Sleeping Beauty #41

As the embers of their fire faded, Erik doused the last flicker of warmth with a careful sweep of his boot, ensuring no trace remained. With practiced efficiency, he and Isran packed their belongings, their movements quiet and deliberate in the stillness of the crypt.

Erik turned to Fallion, who was tightening the straps on his pack, his face calm but resolute.

"It's best you turn back now," Erik said quietly, glancing toward the ominous stone corridors ahead. "The Daughter of Coldharbour isn't far off. Things are about to get… more complicated."

Fallion gave a single nod, the faint flicker of a smile crossing his face. "I understand. I'm well rested, and I've memorized the path back." He paused, glancing between Erik and Isran with a touch of warmth. "If fate permits it, we'll meet again."

Erik inclined his head in agreement, a rare softness in his gaze, while Isran clasped a hand briefly on Fallion's shoulder. Without another word, Fallion turned, slipping into the shadows with steady steps, until he disappeared into the darkness.

As Fallion's footsteps faded, Erik turned to Isran, producing a small vial of thick, black liquid from a pocket inside his cloak. "It's going to get colder as we go on. Here, drink this; it'll help keep you warm."

Isran raised an eyebrow, his face a mixture of skepticism and curiosity, but didn't question it. He took the potion, unscrewing the cap with one swift twist, and swallowed it in a single gulp. Erik smiled as he watched him finish it, then reached into his cloak again to retrieve a second potion—a brilliant crimson vial that glowed faintly in the dim light.

"This one's for disease," Erik said, extending it to Isran. "Keep it close. We won't know what lurks further in, and there are things here that could do more than just scratch the surface."

Isran accepted the vial, eyeing it with a trace of suspicion. "I always carry a cure disease potion. Last thing I need is to catch vampiric filth," he muttered, stashing it with the rest of his gear. He was about to tuck it away when Erik's chuckle drew his gaze.

"Nothing like this one," Erik replied, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "This brew is... special. Trust me. You never know what you might come across down here."

Isran huffed but kept the vial close, securing it in the padded lining of his armor. Then, Erik turned and whistled softly, catching Geri's attention as he sniffed at the shadows in one of the crypt's darker corners. Geri's ears perked up, and he padded over, his tail flicking in anticipation.

"Come on, boy," Erik murmured, scratching the wolf's ear. "Time to move on."

They approached the heavy, iron-bound door ahead, its wood damp with age and streaked with the dark stains of time. Erik pressed his hand to it, feeling the chill seep through the worn wood as he pushed it open. The door creaked, revealing a dark passageway that beckoned them deeper into the crypt's heart.

The heavy door creaked shut behind them as Erik and Isran stepped into the chamber, their footsteps echoing in the dense quiet. Shadows clung to the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of damp stone and ancient dust. They could barely make out the faint shapes of the room around them, though dim rays of light spilled in from the far side, marking a narrow path to a balcony.

They made their way toward it, their eyes gradually adjusting to the gloom. Erik reached the edge first, leaning over the cold stone railing as Isran joined him, and the two men looked out over the vast, unexpected sight below.

Isran's mouth dropped open as he muttered, "What in Stendarr's name…"

Before them lay a massive cavern, its ceiling vanishing into shadow, the distant flickers of ancient braziers barely illuminating the space. Suspended over a dark, glassy lake was a circular platform, grand yet eerie, like something torn from a forgotten age.

Tall arches surrounded it in concentric rings, each one etched with strange symbols that seemed to shift under their gaze. A narrow bridge extended from the balcony to the platform, and beyond it, another bridge led deeper into the crypt.

Erik gestured toward the platform. "I reckon that's where our target is sealed. Let's go."

Isran didn't reply immediately, his gaze roaming over the structure with equal parts awe and caution. He finally exhaled a sigh and nodded, trailing after Erik down the stone steps leading to the bridge. Geri, alert and sniffing at every corner, bounded along, his excitement echoing in the quiet as they crossed the bridge.

The surface of the lake shimmered faintly below, reflecting the ancient stonework in unsettling, distorted fragments. Erik and Isran reached the heart of the platform, surrounded by the towering arches that loomed above them like silent guardians. In the center stood a pedestal, rough-hewn and foreboding, surrounded by a scattering of unlit braziers.

Isran examined the structure with a wary frown. "This looks like a puzzle if I ever saw one."

Erik's lips curved into a small smile, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Ruins and puzzles go hand in hand. It's only fitting, don't you think?" He stepped forward, running his fingers along the symbols carved into the side of the pedestal, his eyes narrowed in thought.

Isran crossed his arms, casting a suspicious glance around the cavern. "All these arches… almost looks like some sort of ritual space." He kicked at the base of an unlit brazier. "Any idea how we're supposed to activate it?"

Erik glanced up at him, a glint in his eye. "These old puzzles are like stories. There's a rhythm to them. You've just got to listen closely." He turned his gaze to the first ring of arches, noting faint depressions at each interval, then nodded to himself. "If I'm not mistaken, these braziers will need to be positioned in a certain order—likely matching the sequence of symbols carved here..."

Isran sighed, eyeing the pedestal dubiously. "You and your 'ancient stories.' Let's hope this doesn't end with half the cavern collapsing on our heads."

Erik smirked at Isran's concern. "Trust me," he said with a faint gleam in his eyes. "It won't." He turned his attention back to the pedestal, his expression calm yet focused. "All we need to do is light the first brazier, and then… we get to work." With a practiced calm, he slipped off his gauntlet and placed his right hand firmly atop the pedestal at the center of the platform.

In an instant, the stone shifted with a sharp clink. A slender, metallic spike shot up from the surface, stabbing through his palm. A small rivulet of blood trickled down the spike and seeped into the pedestal, disappearing as though the ancient stone were drinking it in. Just as quickly, the spike retracted, and a circular stone slab slid into place over the opening, sealing it seamlessly. Erik observed it with mild interest, his expression barely flickering.

Isran's eyes widened in shock as he watched the blood drawn from Erik's hand, his jaw tightening. "Erik, what in Oblivion—!"

But Erik didn't even flinch, letting his healing spell flow around his hand as if he'd been expecting the whole thing. His gaze remained fixed on the pedestal as a faint, eerie purple glow began to pulse outward. It snaked along thin, shallow lines carved into the platform, illuminating a web of intricate patterns that split the stone floor into a mosaic of interlocking segments.

Erik's voice was calm as he addressed Isran's bewildered stare. "I had my suspicions, but seeing those gargoyle carvings on the walls and the distinctive architecture… this place was almost certainly built by vampires."

He gave a wry smile, flexing his mending fingers as the healing magic danced over his wound. "And vampires value only one thing above all else: blood. There's no other substance that could break the kind of seals keeping a vampire locked away for thousands of years."

Isran scoffed, though he couldn't hide the unease flickering in his eyes. "Whatever you say. So long as you're in one piece, we'll keep moving. But what exactly are we supposed to do next?"

Erik gestured to the path of purple light flowing from the pedestal, casting an eerie glow along the etched channels that crisscrossed the platform. The light moved past unlit braziers, tracing a line all the way to the end of the platform where it met with an ancient stone wall, creating an almost paper-thin, translucent barrier of energy.

"I think," Erik began thoughtfully, tracing the lines with his gaze, "we need to move the braziers along the path of the light to where it ends."

Isran glanced skeptically at the nearest brazier. "Move it, huh? These don't exactly look lightweight."

Erik waved a hand at Isran's caution, dismissing it with a light smile. "Maybe so," he mused, "but looks can be deceiving. Besides, these braziers are placed exactly along the paths the light follows. Can't imagine there's any other way to solve this… unless you want to try rearranging an entire vampire crypt." His smirk widened.

He placed a hand on the dormant brazier, feeling the rough iron cool beneath his touch. Then, with a calculated shove, he nudged it forward. To Isran's surprise, the heavy brazier glided along the carved grooves with a smoothness that seemed almost unnatural, coming to rest precisely at the terminus of the purple-lit line.

In response, the brazier's bowl ignited with a deep purple flame, casting an eerie, flickering glow over their surroundings. The ground shuddered, and the sound of stone grinding against stone echoed through the chamber as the light flowed onward, illuminating another section of the platform.

"There you have it," Erik said with a satisfied nod. "Let's keep moving them down the line. Maybe we'll unlock something worthwhile… or at least find out what these vampires thought was important enough to guard so obsessively."

They moved in unison, Erik pushing each brazier carefully into place along the paths that intersected across the stone floor. As each brazier ignited, the purple light extended, connecting the platform in a network of shimmering, ethereal pathways. With each brazier, the tremors grew stronger, reverberating beneath their feet.

Isran glanced around, his unease growing. "I just hope we're not waking up half the dead in this crypt along with whatever's at the end of this line."

"Trust me, they'd make enough noise of their own if they were waking up," Erik replied, his tone light but his eyes sharp as he surveyed their work. "And we're close, I can feel it."

As the final brazier blazed to life, a deep, resonant hum filled the chamber. The purple light coursed along the carved lines in the floor, finally encircling the stone pedestal at the platform's heart. The ground beneath their feet trembled with an intensity that nearly threw them off balance, and then, with a grinding rumble, three concentric stone rings surrounding the pedestal began to descend.

Slowly, they sank into the earth, creating a spiraling staircase that wrapped around the platform, bordered by the tall, ominous arches.

Erik watched with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as the stone slabs covering the pedestal vanished, replaced by swirling currents of violet energy. The air thickened, buzzing with arcane power. The energy coiled like a serpent, twisting upward in a tight spiral before dissipating, leaving behind a massive stone monolith where the pedestal once stood.

Isran's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he studied the structure, his gut churning. "That looks an awful lot like a coffin," he muttered, hand resting on the hilt of his weapon.

Erik's grin widened, eyes alight with anticipation. "And who sleeps in coffins?"

"Only the dead… or vampires," Isran replied with a cold edge in his voice.

Without a word, Erik stepped forward, his curiosity piqued. He extended a hand toward the monolith, his fingers brushing against the smooth, cold surface. As if his touch had triggered some ancient mechanism, the stone cover slid downward with a hiss, disappearing seamlessly into the floor.

The crypt seemed to hold its breath as the figure inside was revealed.

Lying within the monolith was a woman, unlike any they had ever seen. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, as though time itself had drained her of color and warmth, preserving her in an eternal, frozen state. Her face, sharp and elegant, was framed by long, inky black hair that cascaded over her shoulders like the night sky.

Her lips, tinged with the faintest hint of blue, were parted slightly, giving her the appearance of someone caught between life and death. The clothing she wore, though ancient, remained remarkably well-preserved—embroidered with the intricate insignia of a noble house long forgotten by history.

Despite the crypt's decay and the weight of time pressing down on everything around her, the woman seemed perfectly in place. She lay as though waiting for this moment, for this exact awakening. Her beauty was both haunting and dangerous, like a deadly predator frozen in a moment of fragile stillness.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open.

The crimson glow within them was fierce, burning with an insatiable hunger. Her gaze swept over them, cold yet lethargic. There was no warmth in her stare, only the keen awareness of someone who had been left behind by the passage of time, untouched by the world's changes.

She groaned, her body shifting as she tried to step forward. Her movements were slow, languid, as though waking from a deep slumber had drained her.

She fell to her knees, her hands trembling as they touched the floor. After a long, ragged breath, she steadied herself, pushing off the ground with a delicate grace. She rose to her full height, regal and commanding, despite the clear exhaustion that weighed on her.

Her voice, when it came, was like a whisper from the past, soft but tinged with an ancient authority. "Unh… where is…?" She trailed off, her crimson eyes locking onto Erik and Isran, suspicion and confusion flashing in their depths.

"Who sent you here?" she demanded, her tone sharpening, though her body remained fragile from the long years of rest.