The interior of the cathedral was a symphony of whispers and chanting as Eliosa led the other children in a repetitive prayer. Her voice was steady, but her eyes kept darting toward the heavy shadows of the East Wing. She counted the heads of the children. One was missing.
Young Lord Julian had always been a boy of two natures: the reckless explorer and the heir to Duke Hektor's cautious wisdom. As he crept toward the Vault of the Golden Chalice, the air began to grow impossibly cold. The light from the stained glass didn't seem to reach this far; it died a few feet away, swallowed by a thick, unnatural gloom.
Julian stopped just inches from the iron-bound door. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers twitching toward the cold metal. But then, the voice of his father echoed in his mind: "A true leader is not led by his whims, Julian. Be sensible. Know when a door is meant to stay closed."
The boy's breath hitched. The curiosity that had been burning in his chest suddenly flickered and died, replaced by a cold, instinctive dread. He withdrew his hand and took a slow step back. He decided he would go back to the group. He would be the "sensible" heir his father wanted.
He turned to leave, but he wasn't alone.
A figure, draped in a heavy, nondescript cloak that seemed to blend with the stone pillars, materialized from the darkness behind him. Before Julian could even gasp, a firm, gloved hand landed on his shoulder and gave a violent, calculated shove.
Julian stumbled forward, his small boots skidding on the marble. He collided hard with the vault's door, his shoulder hitting the cold iron with a dull thud.
The shadows didn't wait.
The defense mechanism Regina had set was absolute and unthinking. The darkness behind the tapestries didn't see a child; it saw a breach. In a heartbeat, the shadows surged forward like a tidal wave of ink. They wrapped around Julian's ankles, his waist, and his throat, stifling his scream before it could leave his lungs.
The boy was pulled into the pitch-black maw of the restricted zone, his small hand clawing at the floor for a fraction of a second before he was dragged into the void.
From the safety of the pillars, the cloaked man watched the shadows settle back into their defensive positions, looking once again like harmless silk tapestries. He didn't stay to help. He vanished into the secret passages of the church, leaving only the chilling silence of a missing child.