Page 32 of Darkbirch Academy

Before I can reply, he’s moving, pressing his back against the wall and sidling along the narrow ledge with surprising grace for a man his size. I note the way he navigates the tight space, adjusting his weight distribution with each step, and reluctantly file it away as another piece of evidence that “Professor Dayn” is far more than the academic persona he presents.

When he reaches the other side, he turns to watch my crossing. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me struggle, so I move with deliberate precision, calling on years of Darkbirch training. My foot slips once on a particularly damp section, but I recover instantly, my body responding before conscious thought can interfere.

“I suppose you’re here to admire the dark as well as the danger?” I quip as I reach the safe side, noticing his steady gaze.

His lips quirk into something almost like a smile. “I admire efficiency, though I doubt you’d surrender your penchant for theatrics.”

Our eyes meet briefly in the dim light, a moment of mutual challenge that feels oddly like recognition. I break contact first, turning to face the continuation of the passage. The tunnel splits here, branching into three narrower corridors that all curve away into darkness.

“The map didn’t show this junction,” I observe, pulling it from my pocket to confirm.

“As I said—incomplete.” Dayn studies the three options with narrowed eyes. “We need the path that follows the original foundation line.” He lays his palm flat against the central passage’s entrance, closing his eyes briefly. “This one. I believe the stones here are part of the original structure.”

We continue deeper, the passage gradually sloping downward. The enchanted sconces grow fewer, the darkness between them stretching longer, until we’re walking through pools of weak light separated by intervals of complete blackness. During one such dark stretch, my foot catches on something—a loose stone, perhaps—and I stumble forward.

Dayn’s hand shoots out, catching my arm before I can fall. His grip is firm, his palm radiating that unnatural heat that seems to be his constant state. I pull away as soon as I’m steady, resenting both the assistance and my momentary vulnerability.

“Thanks,” I mutter, before I realize what I’m saying.

He doesn’t acknowledge it, already moving forward again. “There should be a chamber ahead. According to the oldest records, it served as a ritual space before Heathborne was even constructed.”

“The perfect place to hide an artifact of primordial magic.” I follow, keeping a more careful eye on my footing.

The passage widens suddenly, opening into a circular chamber perhaps twenty feet in diameter. Unlike the crude tunnels, this space shows signs of deliberate craftsmanship—smooth walls inlaid with complex patterns of metal and stone, a vaulted ceiling from which hang dormant crystal fixtures, and a floor laid out in concentric circles of alternating materials.

“Well, this certainly looks like somewhere important,” I remark, taking in the ancient grandeur.

Dayn moves to the center of the room, his expression more animated than I’ve ever seen it. “This is a convergence chamber. One of the oldest in existence.” He turns slowly, examining the walls with the intensity of a scholar discovering a long-lost text. “The patterns here predate the blood divide. They’re pure binding magic, the original form.”

I remain near the entrance, scanning for threats rather than academic curiosities. “Fascinating history lesson, but we’re here for the relic, not a tour of magical archaeology.”

He shoots me a look of genuine irritation. “Understanding this chamber is essential to finding the relic. These patterns aren’t decorative—they’re functional. They create and maintain the dimensional fold where the Relic of Severance is hidden.”

Before I can respond, a low rumble shakes the chamber. Dust drifts down from the ceiling, and the metal inlays in the walls begin to glow with a pale blue light.

“What did you do?” I demand, hand going to my knife.

“Nothing.” Dayn moves away from the center, eyestracking the spreading glow. “The chamber is reacting to our presence. It’s defensive.”

The rumbling intensifies, and sections of the floor begin to shift, stones rising and falling in a complex pattern. The air fills with a high-pitched whine that sets my teeth on edge, and I feel the distinct signature of powerful magic building around us.

“We need to leave,” I say, already backing toward the entrance. “Now.”

Dayn doesn’t move, his eyes fixed on the changing patterns in the floor. “No. This is part of the access sequence. The chamber is testing us.”

“Testing or trying to kill us?” The entrance behind me suddenly seals itself, stone flowing like liquid to close the passage. “Dayn!”

He ignores my alarm, kneeling to examine one of the rising stone sections. “These are keystone triggers. They respond to specific magical signatures.” He looks up at me, his expression unreadable. “We need to activate them in the correct sequence to access the dimensional fold.”

“And if we get it wrong?”

The subtle shift in his posture tells me everything I need to know.

“Wonderful.” I scan the room, identifying the pattern of moving stones. They rise and fall in sequence, creating a complex dance of potential triggers. “Any idea what the correct sequence might be?”

“It would follow binding rune principles. Balance, containment, connection, release.” He points to different sections of the floor. “We need to activate these four stones in that order, within the same cycle.”

The cycle seems to repeat approximately every thirty seconds, giving us a narrow window to hit all four triggers. I watch one complete sequence, memorizing the timing.

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