The Cathedral Below
1325 Words
Lena dreamed of silver fire. It rose endlessly around her in twisting ribbons of light, illuminating towering cathedral walls that stretched higher than the night sky itself. Thousands of candles burned beneath black arches while distant voices echoed through the enormous chamber like prayer. Or warning.
She stood barefoot on cold white stone, wearing unfamiliar silver-black robes that flowed around her like liquid shadow.
And everyone was kneeling.
Vampires lined the cathedral floor in perfect silence, heads bowed as though afraid to look directly at her.
At the far end of the chamber stood a throne made entirely of black thorns.
The dream shifted suddenly. The candles extinguished one by one, and darkness swallowed the cathedral.
Then chains rattled somewhere below her feet.
A voice rose from beneath the stone.
“Do you remember me now?”
Lena turned sharply toward the sound.
A man stood behind her. He was tall and beautiful. His dark hair fell loosely across his forehead while ancient gold eyes fixed on her with unbearable intensity. Strange black markings curled beneath his skin like cracks spreading through marble.
She recognized him instantly. This was the chained man from her visions. Only now, he was free.
“You left me alone,” he said softly.
Pain flickered across his expression. He looked betrayed.
Lena took an involuntary step backward.
“I don’t know you.”
The man smiled sadly.
“That,” he whispered, “is the cruelest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Then the cathedral floor cracked open beneath her feet.
Lena woke with a gasp.
For one disorienting second, she didn’t know where she was. Soft candlelight flickered against dark stone walls while heavy velvet curtains swayed faintly near towering windows overlooking Blackstone. A fire burned quietly across the room.
Lena sat upright, breathing unevenly. The dream still clung to her skin like cold water. A faint sound reached her from somewhere nearby.
Music. Piano.
Slow, haunting notes drifted through the adjoining rooms with quiet melancholy, threading through the silence of dawn beneath the underground city.
Lena pushed the blankets aside and stood carefully. Someone had changed her clothes while she slept. She now wore a long black silk shirt that clearly did not belong to her, the sleeves slightly too long against her hands. Heat crept unexpectedly into her face.
The piano music continued softly.
Drawn by the sound, Lena moved toward the partially open doors connecting the bedroom to the larger chamber beyond. She stopped at the doorway.
Amias sat alone at a massive black piano near the windows overlooking Blackstone. The sight startled her.
Until now, she had only seen him controlled, dangerous, unreadable. But here, in the pale silver glow of underground dawn, he looked almost human.
His dark hair fell slightly loose instead of perfectly arranged. He has one sleeve rolled back, and his expression distant.
The music—
God.
The music sounded heartbreakingly sad.
Amias noticed her almost immediately, though his hands never stopped moving across the piano keys.
“You should still be resting.”
Lena leaned lightly against the doorway. “You say that a lot.”
“You ignore it a lot.”
“True.”
The corner of his mouth almost moved. Almost.
The melody softened gradually before fading into silence beneath his fingertips. For a moment, neither spoke.
Lena stepped farther into the room slowly. “I didn’t know vampires played piano.”
Amias lifted a brow. “We’ve had several centuries to develop hobbies.”
She glanced toward the instrument. “How old is that thing?”
“Eighteenth century.”
“Of course it is.”
Something about this version of him unsettled her differently than the cold, untouchable vampire prince she had met in the tunnels.
This felt quieter. Lonelier.
Lena moved toward the windows overlooking the city below. Blackstone appeared calmer now than it had during the night, though tension still lingered visibly in the streets. Guards patrolled the bridges between towers while silver flame lanterns burned atop cathedral spires in the distance.
Her gaze caught on the largest structure deep within the city.
Massive black towers rose around an enormous cathedral carved directly into the cavern beneath Valoria. Silver fire burned along its rooftop spires like living moonlight.
Lena’s chest tightened instantly. She recognized it.
“That’s where it is,” she said quietly.
Amias’s expression darkened.
“Yes.”
“The Hollow King.”
Silence confirmed the answer.
Lena stared toward the cathedral uneasily. Even from this distance, something about it felt wrong. Like staring at the mouth of something sleeping beneath the earth.
Her mark throbbed faintly beneath her collarbone.
“I dreamed about him again.”
Amias became very still.
“What happened?”
Lena hesitated.
The dream already felt dangerously personal somehow, but the memory of those gold eyes lingered vividly in her mind.
“He spoke to me.”
“What did he say?”
She looked down briefly. “He asked if I remembered him.”
The room fell silent.
Amias’s expression revealed nothing now, but tension sharpened visibly beneath his stillness.
“There’s more,” Lena admitted softly.
His silver gaze lifted toward hers.
“He looked…” She struggled for the word. “Sad.”
That surprised him.
She could tell.
“Sad?” he repeated quietly.
“Yes.”
The silence stretched long enough that Lena turned fully toward him.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Amias looked away first, which somehow answered the question.
Lena crossed her arms. “I’m beginning to notice a pattern around here.”
“There are things you should not know yet.”
“That’s incredibly ominous.”
“It’s also true.”
Frustration flickered through her chest again, though weaker this time. Somewhere along the way, anger had started mixing with curiosity in dangerous amounts.
She moved slowly through the chamber, taking in details she’d ignored before in the chaos of the night.
Ancient bookshelves lined entire walls. Paintings older than most countries hung between candlelit arches. Several swords rested inside a glass display case etched with silver symbols. One object caught her attention immediately.
A black crown rested alone atop a stone pedestal near the far side of the room. It had thorns, and they weren't decorative. These were real black metal thorns twisted together into something simultaneously beautiful and cruel.
The moment Lena looked at it, another flash struck her mind.
Silver fire. Kneeling crowds. The crown lowering onto her head.
Pain lanced sharply through her temple.
She flinched.
Amias was beside her instantly.
“Lena.”
She pressed a hand against her forehead, breathing unevenly. “I saw that crown before.”
His gaze shifted toward the pedestal.
“Yes.”
The softness of the answer unsettled her.
Slowly, Lena looked up at him. “It belonged to Elanis.”
Amias didn’t deny it.
The room suddenly felt colder.
“Why do you still have it?”
Something flickered behind his silver eyes then.
Grief.
Memory.
Regret.
“Because I could never make myself destroy it.”
The honesty in his voice caught her off guard.
Lena looked back toward the crown uneasily. “What happened to her?”
Amias was silent at first. Then he answered quietly:
“She died in my arms.”
The words settled heavily between them. Lena’s chest tightened unexpectedly.She shouldn’t care. Elanis wasn’t her.
And yet, somewhere deep inside her, sorrow stirred like an old wound reopening. Before she could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the chamber doors.
Yvette entered immediately without waiting.
And one look at her face told them something was wrong.
“The council has convened early,” she said.
Amias’s expression hardened instantly. “Why?”
Yvette’s silver-gray eyes shifted toward Lena.
“Because,” she said carefully, “someone entered the cathedral last night.”
Silence.
Then she added:
“And they found the Hollow King’s chains broken.”
- Writer
