The crowd gathered in the grand hall of Lorthraine’s palace, their expectant murmurs rising like the fluttering of restless wings. Flickering torchlight danced across the marbled walls, casting long shadows that twisted and writhed with every cheer and hushed prayer. The air buzzed with anticipation, thick with the scent of incense and the sharp tang of candle wax.

  Ellie shifted uneasily, standing to the side of the assembly, hidden partly by one of the vast columns that framed the healing platform. Her gaze lingered on Eloise, serene as ever in her white robes, which caught the golden light like a halo.

  The noble families and commoners alike leaned forward, eyes wide, enraptured by Eloise's every movement. She laid her hands upon a pale child, and the glow of her touch spread through the boy’s small frame, his skin flushing with life as if sunlight poured through fog.

  Ellie’s chest tightened. It was always like this—too perfect, too beautiful, the kind of spectacle that nearly hurt to witness. Seren’s warning echoed in her mind, urgent and laced with suspicion: “If there’s something darker behind those miracles, we need to know.”

  She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on Eloise’s face. The woman’s expression was tranquil, her smile beatific, almost otherworldly. But now, Ellie saw it differently—like a mask that clung too tightly, concealing whatever lay beneath.

  The boy’s breaths deepened, color returning to his cheeks, and the crowd gasped in awe. Ellie felt the pull, the almost magnetic warmth of the light. For a moment, she found herself slipping into their rapture.

  But then—a flicker. A shadow, barely more than a shiver in the air beneath the platform, caught her eye. She blinked, frowning, trying to track the movement. The floor beneath the platform was ancient, made of the same worn marble as the rest of the palace, but Ellie noticed a faint seam running along one side—a break in the otherwise smooth surface.

  Her heartbeat quickened. She took a step closer, trying to remain inconspicuous as she studied the ground. The seam was almost imperceptible, a hairline crack just wide enough for a fingertip. Ellie knelt, letting the crowd's murmurs and gasps wash over her as she reached down.

  The stone felt cool beneath her palm, and she hesitated, glancing up at the assembly, at Eloise, who remained absorbed in her performance.

  “This is reckless. But I have to know. I can’t turn back now.” With a quick breath, she pressed against the seam, expecting nothing more than solid stone.

  Instead, the floor gave a faint click, and a section of the marble shifted, revealing a dark, narrow passage below. Her breath caught. She glanced around, but no one noticed—every gaze remained fixed on Eloise’s glowing figure.

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  “Here goes nothing.” Ellie slipped through the opening and into the cool darkness that waited below.

  *****

  The air in the hidden chamber was thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic—coppery, like blood. Ellie hesitated, running her hands along the rough-hewn walls as she moved forward, her fingers brushing against something smooth and cold.

  She fumbled for her flint and struck a light, the small spark illuminating her surroundings in brief flashes.

  A chamber far older than the palace above emerged from the shadows, its walls lined with carvings that twisted into strange, looping shapes. In the center of the room lay an altar, and around it, intricate patterns were etched into the stone floor, filled with a dull red paste that glistened in the lamplight.

  Ellie’s pulse hammered in her ears as she approached the altar, holding the light aloft. Her hands trembled as she took in the items laid out there: vials filled with dark liquid, bones arranged in precise, unsettling patterns, a small brass bowl lined with a blackened residue.

  At the heart of it all lay a silver pendant, shaped like an eye, its center filled with an opalescent stone that seemed to pulse with an inner light.

  “What is this?” Ellie’s voice wavered, the words barely steady as she tried to make sense of what lay before her. “This… this isn’t just healing.”

  Her mind raced, her eyes darting to the runes carved into the floor. She recognized the symbols for binding, for transfer, for siphoning. A chill crept up her spine. These were not ancient relics—they were tools for drawing power, for manipulation.

  She stepped closer, tracing the edge of the pattern with her fingertips, and felt a faint hum beneath her touch—like the reverberation of a far-off bell. She froze, straining to listen, realizing with a jolt that the hum matched the rhythm of the chanting above, Eloise’s voice echoing faintly through the stone.

  “She’s drawing from them,” Ellie whispered, her voice hollow with realization. “She’s taking their strength, their magic, and giving back just enough to make it look like a miracle.”

  She pulled back sharply, her foot catching on the edge of the altar. The pendant shifted, falling from its place with a dull clink, and for a moment, the hum swelled into a low, thrumming sound that seemed to rattle her bones. Ellie froze, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the walls seemed to press in on her, the carved eyes glaring from every angle.

  “Damn it, Ellie, keep it together,” she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice trembling with fear. “You’re in too deep now. Just put it back—no one has to know you were here.”

  With shaking hands, she fumbled to replace the pendant, her fingers slick with sweat. The hum receded, leaving only the distant drip of water somewhere in the darkness. Ellie exhaled, a ragged sound that tore through the silence. Her mind reeled with the enormity of what she’d uncovered.

  ‘She’s using their pain,’ she realized, a wave of nausea rolling through her. ‘All those people, suffering, while she feeds off them.’

  The light flickered, casting twisted shadows across the walls, and she caught sight of her own reflection in the pendant’s polished surface—wide-eyed, disheveled, looking more like a specter than a living person.

  She backed away, her heart racing, nearly stumbling as she turned to find her way back to the surface. But the image of those runes, of the sickly glow that lingered in the shadows, stayed burned into her mind.