The earth trembled beneath their boots as Franklin and Brenda pressed deeper into the catacombs. Dust and debris rained from lower vaults, collapsing partially sealed tunnels behind them. The air was colder here, so frigid that their breath froze in ragged clouds. Each step echoed like a heartbeat in a tomb alive with restless power.
Brenda held the lantern high, its flicker trembling against rough‐hewn walls etched with half‐erased runes. "This way," she whispered, tracing a finger along a jagged inscription. "It leads to the central chamber where the seal awaits."
Franklin moved beside her, sword drawn, senses taut for ambush. His immortal blood thrummed with the echo of Solorth's influence, an itch beneath his skin that urged him to draw on the ancient power. He clenched his jaw, refusing to surrender to dark temptations.
A sudden gust snuffed the lantern. Total darkness pressed in, and a chorus of distant whispers swelled around them. Franklin's hand shot out, finding Brenda's arm. "Stay close."
Footsteps stirred in the black. Shapes detached from shadows: skeletal figures clad in rusted armour, empty eye sockets aglow with pale light. The undead guardians of the old kings, bound to Solorth's will, advanced in ragged formation.
Brenda struck first, her blade slicing through the bone with a wet crack. Franklin's sword met the next skeleton mid‑thrust, sparks of ancient magic flaring at the point of contact. Each strike rang like thunder, steel colliding with bone as they fought side by side.
Cries of shattered ribs and splintered bone echoed off the walls. Franklin pivoted, driving his blade upward, severing a guardian's spine. A spray of brittle fragments rained across his boots. He tasted iron on his tongue, old and bitter.
Brenda ducked under a swinging blade, delivering a swift counterstrike to another skeleton's skull. "Keep moving!" she hissed.
They sprinted down a narrowing corridor, bodies falling behind them. The lantern's glow revealed a yawning arch ahead. At its center, a polished granite door stood flush against the wall, its surface carved with concentric circles of unbinding glyphs.
Franklin paused at the threshold, catching his breath. "The seal is here," he panted.
Brenda nodded, but her eyes darted to a small keyhole etched into the door's centre. "It's locked by spirit wards. We need a living soul to turn the key."
Franklin placed his palm on the cold stone. He felt the seal's heartbeat, a quivering tension waiting to snap. "Then we turned it together." He closed his eyes, drawing on the fragile courage that had carried him through centuries of regret.
Brenda slid close, her breath warm against his cheek. On three. "One… two… three." They pressed their hands into the keyhole. Light flickered beneath their palms, smoke curling up around the carved circles.
A roar thundered behind them as the catacombs convulsed. The door shuddered, then swung inward on silent hinges. Beyond lay a vast chambepillars of bone rising like trees in a spectral forest, and at its centre, a stone dais holding the shattered fragments of an oval seal.
Shards of the sigil glowed faintly, disjointed pieces of a rune meant to bind Solorth's essence. Franklin stepped onto the dais. Every fragment hummed, resonating with his immortal blood. He exhaled slowly, willing himself to calm.
Brenda watched, blade at the ready. "What now?"
Franklin knelt before the fragments, plucking each rune‐etched shard from the dais. His fingers trembled as he fit them together, recalling the sequence taught by his mother's hand. The pieces snapped into place, reforming the broken seal momentarily.
The runes on the dais flared with pale light. Franklin's pulse raced as he channelled a thread of his magic to re‐weave the glyphs. Pain lanced through his veins: a reminder that each use of immortal power left him more tethered to Solorth's curse.
Behind him, the chamber groaned. A wall collapsed, sending rubble crashing toward Brenda. Franklin sprang up, shoving her aside. Rocks shattered around them.
"Keep the seal intact!" Franklin bellowed, straining to maintain the pattern. His vision blurred as veins of light snaked across the glyphs.
Brenda rolled away from the debris, returning to Franklin's side. The bones in the pillars rattled, and from their hollow mouths poured a swarm of spectral wraiths, echoes of those who had perished in the original binding.
Franklin's voice cracked as he spoke the final syllable of the incantation. The seal glowed blinding white, then imploded in a silent pulse. Waves of force rippled through the chamber, scattering wraiths like leaves in a gale.
A deafening roar shook the earth an angered shout from deep within Solorth's realm. Franklin stumbled, pain blooming along his arms where runes glowed and faded. He collapsed to one knee.
Brenda rushed to support him. "Franklin!"
He forced a breath, wiping sweat and blood from his forehead. It worked… but I can't use more magic. "The link… It's draining me." He panted, each breath a struggle.
Behind them, the chamber's entrance began to seal itself with thick stone doors sliding into place. The catacombs were collapsing in earnest. They had triggered a failsafe.
Brenda grabbed Franklin's arm. "We need to get out now!"
He nodded, mouth dry. They sprinted toward the exit, guided by the pale embers of residual light dancing on the walls. The tunnel shrank, forcing them to stoop. Stones rained from above.
When at last they burst into a half‐collapsed corridor, Franklin paused to survey the wreckage. The path they'd come through was sealed shut, but across a fissure, he spotted another archway carved into the rock.
He tested the rubble with his sword. "Help me clear this." They dug through the debris, working in grim silence as dust choked the air.
A distant echo of a child's sob drifted through the stone. Franklin froze. "Did you hear that?" he whispered.
Brenda's eyes widened. "Children… they're still trapped in the crypt above."
Franklin's heart clenched. He staggered to the broken remains of the first seal chamber. The blood‑tithe victims had not been freed when they passed earlier. The ritual's collapse above hadn't reached every ward.
"Stay here," he said, his voice steeled. He turned, sprinting back through the newly opened arch.
Brenda called after him, fear lacing her tone. "Franklin, you can't."
He didn't answer. Each step was agony, every breath a battle. He burst into the shattered hall of pillars. Lying amid the broken webbing of rune cords were two children, pale and inert, eyes staring blind at the ceiling.
"No…" Brenda whispered, sliding to her knees beside Franklin.
Franklin knelt, pressing his hands against the bound cords around the children. Power flickered at his fingertips, the spark of the immortal essence he had vowed to sacrifice.
He hesitated. The risk was immense: to channel any magic now would strengthen Solorth's bond. But innocence demanded salvation.
Brenda placed a hand on his arm. "Franklin, you must not…"
He met her gaze. "I have to try." With a guttural cry, he poured the last of his will into the cords. Light surged, the bindings snapped, and the children collapsed into Franklin's arms.
Their bodies were cold, but their chests heaved as Brenda knelt beside him, tears streaming. "Franklin…"
He held the children close, one in each arm. "I'm sorry. I warned you…"
Brenda shook her head. "Don't apologise. You saved them."
He stood, carrying them toward the debris‐choked exit. "We must move. The catacombs collapse fast."
They emerged into a cavern where sunlight filtered through cracks above. Stone pillars marked with Solorth's sigils lay shattered. Beyond, a narrow ledge wound up toward a slit of sky and the ruined outer walls of the cathedral.
Brenda guided Franklin and the children along the ledge. Rocks fell around them, dust choking their lungs. At the top, they collapsed into the courtyard, where the moonlight bled across broken battlements.
Soldiers lay scattered, magic‐suicide burns still smouldering on the stones. Banji's banner had fallen. A hush blanketed the ruins.
Franklin set the children down beside Brenda. They cried softly, clinging to her skirts. He glanced skyward where a lone raven circled above the cathedral.
He drew a ragged breath. "We did it. The first seal is broken, and the children are safe. But Solorth's power still claws at the world."
Brenda's hand found his. "What now?"
Franklin's gaze hardened. In the shadows beneath Banji's fallen banner, he saw a figure draped in dark robes, his face hidden in a cowl. The stranger's voice, low and mocking, carried on the wind: "You may have freed one seal, Franklin, but another blood will fall before dawn."
A familiar chill curled through Franklin's veins. He recognised the timbre of Rebecca's laughter.
Brenda squeezed his hand. "Rebecca… she's here."
Franklin sheathed his sword, eyes narrowing on the robed form. "Then our war is only just beginning."
Above them, the cathedral tower groaned, a crack of thunder reborn on earth. As Brenda drew the children to safety, Franklin faced the looming silhouette of his sister, emerging from the shadows. Her vengeance and Solorth's power united in her smile.