"We should search for it," Manni interjected, his enthusiasm for the arcane sparking to life. His wizardly instincts had taken over, and he was completely invested in the mystery.
Jean frowned thoughtfully, glancing around the ominous room. "Maybe it's not completely visible yet, but with my expertise, I'm sure this is a tomb," she declared, her determination unshaken.
Manni nodded in agreement, stroking his beard as if to add credibility to her claim.
Jean stepped forward and began a series of incantations, her voice steady as she poured the necessary elements onto the ancient ground.
The room seemed to breathe with anticipation as she chanted, her words a melody of ancient power. She finished and sat back on her heels, watching intently.
Suddenly, all the candles went out, plunging the room into suffocating darkness.
The silence was deafening, save for the faint rustle of fabric as Salviana clung to Alaric's arm. "Alaric… the candles," she whispered, her voice trembling.
With a flick of his fingers, a surge of power coursed through the room. One by one, the candles reignited, their flames dancing to life. Even the empty sconces along the walls burst into light, casting long, wavering shadows.
Manni, standing to the side, gaped in awe. His eyes widened to saucers as he murmured under his breath, "The prince really is a demon."
Before anyone could respond, the ground beneath them began to tremble. Dust filled the air, swirling like restless spirits as an unknown force shook the room.
Slowly, the floor cracked open, and a large, ancient tomb emerged from the depths, its surface marred with time and grime.
Salviana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "That's the tomb I saw. This… this is Lucius!"
"It's been here all this time," Jean said softly, her voice laced with sorrow. She crouched closer, running her fingers over the markings on the lid. "But it's locked."
Determined, Jean stood and pressed her hands against the heavy stone cover. "I'll push it open," she announced, gritting her teeth as she strained against the immovable slab.
When it refused to budge, Alaric stepped forward, his expression a mixture of impatience and command. "Move out of the way," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Jean quickly stepped aside, her dark hair falling in waves as she stumbled back. Alaric raised a hand, and with a single, deliberate motion, he unleashed a surge of power.
The tomb's cover slid off with a thunderous crash, smashing into the far wall and shattering into massive pieces.
As the dust settled, the group hesitated, each step forward tentative and filled with trepidation. Their breaths caught as their eyes fell on the body within the tomb.
There lay Lucius, his form pale, bony, and unmoving, as though frozen in time. His face was hauntingly familiar, yet lifeless.
Jean cleared her throat, breaking the stunned silence. "Lucius… what next?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
But only silence answered her.
The group exchanged glances, their collective unease growing. Eight pairs of eyes met, each reflecting the same unspoken thought.
"Lucius?!" they all called in unison, their voices echoing off the stone walls.
Nothing.
"He's gone," Alaric said finally, his voice heavy with solemnity.
Jean turned to him, her brows knitting together in confusion. "Gone where?"
Alaric's gaze lingered on the body for a moment longer before he spoke. "Perhaps… into his body. The tomb must have been sealed with magic, and now that it's been opened, his spirit has been pulled back into it."
The room grew still, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows over Lucius's unmoving form.
No one dared to speak, the weight of Alaric's words hanging over them like a shroud.
The air in the chamber grew heavier, tension thick as mist. Jean's face paled further, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.
Her breathing quickened as she stammered, "What are we supposed to do now?"
Alaric crossed his arms with a nonchalant shrug. "Start chanting?"
Jean let out an exasperated huff, throwing her hands in the air. "I'm not a witch! I don't know anything about this!"
Alaric turned sharply toward the coachman. "Manni?"
Manni adjusted his hat nervously, clearly uncomfortable under the weight of expectation. "I'm a wizard, yes, but I've never raised the dead. There's no spell for that! It's the soul re-entering the body that wakes them, not magic."
"That's already happened," Jean said, her voice trembling as she clutched her chest, her fear palpable.
Salviana, her emerald eyes sharp and focused, cut through the panic with a pointed question. "Do you think he's actually a vampire?"
Alaric frowned, kneeling beside the motionless Lucius. Gently, he lifted an eyelid, peering into the lifeless depths. "His eyes are dead," he muttered grimly.
"Fangs!" Salviana exclaimed suddenly, her voice tinged with alarm.
Startled, Alaric leaned closer and pried open Lucius's mouth. His sharp intake of breath echoed in the tomb as he leaned back. "He is. He is a vampire."
Jean, still trembling, managed to find her voice. "Maybe… maybe nature sent you here for a reason," she suggested hesitantly.
Manni nodded in agreement, his gaze bouncing between Jean and the others. "That makes sense."
Alaric scowled, clearly irritated. "What do you mean by that?"
Jean ignored him and turned to Salviana, her tone growing urgent. "Can you give him your divine blood? It might be enough to wake him."
Salviana nodded, her expression resolute. "I was already thinking about that. That's why I asked if he's a vampire."
Alaric bristled at the suggestion, his jaw tightening. "I don't like this idea."
"We have no choice," Jean pressed, her voice rising. "If we don't wake him now, he might actually die—for real this time!"
"I don't want that," Salviana said firmly, her voice laced with determination.
"Neither do I," Manni chimed in from his corner, his enthusiasm betraying his eagerness to see what would happen next.
Alaric ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration and uncertainty etched across his face. "What if he's my father?"