Page 19 of Chains of Nightshade

"But that was different. That was just in dreams." My fingers trace the damp wall, seeking something solid to ground me. "This is real. If they catch me-"

"They won't," he cuts in, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "I've taught you well, little one. Your magic may be weak, but your mind is sharp."

Another water drop hits my shoulder, and I shiver. "What if I fail you?"

"Look how far you've come," he says, gentler now. "From a slave who couldn't meet anyone's eyes to someone brave enough to venture into these depths. You won't fail."

The conviction in his voice wraps around me like a warm cloak, steadying my nerves. I straighten my spine, just as he taught me, and take a deep breath.

"Keep moving," he urges. "I'm waiting."

My hands tremble as I stand before the final door, its ancient hinges crusted with rust and age. Aurel's words from our dreams echo in my mind: "Use your mind, not just your body."

The lock is intricate - a dark elf design meant to repel brute force. But Aurel taught me to look closer, to see the patterns within patterns. My fingers trace the metalwork, feeling for the catch he described.

"Three notches to the left," I whisper to myself, remembering his patient instruction. "Then press the center until it clicks."

The mechanism fights me, stiff from disuse. My arms shake with the effort, and sweat beads on my forehead despite the chill. For a moment, panic rises in my throat - what if I can't do this? What if I fail?

"Focus," his voice whispers in my memory. "You're stronger than you know."

I close my eyes, steadying my breathing like he taught me. The lock's inner workings become clear in my mind - not just metal and springs, but a flow of energy waiting to be redirected.

"Magic isn't about power," he'd said. "It's about understanding patterns."

My fingers find the hidden lever, and I hear the satisfying click of tumblers falling into place. The door groans softly as it opens, revealing the darkness beyond.

"I did it," I breathe, barely believing my own success. Now comes the hard part - facing whatever lies beyond this threshold.

The stairs spiral down into suffocating darkness. My fingers trail along the damp stone walls, counting the turns just as Aurel taught me. One, two, three... The air grows thick, almost too heavy to breathe.

"Remember the pattern," I whisper to myself, recalling Aurel's lessons. The wards pulse with an eerie blue light as I approach the sealed door. My hands shake as I trace the intricate magical symbols.

"Counter-clockwise for binding spells," his voice echoes in my memory. "Feel the energy flow through your fingers."

The first ward dissolves under my touch. Sweat beads on my forehead as I move to the second one. The magic fights back, trying to repel my clumsy attempts to unravel it.

A footstep echoes behind me.

My heart stops. A dark elf guard stands at the bottom of the stairs, his silver eyes widening in recognition.

"You—" he starts, reaching for his weapon.

My body moves before my mind can catch up. The spell bursts from my hands without thought or intention – raw, instinctive magic fueled by pure terror. Blue light explodes between us.

The guard crumples mid-step, his sword clattering against the stone floor. I press myself against the wall, trembling as I stare at his unconscious form.

"I... I did it." My voice comes out as a breathless whisper. "I actually did it."

The realization hits me like a physical blow. I've attacked a guard. Used magic. There's no going back now.

The ancient door groans open, and my breath catches in my throat. There, in the darkness, two emerald eyes pierce through the gloom like twin moons. My heart stutters as Aurel's massive form emerges from the shadows, chains rattling against stone as he stretches his serpentine body to its full length.

"You did well," he purrs, his voice deeper and richer than in our dreams. The sound wraps around me like velvet, sending shivers down my spine.

I can't move, can't speak. He's magnificent – terrifying and beautiful all at once. His human torso ripples with strength, skin pale from centuries without sunlight. Dark hair falls past broad shoulders, and those eyes... they hold ages of wisdom and power that make my knees weak.

His serpent body coils and shifts, scales gleaming in the dim light like polished obsidian. The chains binding him look absurd now that I see him in person – like trying to contain a storm with spider silk.

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