Villain's Last Chance

The hidden passage swallowed us whole.

Stone walls loomed on either side, slick with damp, the air thick with the scent of old magic and decay. The deeper we descended, the colder it became, as if we were stepping into a forgotten part of the world where the sun had never reached.

The sound of our footsteps echoed, sharp against the silence. My pulse beat steadily beneath my skin, but the weight of the Blood Oath still lingered, a strange warmth threading through my veins, tethering me to Cairon in ways I wasn't sure I fully understood yet.

But I did not regret it.

Not when I was this close to the answers I needed.

Cairon moved ahead, his long coat swaying slightly with each step, his presence a shadow stretching long against the flickering lantern light. Behind me, Marek followed, his silence heavy with disapproval.

I didn't look back.

Instead, my eyes were locked on the massive vault door that emerged from the darkness.

It stood tall, a towering slab of obsidian, its surface veined with silver sigils that pulsed faintly, like living veins filled with light. The door was old—ancient, even—but the power woven into it had not faded. If anything, it felt as sharp and dangerous as a blade pressed against my throat.

Cairon approached it without hesitation.

Placing his palm against the obsidian, he murmured something under his breath—words I couldn't quite catch. The silver veins flickered, reacting to his touch. A low, resonating hum filled the air, vibrating through my ribs.

Then, with a sharp crack, the vault door shuddered open.

A gust of cold air swept past us.

And inside, the darkness stirred.

The vault stretched deep, its vastness broken only by the dim glow of runes carved into the stone walls. Shelves upon shelves of relics lined the chamber—glass vials filled with dark liquids, blades still stained with the blood of forgotten wars, scrolls bound in what looked unsettlingly like human skin.

But it was the pedestal at the center of the room that held my attention.

A single object rested atop it, draped in deep crimson silk.

A book.

Not just any book.

The Revenant Codex.

I barely breathed.

This was it. The key to unraveling everything.

I stepped forward, drawn to it as if the magic within it had already reached for me first.

Behind me, Cairon spoke.

"Careful, Elara."

I stopped, my fingers inches from the book. "This is why I took the Oath, isn't it?"

His gaze was unreadable. "You think the vault's secrets come without a cost?"

I met his stare head-on. "You wouldn't have brought me here if you didn't think I could pay it."

A flicker of something—approval, perhaps—crossed his expression.

Then, slowly, he stepped aside.

The book called to me, whispering promises in a language I did not know but somehow understood.

I reached out.

The moment my fingers brushed the cover, the vault roared to life.

A sudden gust of wind howled through the chamber, ripping through the shelves and scattering scrolls like dying leaves. The silver runes along the walls burned, pulsing in rapid succession, like a heartbeat thrumming faster and faster.

Then—they came.

Shadows.

They slipped from the walls, twisting into long, writhing figures, their limbs too sharp, their eyes too hollow. They moved without sound, gliding toward us like ink spilling across water.

I barely had time to react before the first one struck.

A clawed hand lashed out. I jerked back, barely dodging the blow as its talons raked through empty air where my chest had been a moment ago. My blade was in my hand before I'd even registered drawing it.

Beside me, Cairon was already moving.

His sword sliced clean through one of the creatures, severing it in half. But instead of falling, it merely reformed, its body knitting itself back together like a wound that refused to bleed.

"They don't die," Marek bit out, slashing his own blade through another.

"Not in the way you're thinking," Cairon said grimly.

I turned, dodging another attack. "Then how?"

He didn't answer.

Because the shadows were changing.

No longer just figures—they were faces.

And I knew them.

My breath caught as one of them slithered closer. Its form flickered, reshaping itself, and suddenly I was staring into the hollowed-out eyes of my mother.

Dead. Long dead. But here.

Her lips parted. No sound came. Just a whispering sigh, like wind through dead leaves.

I staggered back, ice curling through my veins.

Behind me, Marek cursed. "They're taking memories."

That was their power.

They weren't just shadow creatures.

They were the dead.

Or rather, the pieces of them that still haunted our minds.

Another form lunged at Cairon—this one smaller, frailer. A child. His sword wavered, just slightly. I saw the moment of hesitation flicker in his eyes.

The moment of recognition.

Then he snarled and cut it down.

I forced myself to move. I couldn't let them sink their claws into my mind. Whatever they were, they weren't real.

I gripped my blade tighter and focused.

Not on the memories. Not on the ghosts.

But on the book.

The Revenant Codex was still there, untouched amidst the chaos.

The key to everything.

I turned, lunging toward it.

The shadows howled in response, converging at once.

Too late.

My fingers closed around the book.

The moment I did, a pulse of raw power exploded outward.

The shadows recoiled, shrieking, their forms unraveling like ink washed away by rain. The runes along the walls flared brighter—then shattered, the light splintering like glass.

Then, silence.

The vault returned to stillness.

I exhaled shakily, fingers still gripping the book. My body trembled from the force of whatever magic had just surged through me, but I was still standing.

Cairon stared at me, his expression unreadable.

Marek was the first to speak. "Tell me that was worth it."

I swallowed hard, glancing down at the book in my hands.

The cover was smooth beneath my fingertips, but the power within it was unmistakable. It knew me. It had chosen me.

I met Cairon's gaze.

"Oh, it was worth it."

Because I had the Codex now.

And I was going to tear the Revenants apart with it