"I don't like it. But if that's what you need, I'll wrap things up here and leave as soon as I can."
Malachi clasps his shoulder once, then turns to me. "Are you ready?"
I think of the blood oath I swore. The tunnels I've never taken an outsider through. The secrets I'm about to betray. I give a sharp nod. "Ready as I'll ever be."
Seven red doors are scattered across Lunaris, tucked between shops and homes, unremarkable except for the faded Veritas signet carved into the stone above each one. Most residents walk past them without a second glance. A few notice. Fewer still wonder what lies behind them.
I've heard the speculation. A hidden burial ground. A repository of Veritas secrets. A passage to the underworld itself.
All of it is partially true, but none of it captures the whole. And since those of us with access have sworn blood oaths to keep silent, the full truth will likely never surface.
My steps slow as we approach. The red door looms before us, ancient wood weathered by salt air and time. I stop in front of the small bronze dish mounted beside it and stare at it for a long moment. Freida told me once that these dishes predated the streetlamps.
In the old days, they were lit to illuminate the keyholes for travelers arriving after dark. A kindness, disguised as function. But the dishes beside the red doors serve a different purpose. They're not illumination. They're keys.
"What is it?" Malachi's voice is low beside me.
I look up at him. "When I was granted access to these doors, I swore a blood oath. Never bring outsiders into the tunnels.Never speak of what lies within." I swallow. "I'm about to break both."
He's quiet for a moment. "What happens if you break it?"
"I don't know." I laugh, but the sound comes out thin. "I suppose we're about to find out."
His expression darkens. "That's not funny, Ada."
"I know." I meet his eyes. "But the alternative is staying in the dark, and I'm done with that."
I exhale and turn back to the dish. Beneath it, a small compartment holds shards of something dark, flint or obsidian, ancient and sharp. I catch them as they fall, arrange them in the dish, and summon fire to my palm.
The flame catches. Holds. The lock groans, a sound like old bones shifting. "I need you to?—"
Before I can finish, Malachi surges forward, bracing the door before it can seal us out. I extinguish the fire against my palm and scrape the shards back into their compartment, then follow him through. The darkness swallows us whole. The tunnels open before us, vast and cathedral-like.
Ribbed vaults arc overhead, supported by pointed arches that march into the darkness like sentinels. The air is cold and still, carrying the faint mineral scent of ancient stone. Old texts claim the founding family wanted their burial chambers to mirror the city they built above, a kingdom beneath a kingdom.
They succeeded. But how they expanded from a few crypts beneath the university to this labyrinthine network that stretches beneath all of Lunaris remains a mystery. Some scholars believe the tunnels were built to transport wine from the docks without taxation. Others say the founders used them to move valuables past bandits on the northern roads. A few darker accounts suggest the tunnels served a different purpose entirely: hiding things that should never see daylight.
"My brother used to say these tunnels stretch all the way to Vindariel," I murmur as we walk, our footsteps silent on the ancient stone. "That somewhere beneath the Shroud, there's a passage to the outside world."
"Do you believe that?"
I glance at him. "If I did, I wouldn't still be here."
"You would leave?"
The question catches me off guard. "Why does that surprise you?"
"No. I suppose it doesn't." He tips his head back, studying the vaulted ceiling. "There's no echo."
"The Order's doing. Some enchantment woven into the stone." I shrug. "I've had it explained to me a dozen times. I still don't understand it."
"How do you navigate without a map?"
"Practice." I trail my fingers along the wall as we walk, feeling the grooves worn smooth by centuries of hands doing the same. "The first 'important task' the Sages gave me was ferrying texts from the House of Truth to the vault. I was young enough to think it was an honor."
"How old were you?"
"I'm not sure. We lose track of age in Lunaris. The residents who arrive already have their gifts, and those of us who came as children..." I shrug. "We mark time by festivals, not years."
