Chapter 185
The crypt's air was thick—stifling with age, magic, and decay. Dust clung to my skin like cobwebs as I knelt over the forged emblem, its metallic gleam catching the faint torchlight. It looked real. It felt real. But I knew better.
“This changes everything,” Anna said beside me, her voice a hushed breath.
“It’s a decoy,” Tomas added. “Somebody wanted us looking the wrong way.”
The fake emblem was almost too perfect. Almost. The enchantments we’d expected from the original were dulled, corrupted. Whoever crafted this hadn’t just been trying to copy—they’d been trying to manipulate us.
From the edge of the chamber, I felt Jeremiah’s presence. He said nothing, but his eyes burned into the back of my skull like fire through parchment. I refused to look at him. Not after everything.
“We take this to the council,” I said, my voice steady despite the knot in my gut. “But not loudly. We can’t be sure who’s watching.”
Alex nodded. “Understood.”
I snapped the box shut. If this forgery was a distraction, then the real emblem was still in play. And someone was using it.
\---
The great hall was cold with suspicion. Council members whispered in small, tight circles as I placed the forged emblem on the stone table at the center of the chamber.
“A forgery?” Elder Marlow repeated, leaning in. His tone danced between disbelief and concern.
I nodded. “A very convincing one, but it doesn’t carry the lunar imprint of the original. Someone created this to keep us chasing shadows.”
Elder Soren folded his arms. “Then where is the real one?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” I replied.
Tension buzzed in the air like charged static. No one trusted anyone right now. And the more we uncovered, the more I realized they were right not to.
Later that night, I escaped to the estate’s library. The silence was comforting—the smell of old parchment and candle wax familiar. I searched through tomes, old council records, and spell books, trying to decipher any information about the emblem’s origins or where it could have been taken.
According to ancient texts, the emblem wasn’t just symbolic. It was a key. A powerful conduit capable of unlocking hidden magic from a time before even the first packs were formed.
If it had fallen into the wrong hands, it could shift the balance of everything.
A knock on the door broke my focus.
“Come in,” I called without looking.
The door creaked. I didn’t need to see him to know who it was.
Jeremiah stepped in, his presence dragging in the same storm he always did. “Can you please stop this...avoiding me I wanna help you Astrid I know you are onto something and you might be really close.”
I closed the book in front of me, keeping my tone flat. “You need to stop following me around . I dont need you i have got this.”
He didn’t flinch. “Astrid just listen stop being stubborn. I was—”
“Don’t,” I cut in. “You made your decision. I made mine. Now unless you have something useful to say about the emblem, leave.”
He stayed quiet for a moment, then moved deeper into the room. “I don’t want to get back into… whatever we were. But I know something bigger is coming. I can feel it, and so can you.”
I kept my arms crossed. “Then help. But don’t follow me around like a shadow trying to patch what can’t be fixed.”
He didn’t argue. “Fine. But I’m not stepping away. Whether you want me here or not, I’m seeing this through.”
Typical Jeremiah. Always half in, half out. Still, some small part of me—however resentful—knew his instincts were sharp. Maybe sharper than mine.
“Then stay out of my way,” I muttered.
\---
The next clue came from a forgotten ledger deep in the restricted section. Buried between faded pages was a reference to a subterranean vault beneath the estate—predating even the first High Council—where relics of untold power were sealed.
Tomas, Anna, Alex, and I descended into the hidden chamber days later. Jeremiah was, unsurprisingly, a step behind.
The stone air was heavy with dormant spells. We moved carefully, past carved symbols that thrummed under our boots.
At the center of the room stood a pedestal—plain, weathered. A perfect indentation lay at its heart, the exact shape of the emblem.
“Teleportation residue,” Tomas said, kneeling beside it. He pulled out a small detection crystal, which lit up with a sickly green hue. “Someone removed the original using high-level spellwork.”
Anna’s brow furrowed. “Only a few in the council could’ve done this.”
I turned to Jeremiah. “Thoughts?”
He was already scanning the ceiling, the floor, the residual magic. “This pattern… I’ve seen similar ones used by blood mages. Eastern circles, rogue sects. They use these types of symbols to move objects across long distances in secret.”
“That’s outlawed magic,” Alex said sharply.
“That doesn’t mean it’s extinct,” Jeremiah replied.
My stomach turned. If blood magic was in play, we weren’t dealing with a lone traitor. We were facing a network. A coordinated effort.
\---
Back upstairs, we cross-referenced the teleportation pattern against the estate’s magical logs. Tomas pinpointed several unauthorized surges in the past month, all leading to a single point: Elder Soren’s quarters.
Hidden behind layers of illusion wards, we found a compartment. Inside—pages upon pages of ritual blueprints, magical transcriptions, and diagrams of the real emblem. It was detailed. Precise. Obsessive.
“Lunar convergence,” I muttered, reading a translated fragment. “He was planning to harness the emblem’s power. On a scale that could affect the entire region.”
Anna shook her head. “Why? To what end?”
We didn’t have to wait long for answers.
\---
When we confronted Soren in front of the council, he didn’t deny it.
“I did what had to be done,” he said coldly. “You call it betrayal. I call it preservation. The bloodlines are fading. Our enemies grow bolder. I sought a way to bring balance.”
“At what cost?” I demanded.
“The emblem doesn’t belong in the hands of people afraid to use it.”
He was stripped of his title and magic, exiled beyond the northern wards. But I didn’t feel relief. I felt dread.
If Soren had help, there was more coming. And we weren’t ready.
In the days that followed, Jeremiah was everywhere I turned.
He didn’t speak unless asked. He didn’t push. He didn’t pry.
But he stayed.
One night, I found him waiting outside the training room, arms folded.
“I told you I don’t need your help,” I said, brushing sweat from my brow.
“I know. But you’re going to get yourself killed if you keep working like this without backup.”
“I’ve handled worse.”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to anymore.”
“I don’t want your pity.”
“It’s not pity,” he said firmly. “It’s preparation. Something’s coming. We both know it.”
I stared at him for a long moment, then walked past.
He didn’t follow—but I knew he would be close.
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