Chapter 166

They told me the crypt wouldn’t feel like a tomb, but it did. Even with the generator-powered lights and the steady shuffle of archivists cataloguing ancient stones, there was something suffocating in the air. The walls sweated history, and the dust tasted like old blood.

Nathan kept his hand near his weapon as we followed the outer corridor toward the sealed chamber. I didn’t blame him. This wasn’t the kind of place you trusted just because it hadn’t collapsed yet.

"Back corner vault," he said quietly. "We found the original charter."

My heart kicked up. Simon and two historians were already stationed around a reinforced table under plastic sheeting, carefully turning over a cracked sheet of parchment. The Concord charter. Ink faded, seals crumbling, but still legible.

One of the historians looked up. "This is authentic. Serena signed it. And here, there’s a second mark. A notation about a secondary signet kept in trust for a hidden heir."

I leaned closer. The Mooncut emblem was unmistakable, a match to the one embedded in the pendant I kept tucked under my shirt.

"We need a digital backup and secure replication," I said. "Then we seal this under protective glass and restrict further exposure."

Simon tapped something into his tablet and nodded. "Already pinging the Council archive network."

We started to move toward the adjacent alcove when I felt it, a shift in air pressure. The temperature jumped slightly. Not enough to burn, but enough to warn. It hit the back of my throat before it reached my skin.

I turned, eyes narrowing toward the corridor we had just passed. "Shut the fans. Something’s wrong."

Nathan caught the change too. The next second, fire exploded down the hallway, consuming the air with a deafening roar. A column of heat rushed forward, licking up the walls and splintering the wood scaffolding in seconds.

"It’s arson," Simon shouted. "They breached the wall intentionally."

"Evacuate now," I ordered. "Stairwell C is clear, we came through it. Seal the relic vault and do not let that charter burn."

Interns and aides scrambled. I grabbed two by the arms and shoved them toward the exit. Smoke began to pour in, thick and wet, coating everything in haze.

My eyes stung. The hem of my coat curled under the rising heat. I slipped on loose stone as I rounded a corner and caught myself against the wall. My palm scraped open.

Then I heard the cough.

One of the older Elders, pinned near a fallen stone beam, was trying to lift himself. Blood stained his side. I slid beside him and wrapped an arm around his back.

"We’re getting you out."

"No," he rasped. "No time. You have to listen."

His fingers clutched my sleeve. His eyes were locked on mine, and something in them shifted. Recognition, not of me personally, but of what I represented.

"Serena wasn’t alone. She made us promise. If she didn’t survive the vote, the heir would find us. A girl born of two kinds."

My throat tightened. The flames were growing louder and closer.

"She said the bridge would survive. That when the time came, she would be drawn back here. And we were to help her stand."

I swallowed hard.

"Was it you who kept the scrolls hidden?"

"No. A vampire record-keeper. She crossed borders to do it. Said the kingdom wouldn’t be ready for truth until the fire came."

He smiled. And then he stopped breathing.

I pressed his eyes closed and said nothing. My hands trembled as I stood and turned back toward the smoke.

By the time I got outside, emergency responders were already flooding the area. Two betas dragged fire suppression gear past me. My hair clung to my neck with sweat. My coat smelled like scorched leather and dust. Richard stood by the entrance, covered in ash, shouting into a comm.

He spotted me instantly.

"You okay?"

I nodded, swallowing the acid at the back of my throat. "The original charter is secure. One fatality, Elder Quinn. Everyone else made it out."

He looked me over like he didn’t believe me until his hand settled on my waist. "Good."

"The fire was set. Someone wanted the charter lost."

He nodded. "I figured. You made the right call. Stairwell C was the only viable exit."

"I didn’t even think about it, I just acted."

He shook his head slightly. "That is what leadership is."

Later, after they cleared the rubble, Simon called me into a back tent. He had a crate of scroll fragments laid out across a decontamination mat.

"These were recovered from the second vault," he said. "Vampire script. Non-liturgical."

"That means not religious."

"No blood chants. These are political documents. Trade pacts. Jurisdictional boundaries. Records of shared governance. Amelia, these predate the schism."

I stared at the fragments. My hands were still shaking.

"Are you sure?"

"I ran the aging sequence twice. They’re real."

My jaw locked. "This will force a rewrite of every educational text in the kingdom."

"More than that," he said. "It means the war wasn’t inevitable. We chose it."

Back in the war chamber, Richard was scrubbing soot from his hands over a basin. He didn’t look up when I entered. He just waited.

"You were right," I said. "The Elder knew. About me. About the plan."

He nodded slowly, still not turning around. "Then we should make it public. No more skeletons in the closet."

I moved to the table and set down the scroll case. I didn’t say anything else. Not until the weight of everything hit me at once. The fire, the death, the legacy I never asked for but couldn’t ignore.

I stepped back from the table, trying to breathe.

He turned then. He saw my face and came to me.

"You’re shaking."

"Not because of the fire."

His hand slid up my spine, warm and grounding. "Then from what?"

"Everything. I need you to help me forget."

He kissed me. Not with pity and not with restraint. His mouth found mine like it had before battles, before speeches, in hallways too narrow for doubt. I pulled him in harder, opening my mouth and gripping his belt. I needed him to burn through what was left in me. I needed to feel something besides legacy.

He didn’t hesitate. He guided me backward until my thighs hit the edge of the table. My boots thudded to the floor as he dropped to his knees, spreading my legs with both hands and pulling my underwear down in one rough yank. His mouth was on me before I could exhale.

His tongue was greedy and deliberate, licking slow and deep while his thumbs held me open. He wasn’t soft with me. He licked me like he wanted to erase every thought I had. When I tried to close my legs, he gripped my thighs tighter and growled into me.

He worked me open with two fingers, curling them while his mouth latched onto my clit and sucked. I came once with a gasp and again almost immediately when he pressed his fingers deeper and flicked his tongue faster. I twisted against the table, hands tangled in his hair, grinding against his face without hesitation.

"Get up here," I said, breathless. "Now."

He stood, dragged me fully onto the table, and undid his pants. I watched him fist his cock once before grabbing my hips and pulling me to the edge. He did not tease. He pushed inside me in one smooth, solid thrust.

The stretch hit hard. I moaned and clutched at his arms as he fucked into me, deep and relentless. The table creaked beneath us. His hands stayed on my waist, holding me steady as he drove forward again and again. I tilted back onto my elbows, watching his face tighten every time I clenched around him.

He grabbed one of my ankles and lifted my leg over his shoulder, adjusting the angle. I cried out louder. He didn'tt stop. He only adjusted his grip and fucked me harder.

"Touch yourself," he said. "I want to see you come while I’m still inside you."

I did. I rubbed fast, desperate, and came with a sob while he kept thrusting through it. He fucked me until I begged him, until I was nearly shaking, until he came with a grunt and collapsed over me, still pulsing deep inside.

He did not pull out. He just stayed there, forehead pressed to mine.