“I had no idea…” Catherine voice barely rose above a whisper. “Eddie never spoke about it. I’ve always wondered why he seemed so distant.”


    Markus let out a slow breath, his shoulders sagging. “It was a turning point for him. He became cold—cut off from everything he was passionate about. From that point on, he believed Alchemy was black magic. He burned all of his textbooks, got rid of his uniform—” Markus swallowed. “It’s like he tried to erase that part of himself.”


    He hesitated, his voice quieter now. “That’s why… I’m here.” His fingers tightened on the wooden stock of the flintlock. “Because at least—I want to give back to him. To show him that he doesn’t have to throw himself into danger for my sake anymore. That someone else can protect him or anyone he cares and loves. For once.”


    “You’re a brave one, Markus.” Catherine said, smiling. “You definitely have a mark of a knight.”


    Catherine and Markus ventured further, guided by the lights of Catherine’s staff. The dense forest gradually thinned, revealing scattered fragments of stone.


    At first, just a few half-buried columns, their faded white surfaces cracked and leaning, worn down by time. The air grew heavier, thick with the scent of damp earth.


    As they ventured deeper, the ruins around them became more distinct. More columns lay toppled, some broken in half, others standing in defiance of centuries past. Then, beyond a ridge, the remnants of a vast structure emerged—a ruin far greater than the scattered fragments before.


    Its once mighty walls stood in defiance, their surfaces adorned with creeping vines and twisted roots. Whatever this place had been, nature had not only reclaimed it—it had consumed it, growing through the stone like a slow and patient conqueror.


    Markus abruptly stopped, his grip tightening on the flintlock rifle. His gaze landed on a stone sign, half-buried in the dirt. The faint, scorched lettering was written in an unfamiliar, elegant script.


    Catherine stepped closer, brushing some of the dirt away with her gloved hand. Her eyes traced the symbols carefully. “It’s Elvish,” she murmured. “‘Bastion of Craemonia.’”


    Markus let out a slow breath. “Bastion, huh?” His voice was dry, uneasy. “Doesn’t feel very bastion-like to me.” He swept his gaze over the ruins, rifle raised slightly, as if the shadows themselves might lunge at them.


    “What is this place, anyway?” Markus continued.


    “Just like the sign said, It’s Craemonia…”Catherine answered, “The Bastion of Craemonia. This was an elven stronghold, built under the reign of Emperor Nocturnilus the Conqueror.”


    “His empire reaches far at the time,” Catherine stepped forward, her staff tapping against the stones as she walked. “Weshaven might be a small island, but he probably had found some use for it. And he used this bastion as a research outpost… for Alchemy.”


    “Alchemy?” Markus raised an eyebrow. “But I thought Elves had already known Magic at that time. Like y’know… Conjuration, Illusions… Alchemy.”


    “Oh yes we did, we have everything Magic has to offer… All but Alchemy,” Catherine confirmed. “It remained a mystery for us, Alchemy came from the nomadic tribes of the eastern dunes. At the time, the Elves hadn’t discovered it yet. Emperor Nocturnilus was determined to unlock its secrets before the mortals and the dwarves.”


    “So…” Markus frowned. “What happened?”


    “If you read your history books, you should know that Nocturnilus’s reign collapsed, the once solitary Elven community integrated with the mortals, they had forgotten and lost faith to their Emperor.” Catherine’s steps slowed. She looked up at the ruined bastion. “But the remnant of his conquest lay littered across the continents, like this one here. And whatever he discovered… it wasn’t Alchemy.”


    A breeze stirred the overgrown foliage, whispering through the ruins like a voice lost in time. Markus exhaled sharply. “Then… What is it?”


    But Catherine stayed silent…


    The road ahead narrowed as they reached the outer walls—vast, towering things that still bore the remnants of intricate carvings. Beyond them, deeper in the ruins, loomed what remained of the Bastion’s inner sanctum.


    “Yeah… I really don’t like this place, Miss Catherine.” Markus adjusted his rifle uneasily. “You’re sure this is where we need to be?”


    “This is the place.” Catherine nodded, her eyes fixed on the ruin. “The Codex may be still inside.” She paused, then added, “If it’s still here.”


    Markus groaned, lowering the rifle enough to look at her. “If it’s still here? Great. We came all this way for a maybe.”


    “Not just a maybe.” Catherine smirked faintly. “A once-in-a-lifetime, maybe. There’s a difference.”


    Markus shook his head, muttering under his breath as he adjusted his grip on the rifle. “Now I get it why Eddie don’t want to go.”


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    -o-


    The mossy pavement wound between crumbling archways and open courtyards, as Catherine and Markus made their way.


    Step by step, the ruins revealed themselves. Beyond the fallen columns and collapsed archways, a massive structure came into view. The grand edifice stood partially intact, its vast stone walls weathered but unyielding. To the right, another building loomed, connected by a ruined hallway. The skeletal remains of a shattered dome crowned the secondary structure, and within its collapsed roof, an enormous telescope lay broken and rusting, its once-polished frame now dulled by time.


    Markus let out a low whistle. “That’s… not what I expected.”


    Catherine stopped beside him, her gaze sweeping over the structures. “This is the Aeron Laboratory.” Her voice carried a quiet awe. “Named after Aeron, one of the Nine Sages of Enlightenment. But before he became a Sage, this was his laboratory.”


    Markus eyed the ruins warily. “And what exactly was he researching?”


    Catherine exhaled slowly. “Alchemy. Or at least… that was the intention.”


    They crossed the threshold into the ruined laboratory. The temperature seemed to drop as they stepped inside. The roof had caved in long ago, and moonlight streamed through the gaps, illuminating rows of tarnished silver equipment. Alembics, retorts, and distillation coils still lined the cracked stone tables, their glass components shattered into jagged remnants on the floor. A thick layer of dust coated everything, disturbed only by the occasional shift of wind.


    “This was a laboratory?” Markus muttered. “Doesn’t look like much now.”


    Catherine stepped forward, brushing dust off a silver alembic, its once-polished surface dulled with age. “It was more than that,” she said. “Aeron was one of Nocturnilus’s chief researcher. This was his work.”


    Markus shot her a look. “Nocturnilus’s? You mean the same Nocturnilus who tried to conquer half the world? I didn’t expect they had worked together.”


    Catherine nodded. “Before he saw the truth of what he was serving.” She ran a hand over a series of faded engravings on the wall. “Aeron was a scholar, fascinated with the nature of Alchemy—back when the Elves knew nothing about it. Nocturnilus wanted him to uncover its secrets, to wield it as a tool of power. But… something changed.”


    Markus frowned. “What do you mean, ‘changed’?”


    “He left,” she said quietly. “Abandoned his work. Abandoned this place. He never spoke of what he found here.”


    Markus exhaled, scanning the ruined lab once more. The broken equipment, the fractured ceiling, the eerie quiet. “So whatever he discovered…” He gestured around them. “It wasn’t Alchemy.”


    Catherine didn’t answer.


    The wind stirred through the open roof, rustling the overgrown foliage. Somewhere in the ruins, something shifted—stone settling, or perhaps something else.


    Catherine tore her gaze away from the wall, stepping back from the runes. “Let’s find what we came for.”


    The arching corridor led them forward, deeper into the ruined bastion. The white stone walls narrowed, then expanded into a vast, open chamber. As Catherine and Markus stepped through the threshold, their breath caught at the sight before them.


    The Grand Hall of the Observatory stretched wide, its ceiling once a magnificent dome, now fractured and open to the night sky. Jagged remnants of the collapsed telescope loomed above, its broken frame catching the silver light of the moon. The glow filtered through the shattered structure, casting long, spectral beams onto the marble floor. Dust swirled in the air, dancing in the pale luminescence.


    At the center of the hall, standing alone beneath the celestial glow, was the lectern.


    It was ancient, carved from the same pale stone as the bastion itself. Intricate elven engravings ran along its sides, whispering of knowledge long forgotten. And resting atop it, bathed in the moon’s embrace, was a book—its leather cover faded, its gilded edges worn with time.


    Catherine’s steps were slow, deliberate. Her fingers hovered over the tome before she lifted it with a reverence reserved for something sacred. The weight of history pressed against her palms.


    She turned the first page, then another, eyes sweeping over the delicate, curling script within. The scent of aged parchment filled the air as she flipped through its contents, scanning, absorbing.


    Then, at last, she stilled. A slow, satisfied exhale escaped her lips.


    Catherine turned to Markus, her eyes gleaming with something between triumph and awe.


    “This is it,” she whispered, her voice carrying through the grand hall like a proclamation. Her fingers traced the worn title inscribed within.


    “Codex Chilandar.”


    Catherine stood still, her fingers lingering on the worn pages of the Codex, her heart still steady from the thrill of discovery.


    Then—something shifted.


    A flicker. A whisper of movement.


    The moonlight, so pristine only moments before, dimmed—just for an instant. As if something vast and unseen had passed before it.


    Catherine’s breath caught. She turned sharply, eyes scanning the ruined chamber.


    “What was that?” Markus whispered. His grip tightened around the flintlock rifle as his instincts flared. He raised the barrel, eyes darting to the shadows. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. And yet—


    A distant creak. A soft, falling pebble.


    Then—


    With a deafening roar, the ceiling above them shattered.


    White stone and rusted metal rained down as the remnants of the collapsed dome gave way. A monstrous form plunged through the fractured sky, wings of shadow unfurling with a terrible force. Dust and debris surged outward in a choking storm.


    Catherine staggered back, the impact tearing her from her thoughts. Her hands slipped—the Codex tumbled from her grasp, landing with a hollow thud before the lectern.


    Markus fired. The shot rang out, the flash of gunpowder illuminating the chaos for an instant—then fading uselessly against the dark, scaled hide of the beast.


    The creature stood before them now, massive and inescapable. Dark wings unfurled, their jagged edges slicing through the settling dust. A maw lined with glistening fangs parted, exhaling a deep, shuddering breath that smelled of ash and decay.


    And between its taloned feet, the Codex lay, untouched.


    “Markus, go.” Her voice was firm, urgent.


    He didn’t lower the rifle. “I’m not leaving you.”


    Catherine’s eyes flicked between him and the dragon.


    “Markus,” she snapped. “I can handle this. But not with you in the way.”


    He clenched his jaw. “I can help—”


    “You’ll die!”


    The words cut through the air sharper than any blade.


    Markus stiffened.


    Catherine’s expression softened, just slightly. “Go back to the Traveller’s Path, get to Eddie and Torrie.” Her voice lowered, urgent but not unkind. “I need you out of here. Now.”


    Markus hesitated. “Catherine—”


    “I have lived longer than you and your entire lineage combined.” She took a step forward, her staff firm in her grip. “I know what I’m doing.”


    The dragon inhaled sharply.


    Markus cursed under his breath. His fingers twitched against the rifle. He stole one last glance at her. Then—


    He turned and ran.


    The Grand Hall trembled behind him as the beast let out a bone-rattling snarl. The last thing he saw before vanishing through the broken archway was Catherine, standing firm, facing the creature alone.