faintly with energy. He could feel the curse inside him stirring again, no longer dormant, no longer sleeping. Something in this place called to it.

"Where are we now?" Kael asked, his voice quiet.

Morgha ran her hand along the stone. "We're inside the oldest part of Arodan. This is where the First Circle hid the forbidden flames—magic so strong, it was sealed away even from their blood."

They reached a wide iron door, blackened by time and marked with strange burns. Symbols of moons and fire circled the edges.

Draven stepped forward, and as his hand touched the surface, the door lit up. The moonmark on his skin glowed in response. Slowly, the door groaned open, revealing a grand vault.

Inside, the air shimmered with heat, though no fire was visible.

Instead, flame floated—silent and still—in orbs around the room. They hung in the air like frozen drops of light, red and blue and white, their glow casting dancing shadows on the stone walls.

In the center of the room stood a massive brazier, unlit, surrounded by seven stone thrones.

Each throne was carved with a different creature—wolf, owl, stag, serpent, bear, raven, and lion. Each was a house of the old bloodlines.

Morgha's eyes widened. "This is the Circle's seat. This is where they judged, ruled, and punished."

Kael stepped closer to the brazier. "And this… is where they lit the Curse."

Draven felt drawn to it. As he approached, the orbs of flame began to swirl faster, their colors blending into a storm. The curse in his blood reacted wildly now, burning in his chest, his veins.

A voice echoed—deep, ancient, and filled with sorrow.

"Blood awakens flame. Flame awakens truth."

Draven's knees buckled as visions flooded him again—this time, violent.

He saw the seven bloodlines, once united, turning on each other.

He saw a secret betrayal—one member of the Circle making a deal with something outside the realm of men, something from the stars.

He saw a child born of that deal—marked by both moon and shadow.

He saw himself.

Kael caught him before he fell completely.

"What did you see?" Morgha asked.

Draven looked up, his face pale. "The Curse wasn't just a punishment. It was a weapon. And someone is still trying to use it."

As he spoke, the flames suddenly converged on the brazier.

With a rush of heat and a burst of light, it lit.

But it was not a normal fire. It was silver and black—twisting, living, whispering.

The thrones around them shook.

From the flame rose a face—not solid, not whole. It was the Echo of the First Flame. A memory so powerful, it had become alive.

"Bearer of Moonblood," the Echo spoke. "You are nearing the center of what was broken. What you rebuild will shape what comes next."

Draven stood tall. "Then tell me what I must do."

"You must gather the Circle again," the Echo said. "Find those who carry the blood, even if it has thinned. Only unity can stop the storm that comes. The Curse will either bind you… or break the world."

Then the flame dimmed, and the Echo vanished.

Draven turned to his friends. "We need to leave. We need to find the others."

Kael raised a brow. "What others?"

Draven looked back at the thrones. "The other heirs of the Circle. They're out there. And the enemy… the real one… is moving faster than we are."

Morgha nodded slowly. "Then we begin the hunt."

The three left the Vault, the silver-black flame still burning behind them.

And far above, in the spires of Arodan, a shadow opened its eyes.