The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 353 The Catacombs Hold Their Secrets

They exchanged a meaningful glance. Neither of them was the type to panic. They'd both seen enough battlefields to keep their emotions in check, but worry thrummed under the surface. They'd been assigned to protect Mikhailis, to ensure his safety no matter what. Right now, with half the corridor collapsed, and a group of Technomancers obviously lying in wait, that felt like a tall order. But giving up was never an option.

Vyrelda stood, slipping the scroll into a pouch on her hip. "We'll take a quick look around," she suggested, already scanning the corridor walls for any cracks or hidden passages. Her voice had that calm, methodical edge, like she was sorting through solutions in her head. "There must be another route."

Cerys nodded. Without waiting, she began checking the walls as well, pressing a palm against the dusty stone to feel for any vibrations. She remembered her training days in the knights' barracks, sneaking into restricted areas to practice after hours, and her old mentor's voice reminding her: Always look for a second exit. She never thought that advice would apply to a half-crumbled underground ruin, but life had a strange sense of humor.

They moved carefully around the main blockage, stepping over fractured wooden beams and jagged chunks of rock. Occasionally, a stone would shift under their weight, causing an unsettling groan through the corridor. Each time, Cerys tensed, bracing for another collapse. She glanced at Vyrelda, who seemed equally on edge, though her expression remained composed, her posture that of a seasoned fighter ready to strike at the first hint of danger.

Flakes of dust continued to swirl in the thick air. The torchlight was too weak to give them more than a few meters of visibility, but the runes on the walls provided a faint glow. Every so often, they'd catch sight of a flicker—a spark of residual magic that danced along the rock, reminding them how old and mysterious these catacombs were. They didn't speak much as they searched. There wasn't much to say. They both knew the stakes.

Cerys's mind drifted to the last time she'd really spoken with Mikhailis, back when the infiltration plan was first hatched. He'd been leaning against a column in the palace courtyard, cracking a half-smile at some silly remark she'd made about the mission. Even then, he had that sparkle in his eyes—like he embraced the dangers ahead not out of recklessness, but out of a genuine willingness to help others. It both annoyed and impressed her. What a fool, she'd thought at the time, and yet, I can't deny his heart's in the right place.

She tightened her grip on the sword's hilt, pushing down the pang of worry that threatened to surface again. He's tougher than he looks, she reminded herself. We'll find him.

Eventually, Vyrelda let out a small exhale of triumph. "Over here." She was kneeling beside a crumbling archway partially concealed by collapsed rock. The opening looked like a rough, narrow stairwell leading downward, edges worn smooth by time or water damage. The steps were uneven and coated with a slick layer of moss.

Cerys approached, testing the first step with her boot. It wobbled slightly, but held. The darkness beyond the arch felt deeper, like it swallowed the feeble glow from the runes. She couldn't see where it led, but the air drifting up from below carried a stale scent of old earth. This has to lead somewhere, she thought. And hopefully, it would bring them closer to Mikhailis, or at least to a place where the catacombs connected.

They paused at a half-landing where the stairs bent at an angle, the carved railing cracked and half missing. Thick moss trailed along the edges, adding a slick texture that made every step precarious. Vyrelda reached out, fingers brushing over the stone. She frowned, then turned her attention to Cerys.

"This place might connect to lower catacomb chambers," Vyrelda whispered, barely above the sound of dripping water. "We'll have to stay alert. If there were five Technomancers above, there might be more below."

Cerys nodded. "And Mikhailis and the others could have fallen somewhere down there. We can't let any of those Technomancers get to them first. The thought is... unpleasant." She didn't elaborate on what might happen if the enemy found Mikhailis at his most vulnerable. She didn't need to.

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Vyrelda exhaled softly, a mixture of frustration and determination. "We'll find them."

For a moment, Cerys's mind flickered back to the bandits who had destroyed her childhood. She remembered feeling so helpless, so powerless as the chaos unfolded. The day knights rescued her, she vowed never again to stand by while others were in danger. That vow propelled her forward now, fueling each step. She wasn't the frightened child she'd been. She was a knight, a warrior, someone who would fight even if the odds looked dire.

Another rumble shook the walls, and small stones clattered down the stairs. Cerys braced herself, wondering if this was it—if the entire stairwell would give way. But the tremors subsided. The catacombs seemed content, for now, to let them pass.

Vyrelda steadied herself against the wall. "We can't linger here," she said quietly. "If there's another collapse..."

Cerys flexed her fingers around her sword hilt, feeling the worn leather press into her palm. Her heart still pounded, but the panic never surfaced. She took a long breath, forcing the tension out of her shoulders. She heard a whisper in the back of her mind, a memory of her old mentor's voice: Focus on what you can do right now. Steady yourself. Keep moving. She bit back the pang of old sorrow—there'd be time for memories later, if they made it out alive.

She turned to Vyrelda, giving a tight nod, her expression resolute. "Let's go."