Dawn came in blood-orange hues, casting long shadows through Brimstone Academy's west wing. Rose and Basil stood before a heavy obsidian door in the catacombs, the entrance to the vault Belladoma warned them about. Nimbus floated overhead, gnawing nervously on a glowing rune apple.
"This is either very brave or very stupid," Nimbus whispered.
"Probably both," Rose muttered.
The door was etched with mirrored runes that shimmered when Rose and Basil stepped closer. Their bond glyphs pulsed faintly in response.
Basil reached out, his palm hovering near the surface. "These symbols… they're not just locks. They're reflections. Designed to test the soul behind the magic."
"Cool," Rose said. "So we could open a vault or get vaporized."
"Technically both."
With a deep breath, they placed their hands on the runes simultaneously.
The air hummed. The runes flashed silver-blue, and the door opened soundlessly.
Inside, the vault was a cathedral of ice and shadow. Tall mirrors lined the walls—ancient, warped things, reflecting distorted versions of themselves. Their footsteps echoed as if they walked through a thousand realms at once.
Rose peered into one of the mirrors and flinched. In it, she wasn't herself. She wore a crown of antlers and her eyes burned like wildfire. "These don't show the future," she whispered. "They show who we could become."
Basil gazed at another—his reflection cloaked in gold and darkness, seated on a throne of bone. "Temptation," he said quietly. "Power without balance."
At the end of the chamber, a stone pedestal held a small box carved from moonstone and bone. Rose approached carefully.
"No traps?" she asked, half-expecting a fireball.
Instead, a whisper curled from the shadows: "Who are you, to open the gate?"
The voice echoed in every mirror.
Rose stood tall. "Rose Thorne. Lightning witch. Professional nuisance."
Basil added, "Basil Crane. Hexblade. Terrible dancer."
The vault went still. Then, slowly, the box opened. Inside was a silver ring inlaid with twin glyphs—life and death, intertwined like a heartbeat.
As Rose reached for it, the shadows recoiled, as though fearing her touch.
Nimbus gulped. "That's definitely cursed."
When she slid the ring on her finger, the entire chamber pulsed with energy. The mirrors stilled. Their reflections stopped twisting.
"It's not a weapon," Rose breathed. "It's an anchor."
Basil reached out, brushing her hand. Their glyphs flared and synced perfectly, like two puzzle pieces sliding into place. The ring glowed brighter.
Then the air thickened. Something behind the mirrors moved.
A whisper slithered through the room: "He's coming."
The shadows shifted, stretching toward them—but the ring flared, and the darkness recoiled.
Not yet.
Rose looked at Basil. "We need to get out of here."
Together, they turned and ran—vault door closing behind them, echoing like a warning.