The tomb was silent again. That heavy, ancient kind of silence that didn't feel like the absence of noise—but more like the presence of everything that had once echoed in the chamber. Dust and breath and time all seemed to settle over Liam and the queen as they sat, side by side, on the edge of the king's sarcophagus.
The air was cold down here. Not just in temperature, but in feeling. Like the walls had seen too much. Like the stones remembered every betrayal, every war, every crown that ever rusted. And now, they waited… to see if one more soul would crumble beneath their weight.
Liam sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, his fingers knotted tightly together. He stared at the treasure across the chamber—the strange, glowing relic that pulsed like a living thing. The final test waited there. He could feel it. It had a pull to it, something that tugged at the center of his chest like a fishing hook through flesh.
