The door creaked open with a sigh.
Cold air rose like a breath from the staircase below, thick with dust and something older. Orla stood at the top of the stairs, holding the broken ring in one hand, Stanley’s fingers wrapped around the other.
Neither of them said a word.
Behind them, Aster waited by the wall. Jakob stood in the hallway, unreadable.
Elias stepped forward first. “I’ll go.”
“No,” Orla said quietly. “This is mine to open.”
Stanley didn’t let go.
“Then we go together.”
The staircase spiraled down, deeper than the house should allow. The air was colder, each step echoing too long.
They reached a landing. Stone walls. Faint lights flickering to life as they passed — Clara’s handiwork. She’d designed this place to stay hidden until someone broke the ring.
Symbols lined
