The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 371 The Labyrinth's Last Secret

"So down it is." He forced a grin that he didn't quite feel. "I guess up is overrated anyway."

They turned toward the lower passage, each step echoing on the slick floor. The further they went, the more Mikhailis felt an odd energy thrumming through his skull, like static before a storm. Rhea's limp grew more pronounced, but she clenched her jaw, refusing to complain.

At last, they emerged into a cavern that was big enough to stand in comfortably. The faint glow of runes traced the walls in bizarre patterns—spirals, sigils, branching lines that almost resembled tree roots. The fragment's light brightened, illuminating jagged rocks and the glimmer of water pooling around their boots.

Another subtle quake made dust fall from above. Mikhailis braced himself, heart pounding, but the ceiling held for the moment. He could see small cracks, though, creeping like spiderwebs. No telling how much time they had left before everything came crashing down.

He let out a long breath, ready to make some sarcastic remark about how they should've just stayed in bed this morning, but a pulse of warmth from the fragment stole his attention. This thing is so persistent.

Before he could dwell on that unsettling thought, Rhea straightened, forcing herself to stand without leaning too much on him. "Let's move. I'd rather not be buried alive today."

Lira scanned the cavern walls, her fingertips gently tracing the faint etchings that crisscrossed the cracked stone. Each groove felt like it contained a story—long-forgotten events that had been buried under countless years of silence and dust. She tilted her head, dark ponytail swaying with the motion, and exhaled slowly. The air here was different from the passages above: it felt heavier, as though it carried the weight of too many secrets.

Mikhailis, supporting Rhea on his shoulder, couldn't help but notice Lira's intense focus. Even in the weak light thrown by the flickering runes, he could see her eyes narrow. "Something interesting?" he asked, shifting his stance to keep Rhea from stumbling. His voice echoed slightly in the cramped space, where every sound seemed unnaturally loud.

In response, Lira turned her face partially toward him. Though she didn't fully smile, there was a glimmer in her gaze that hinted at curiosity tinged with worry. "There's something strange about this place... These markings are older than the catacombs above," she said. Her voice was low and measured, like she was afraid the chamber might overhear.

Mikhailis took a step back, guiding Rhea closer to a portion of the wall that looked stable—just in case another quake jostled them. "Older than the death traps we already fell into? Great," he muttered, his attempt at humor laced with genuine unease. The day was only getting better, apparently.

Lira shot him a look that hovered between mild exasperation and faint amusement but continued her assessment of the runes. They twisted and coiled in ways reminiscent of vines or serpents, some etched in spirals that made no immediate sense. She brushed a speck of dust from one, revealing a symbol that might have been a stylized crest or perhaps a rudimentary representation of something monstrous. Hard to tell, but either way, it gave her an unsettled feeling.

Behind Mikhailis, Rhea clenched her jaw in frustration. She leaned her weight against a large fragment of stone, trying to take the pressure off her injured leg. It still throbbed with each pulse of blood, but complaining wouldn't help. "We're going deeper, aren't we?" she asked, her tone clipped. It wasn't really a question; she knew the answer. They had no choice.

Mikhailis gave her a half-smile—one that was more an apology than anything else. "I'd love to say we're heading to a bright exit, but it seems fate wants us to see more of this creepy labyrinth."

Rhea's breath hissed out. "Fantastic. More cursed corridors. More weird runes." She paused for a second, letting her free hand tighten around the hilt of her sword. "I'm not sure how many times I can nearly die in one day before it starts to feel normal."

Mikhailis chuckled softly, though worry pinched at the corners of his eyes. "You say that like you haven't done worse."

"That doesn't mean I enjoy it," Rhea shot back, though her tone held an undercurrent of dry sarcasm. "But if you get me killed, I'll definitely find a way to haunt you."

"Let's try to avoid that," he replied, giving her waist a supportive squeeze to reassure her. He then looked to Lira, who was still studying the runes as if they might whisper directions. "Well, oh wise one, any ideas on which way we go?"

Lira's fingertips skimmed another carved groove. She seemed to puzzle out the pattern for a moment. "The runes... they're directing us somewhere," she said at last, stepping back and scanning the stone overhead. Several lines of script led deeper into a narrow passage that curved away from the main corridor, half blocked by jagged rocks. "Judging by the symbols, it might connect to something... bigger. Or older."

A cold breeze suddenly swept through the chamber, raising goosebumps on Mikhailis's arms. The breeze shouldn't exist this far underground, yet here it was, whipping dust into little spirals that disappeared almost as soon as they formed. He felt the Mist Fragment in his hand throb with renewed energy. The mist around it thickened, slithering along his forearm like a curious serpent. Was it reacting to the passage? Or was the passage reacting to it?

He glanced down at the Fragment, seeing faint pulses of light ripple beneath its surface. A coincidence? Not likely, he thought, lips pressing into a thin line. This place was saturated with whatever ancient power he'd unknowingly awakened.

He glanced at the fragment. The mist within it coiled tighter, drawn toward the deep sanctum ahead. This thing wants something from me.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I think this piece of fancy rock is trying to lead me somewhere."

Rhea groaned. "Fantastic. More cursed artifacts leading us deeper into certain doom."

"Come on, where's your sense of adventure?" Mikhailis smirked.

"Buried under this rubble, just like we'll be if we're not careful."

They pressed on, following the shifting glow of the runes. The corridor widened into a massive hall, lined with murals of robed figures channeling mist into a central seal. The floor bore a massive, cracked emblem, leaking mist into the air like smoke from a dying fire.

Then the air shifted.

The mist thickened, swirling, forming shapes—phantoms of the past. Shadows moved at the edges of their vision. Mikhailis clenched his jaw as the temperature dropped.

A voice whispered at the edges of his mind. You carry the fragment of my will. What will you do with it?

A flicker of vision overtook him—his own face reflected back at him, but changed. Dark mist coiled around his form, his eyes aglow with an eerie, unnatural light. He stood atop a ruined city, mist crawling at his feet like living tendrils.

Is this a warning? he thought, heartbeat hammering.

Lira's voice snapped him back. "Mikhailis!"

The mist lunged.

Rhea barely had time to react as the swirling mass solidified, striking out with shadowy tendrils. She gritted her teeth, pulling her sword, but the moment she slashed, the mist reformed, slipping through her guard.

Cerys and Vyrelda burst in from the opposite corridor, eyes widening at the chaos. "What the hell is—"

"No time!" Mikhailis shouted. "Help or get out of the way!"

Cerys didn't hesitate, rushing in to intercept another strike aimed at Lira. Vyrelda pulled a dagger, scanning for weaknesses. "Any bright ideas?"

Mikhailis tightened his grip on the fragment. Re-seal it... or use it?

The choice loomed before him, and the mist laughed in his mind.

Decide.