Page 96 of The Onyx Covenant

Small thorns protrude from the metallic branches, positioned in a way that makes simply reaching in impossible without being pierced from multiple angles.

“Well, that’s just fucking perfect,” Kieran mutters, eyeing the apparatus. “Why can’t anything ever be simple?”

ChapterEighteen

LYRA

The Moonstone gleams in its prison of thorns and metallic branches, suspended in the center of the chamber like a captured fragment of night sky.

I step forward, drawn to it. The intricate cage of interwoven branches looks both beautiful and deadly. Dozens of thorns jut from the metallic arms, promising to draw blood from anyone foolish enough to reach directly for the treasure they protect.

“Gods above,” I breathe, circling the structure slowly. The air feels charged, heavy with the weight of centuries.

Theron moves silently beside me, his presence solid and reassuring despite everything between us. He studies the pedestal.

“What do you make of these?” he asks, gesturing toward the markings etched into the stone base.

I kneel before the pedestal. The stone feels cool against my knees. I study the markings. “They’re celestial runes,” I say. “Similar to what we use in the Elios Temple.”

Kieran whistles low, crouching on the other side of the Throne. His reddish hair falls across his face as he examines the intricate cage.

“Lucky for us, we’ve got someone who can actually read this cryptic nonsense,” he says with a grin. “I’d be trying to poke everything in sight by now.”

“And you’d be full of thorns like a pincushion,” Theron replies. He turns to me, his expression growing serious again. “Can you translate them?”

I trace my fingers just above the surface of the runes. They form two overlapping circles around the base of the pedestal, with intricate lines connecting various points.

“Give me a moment,” I murmur, focusing intently. “They’re dialect variants... older than what I’m used to seeing.”

“Take your time,” Theron says, leaning in closer to me. “We’ve come too far to rush now.”

His closeness sends welcome warmth spreading through me.

“Hey,” Kieran says suddenly, moving to the wall of the chamber to our left. “Anyone else hear that?”

We fall silent, listening. Faint voices echo from somewhere beyond the wall, muffled but drawing closer.

“Someone’s coming,” Theron confirms, straightening to his full height. The transformation is immediate—the relaxed posture vanishes, replaced by the coiled readiness of a predator.

“I count two distinct voices,” he continues, head tilted slightly. “Moving parallel to us.”

Kieran presses his ear against the wall. “Definitely getting closer.”

The voices suddenly become clearer, as if they’ve turned down a corridor that brings them alongside our chamber.

“…should be around here somewhere,” a female voice says, frustration evident. “The clues pointed in this direction.”

“We’ll find it before they do,” a deeper voice replies with smug confidence.

I exchange glances with Theron. “Selene and Erebus,” I mouth silently.

He nods, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

That bitch who attacked me in the sleeping quarters, trying to kill me.

“Oh, perfect,” Kieran mutters.

Theron gestures for us to return to the pedestal. “They don’t know we’re here yet,” he whispers. “Let’s keep our advantage.”

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