The descent into the second hidden chamber beneath the ancient, gnarled willow tree felt like stepping out of a nightmare and into a fever dream of opulence. When Celine finally reached the bottom of the wooden ladder, her breath caught in her throat, and the cold, professional mask she usually wore shattered completely. The room was not dark and damp like the monster’s lair they had just vacated. Instead, it was bathed in a soft, ethereal luminescence provided by several fist-sized night pearls mounted on ornate silver sconces.
The light reflected off rows of polished wooden shelves that groaned under the weight of jade carvings, emerald-encrusted jewelry, and scrolls painted by long-dead masters of the brush. In the corners, iron-bound chests sat partially open, revealing mountains of
