Page 95 of The Onyx Covenant

“The vision gave me a message,” I say, remembering. “Five rights.That’s what it said is our path.”

Theron’s brow furrows in thought. “Could be as simple as us taking five right turns on our journey.” He gestures to where the maze has created a new passage before us. “Let’s try it.”

We set off, following the cleared path. At the first junction, we take a right, then another, and another. The maze seems to be cooperating, offering us exactly the turns we need. After the fourth right turn, a sense of anticipation builds in my chest.

“One more,” I murmur as we approach another fork.

We take the fifth right turn—and find nothing. Just another winding passage that seems to lead deeper into the maze.

“What the fuck?” Kieran mutters, looking around in confusion. “There’s nothing here.”

We continue forward, hoping for some sign, some indication that we’re on the right path, but the passage only narrows, eventually leading to a dead end—a solid wall of thorns that blocks our way completely.

“That’s it?” Kieran kicks at the ground in frustration. “Your god gave us directions to a fucking wall?”

Theron approaches the wall, examining it closely. “Maybe there’s something we’re missing.” He turns to me. “What else did the vision say? Anything that might help us?”

I close my eyes, trying to recall every word, every image. “Something about blood. I think it needs blood.”

Before either of them can stop me, I step forward and press my palm against the thorny wall. Sharp points pierce my skin, and I wince but don’t pull away. Blood wells from the small wounds, bright red against my pale skin, and drips onto the plants.

“Lyra!” Theron rushes to my back but doesn’t move me.

My blood seeps into the thorns, disappearing as if absorbed by the very material of the wall. For a moment, nothing happens. Then a pulse of silver light, similar to the one in my vision, spreads from where my hand touches the thorns, racing along the wall in all directions.

The deadly thorns begin to soften, to change. Green shoots emerge, unfurling into leaves, then buds, and then flowers of impossible beauty—blossoms that glow with faint silver light, that seem to sing without sound as they open to the morning sun. The transformation is breathtaking.

The wall isn’t disappearing—it’s transforming, becoming something alive, vibrant, and welcoming instead of a barrier.

“Holy shit,” Kieran breathes, his usual sarcasm abandoned in the face of the marvel before us.

I feel a strange draining sensation, as if the wall is pulling more than just the blood from my cuts. My vision begins to blur at the edges, my knees weakening.

“It’s taking too much,” I gasp, suddenly unable to pull away from the wall, my head spinning. The flowers continue to spread, more and more of them erupting along the thorny surface, but my strength is fading with each new bloom.

“Lyra!” Theron’s voice seems to come from far away. Strong hands grasp my shoulders, pulling me back, breaking my connection to the transformed wall.

I stumble into his arms, the world spinning around me. “I’m okay,” I mumble, though I’m not sure that’s true. My head feels light, my limbs heavy.

“You’re not okay,” Theron growls, his arms tightening around me. “What the fuck was that?”

Before I can answer, a sound like stone grinding against stone fills the air. We turn to see the flowered wall sliding aside, revealing a hidden passage beyond.

Kieran peers into the darkness. “Looks like your blood sacrifice worked.”

With Theron’s help, I stand straighter, fighting off the lingering weakness.

“Let’s go,” I suggest, determination returning. “We’ve come too far to stop now.”

We step through the opening into a small chamber hewn from ancient stone. The walls are covered in carvings—the old language, symbols that even I, trained in the temple, barely recognize.

And there, in the center of the chamber, bathed in a shaft of sunlight, rests an object that makes my breath catch.

The Onyx Moonstone.

Not the key we found earlier, but what the key was meant to unlock. A perfect sphere of translucent crystal that seems to contain the essence of moonlight within it, swirling, alive, and calling to something deep within me.

It rests in an elaborate cradle of interwoven silver and obsidian branches. The branches form a complex cage around the stone, with narrow gaps between them just barely wide enough to glimpse the treasure within. The entire structure sits atop a circular pedestal carved with ancient symbols.

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