The forest fell away abruptly, the dense trees giving way to a clearing so sudden it was as though the land itself had been carved out by an unseen hand. Desmond and Alaric slowed their steps, taking in the sight before them.
At the center of the clearing stood a cabin unlike any they'd seen before. Its structure was both elegant and unsettling, as if the wood and stone had grown naturally into the shape of a house rather than being built. Vines spiraled up the walls, blooming with faintly glowing flowers that pulsed like a heartbeat. The air was unnaturally still, and even the breeze seemed to pause at the edge of Calla's domain.
"Well, this isn't ominous at all," Alaric muttered, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword.
Desmond shot him a warning look, his grip tightening on his poleaxe. "Focus. If Mirren was right about Calla, she's already watching us."
As if in answer, the cabin door creaked open. The sound echoed unnaturally in the clearing, loud and drawn out despite the oppressive silence. A woman stepped into view, her form framed by the doorway.
Calla looked younger than Desmond had expected, though there was an ageless quality to her that made it difficult to guess how many years she'd truly seen. Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and her simple dress of gray and green seemed to shift with the light. But it was her eyes that held Desmond's attention—piercing and bright, like polished silver, they seemed to look straight through him.
"So," Calla said, her voice soft but carrying an unsettling resonance, "you're the ones who dared to bring that box here."
Desmond stepped forward, keeping his expression neutral. "We were told you could help us."
Calla tilted her head, her gaze flicking between the brothers. "Help? That depends entirely on what you're asking for."
Desmond pulled the silver-inlaid box from his satchel, holding it out for her to see but making no move to step closer. "We need this opened."
Calla's lips curved into a faint smile, and she descended the cabin's steps, her bare feet making no sound as they touched the grass. "Come inside," she said, gesturing for them to follow. "We'll talk."
Alaric shot Desmond a wary glance but followed his brother into the cabin.
The interior was a study in controlled chaos. Shelves lined the walls, packed with jars of herbs, bones, and strange objects that seemed to hum faintly with energy. A single wooden table dominated the room, its surface cluttered with tools, scraps of parchment, and the remnants of some arcane experiment. The air was thick, carrying the mingling scents of lavender, smoke, and something metallic.
"Put it here," Calla said, motioning to the table.
Desmond complied, setting the box down carefully. Calla leaned over it, her fingers brushing the intricate filigree. Her sharp eyes lingered on the coiled serpent crest, her expression unreadable.
"This is an impressive seal," she murmured. "The craftsmanship is exquisite. And the magic… intriguing."
"What kind of magic?" Desmond asked, his tone measured.
Calla didn't answer immediately. She placed her hands on the box and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. The air in the cabin seemed to shift, growing colder, as though the room itself was holding its breath.
After a long moment, she opened her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line. "The seal is sophisticated, designed to deter anyone without the proper key. But I can break it."
"What's inside?" Alaric asked, his voice sharp.
Calla's silver eyes flicked to him, her expression betraying a hint of amusement. "I'm not omniscient. Whatever lies inside will reveal itself when the seal is broken."
Desmond's jaw tightened. "Then break it."
Calla hesitated, her gaze lingering on Desmond. "This isn't just any trinket. Someone went to great lengths to protect whatever is inside. If I open this, you'll owe me. Magic of this magnitude comes at a cost."
Desmond nodded. "We understand."
Calla's eyes narrowed slightly, but she turned back to the box. Her fingers moved in deliberate, intricate patterns over the surface as she began to mutter under her breath. The words hung in the air, their meaning just out of reach, resonating like the low toll of a bell. The runes on the box began to glow faintly, and the air grew colder still.
With a soft click, the seal broke, and the lid of the box creaked open.
Desmond and Alaric leaned forward, their breaths caught as Calla lifted the lid. Inside, resting on a cushion of black velvet, was a gold ring set with a crimson stone. Next to it lay a folded piece of parchment, sealed with wax.
"A ring?" Alaric said, frowning.
Calla reached for the parchment, her fingers hovering over the wax seal before she glanced at Desmond. "Do you want me to open it?"
Desmond hesitated, but his curiosity won out. "Yes."
Calla broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, her silver eyes scanning the neat script. After a moment, she looked up, her expression neutral. "It's a letter. But it's not addressed to you."
"Who's it for?" Desmond asked.
Calla handed him the parchment. "See for yourself."
Desmond took the letter, his brow furrowing as he read the name at the top: Lord Astor Valline.
Alaric stiffened. "Valline? They're one of the new families."
Desmond nodded grimly. "One of the wealthiest—and one of the most ruthless."
He read further, his stomach twisting as the letter's contents became clear. It was a detailed account of a secret meeting between Valline and several other rising noble families. The purpose was chillingly simple: to form a cabal dedicated to eliminating the remaining old houses and solidifying the new order established after the Succession War.
Desmond's hands shook as he set the letter down.
"This is more than just a trinket," he said, his voice low. "This ring… it's a symbol. A token of allegiance to their cause."
Alaric's face darkened. "They're finishing what they started during the war. If this gets out—"
"Then they'll kill anyone who knows about it," Desmond finished. He looked at Calla, who was watching them with mild curiosity. "Do you know anything about this?"
Calla shook her head. "I open doors. I don't peer behind them unless invited. But whatever you've uncovered, it's not something you want to linger over. Take your prize and go."
Desmond nodded, sealing the letter back in the box. He picked it up carefully, his mind racing.
"Thank you," he said to Calla, his tone curt.
"Thank me by leaving," she said, her faint smile returning. "And consider my debt fulfilled."
As the brothers left the cabin, the weight of what they carried pressed down on them. The letter wasn't just a relic of the past—it was a weapon, one that could change everything.
Desmond glanced at Alaric, his voice low. "We need to be careful. If Valen knows we have this…"
"They'll come for us," Alaric said grimly. "And they won't stop."
Desmond's jaw tightened. "Then we'll have to figure out how to use it before they do."
As they stepped back into the forest, the faint glow of Calla's cabin faded behind them. Whatever came next, the brothers knew one thing for certain: they had just stumbled into a conspiracy far more dangerous than they could have imagined.