The day was overcast when Elias descended into the lower wings of Blackthorn Manor, where few dared to tread without permission.
The Blackthorn Vaults were not buried beneath the manor like typical wizarding storerooms. No, they were carved into the cliffs beneath the estate, protected by generational enchantments and traps designed to repel thieves, intruders, and even some forms of magic itself.
Elias moved with purpose through the winding hallways, the walls of which bore old runes and flickered with dull golden torchlight. At the end of the final corridor stood an ancient obsidian door, veined with glowing emerald channels—pulsing slightly in rhythm with the magic that kept the vault sealed.
An aged house-elf, Varren, waited nearby with a small ceremonial blade on a cushion of dark velvet.
"Master Elias," he said, bowing low. "The vault awaits your command."
Elias accepted the blade and pressed the sharp edge to his palm, letting three drops of blood fall into a small silver basin carved into the wall beside the door. Instantly, the runes shimmered, and the obsidian slab began to shift and retract with the sound of grinding stone.
The door didn't open. It yielded—like the vault itself recognized who stood before it.
Inside, the temperature dropped noticeably. The air was dry, heavy, almost ancient in feeling. Shelves, cabinets, and stone plinths stretched down the hall, lined with protective charms, relics from the family's past, artifacts too volatile or too valuable to keep elsewhere.
Elias moved carefully, eyes scanning familiar items.
There was a golden tiara that whispered to him in Parseltongue—best ignored.
A leather-bound tome that dripped ink like blood—useless for now.
A wand that once belonged to an ancestor known for killing an entire vampire coven in Bavaria with a single spell.
Elias passed all of them.
He finally came to a small, rune-inscribed cabinet reinforced with alchemical seals. With a whisper and a touch of magic, it opened, revealing a protective device of remarkable craftsmanship: a compact, gold-and-silver armlet etched with fine red gems and rotating rune discs.
The Alchemical Aegis.
It shimmered faintly, reacting to his magical signature as he lifted it.
Once bound, it could absorb a limited number of spells—dangerous ones too, including curses and elemental magic—before needing to be recharged. It wouldn't stop a killing curse, but it could give Elias the edge he needed in the unknown dangers of Egyptian ruins.
He fastened it to his forearm, feeling it lock tightly and hum against his skin.
But as he turned to leave, something tugged at his thoughts—an instinct, quiet but persistent.
He made his way deeper into the vault, toward a pedestal covered in dark silk. Unlike the others, this item wasn't stored in a protective cabinet or caged in runes. It was set apart. Revered, almost.
Elias hesitated, then pulled back the silk cloth.
Beneath it lay a small, innocuous key—plain-looking, silver in hue, and glowing with a light that came from no visible source. It rested in a transparent crystal casing, which floated an inch above the pedestal.
The Master Key.
It was a relic passed down the family line for over five generations, used only once in each lifetime—or never at all. Forged by a forgotten magical artisan who died the moment he completed it, the Master Key could open any lock, pass any enchantment, and bypass any ward with a single use.
It was irreplaceable.
And yet… Elias stared at it, thoughtful. Egypt's deeper tombs were not only shielded with ancient magic, but the kind of protections that even modern curse-breakers feared. If he encountered a sealed passage tied to soul contracts or bloodline traps… this might be his only option.
"It's foolish to use it early," he murmured aloud to himself. "But it's more foolish to die proving a point."
He reached out and touched the crystal casing.
Immediately, the protective case dissolved into mist, and the key dropped into his palm like it had been waiting for him. A shiver ran up his arm as it attuned to his magical core.
It looked simple. But it was anything but.
He slipped it into a reinforced leather pouch at his belt, behind a sequence of protective charms.
Varren, who had been watching from a respectful distance, finally spoke.
"That key has not left this vault in over eighty years, Master Elias."
Elias nodded. "Then it's about time it saw the sun again."
He turned to leave, stopping only once to re-seal the vault with his blood and magic. The great obsidian door sealed itself with a low, rumbling finality.
As Elias emerged into the torch-lit corridor, the alchemical aegis snug on his wrist and the Master Key hidden on his belt, he felt a shift—not in the manor, not in the magic—but inside himself
The ancient vault door sealed behind him with a deep hum, and Elias emerged into the upper corridor of the manor's west wing—his footsteps light, but his mind weighed with the artifacts now in his possession. The Alchemical Aegis on his forearm pulsed with low magical resonance beneath his robes, and the Master Key—safely hidden in a spell-secured leather pouch—felt heavier than it should, as if its significance alone imbued it with gravity.
Lucian Blackthorn stood at the top of the wide stairway that curved around the western corridor. Dressed in a deep forest green robe embroidered in subtle silver thread, he looked every bit the statesman he was—cool-eyed, dignified, and always aware.
"You were down there longer than I expected," Lucian said, arching an eyebrow as Elias approached.
"I wanted to be thorough," Elias replied calmly. "I'll need more than basic charms if I'm to survive the inner sanctums of the tombs I plan to explore."
Lucian studied his son for a moment, his eyes briefly flickering to the shimmer of protective magic just beneath the sleeve of Elias's robes. Though Lucian could not see the Master Key, he didn't question what else Elias had taken. Trust, in the Blackthorn family, was not spoken often—but it was given when earned.
"Have you gathered what you need?" Lucian asked as the two began walking through the corridor toward the family study.
"I have," Elias confirmed. "The Aegis will serve me well. I don't expect to rely on it too often… but I'll be prepared."
They entered the wide, oak-paneled study—a room filled with ancient maps, floating quills, magical tomes locked behind glass, and a great fireplace that currently glowed with green flame. The scent of old parchment and fresh ink hung in the air.
Lucian motioned toward the sideboard, where a sealed envelope bearing the sigil of the International Confederation of Wizards rested.
"I've received confirmation," he said. "Your travel to Egypt has been approved through the appropriate channels. It wasn't simple, mind you—few students are granted unsupervised access abroad—but considering your lineage, your achievements, and... the special circumstances we discussed, they've allowed it."
Elias took the envelope but didn't open it. He didn't need to.
"Two days from now," Lucian continued, "you'll depart via Portkey. The Ministry will authorize it through our own diplomatic line, so there will be no checkpoint interference. You'll arrive directly outside the Cairo branch of Gringotts."
"Perfect," Elias said, already calculating what preparations remained. "I'll need to adjust my gear for the desert—spellbinding fabrics, sun wards, hydration charms. And I'll have to spend a day brushing up on Coptic glyph variations."
Lucian smirked faintly. "Your mother would approve. Though she'd likely insist you take a field crew with you."
Elias shook his head. "I'll be fine alone."
"Of course," Lucian said mildly. "Still, notify the family mirror once you make contact with the lead goblin at the vault. And Elias…"
Elias looked up, meeting his father's eyes.
"I know you. You're preparing for something far beyond archaeology or magical theory. I won't ask what. But remember: the ancient world isn't a school exam. Some locks are better left sealed—not because they cannot be opened, but because the knowledge within them demands a price."
"I understand," Elias replied. And he did.
He had no intention of taking foolish risks. Not yet. The Philosopher's Stone now in his possession would offer opportunities far greater than mere riches or immortality, but the tombs of Egypt hid secrets beyond imagination—and perhaps a key to something deeper: power forged not from blood, but from knowledge lost to time.
Lucian gave a small nod, satisfied.
As Elias made his way back toward his private wing of the manor, the weight of the coming journey pressed into him—but it wasn't fear. It was anticipation. In two days, he would stand beneath the Egyptian sun. Beneath stone monuments older than Hogwarts itself. Beneath shadowed chambers no light had touched in centuries.