Archie stepped out of the library just before dawn.
The sky was pale, the blood moon fading into a dull red smear above the city. The two guards he had left at the entrance were stirring awake. Their necks had already straightened the bones knit and the flesh repaired.
One of them groaned and pushed himself up slowly.
"He was fast," the first guard muttered.
The second touched his throat and frowned. "I will remember those eyes of his."
They did not say more. Pride hurt more than broken bones.
Archie did not look back at them. The air outside felt different. Lighter.
Across the city, inside the Earl's manor, Marius Darian stood by a tall window overlooking the sleeping streets.
He had felt it.
A pulse, very subtle and ancient.
The Guardian had acted this time around and that made him feel a great level of unrest.
"The Archive does not stir without cause," he murmured.
He turned away from the window. His instincts moved toward one name.
Duncan Silverhood.
ΩΩΩΩ
Deep beneath the Viscount's manor, past wine cellars and abandoned chambers, stone changed.
The carved walls became older. Rougher. Marked with symbols not used in modern courts. Runes layered over runes. Some in the language of vampires. Some older than their empire.
Duncan descended alone.
The power he had stolen still burned in his veins. It was unstable. It pressed against his skin like something trying to get out. But he enjoyed it. Every step felt lighter. Every breath tasted richer.
He reached a circular chamber sealed by a wall of dark stone etched with glowing lines.
At its center was a sigil shaped like a broken sun.
He stopped in front of it.
"So this is what you hid," he whispered.
The Duke's line had sealed this chamber centuries ago. Officially, it was declared a relic vault. Forbidden and to be Untouched.
Duncan did not believe in untouched things.
He extended his hand toward the seal.
The runes reacted instantly. Red light flared. The chamber trembled faintly.
He smiled.
"Do you fear me?" he asked softly.
There was no roar from within. No monstrous howl.
Only silence.
He pressed his palm harder against the sigil.
Power surged from his veins into the barrier. The runes flickered. A thin line appeared across the stone. Barely visible.
A crack.
The chamber grew colder.
Duncan felt it then, not rage, not hunger just presence.
On the other side of the seal, something shifted.
Slowly and Deliberately.
Duncan's smile faltered for a fraction of a second.
He stepped back, studying the crack.
"I will not break you today," he murmured. "But you will serve me."
He turned to leave.
Behind him, inside the sealed darkness, there was movement.
A single breath echoed in the chamber.
And from within the crack in the ancient barrier, two eyes opened.
The blackness was not nothingness.
In addition to the broken seal, there were chains that were lying over a circular hall cut out of more ancient stone than the manor above it. Symbols were engraved in the walls, and placed there in deep patterns. Vampire script. Ancient binding marks. Seals strengthened and strengthened during centuries.
The whole thing was centered on a man.
Blackened ligatures were inscribed on his wrists, with incandescent drawings. The stone about him was perforated with similar anchors after which he was tied to the chamber. He was upright
Waiting.
The slightest fraction of the outside air escaped through the crack in the barrier.
His chest rose.
Slowly.
Then fell.
A breath.
The opened eyes were not wild. Not glowing. Not monstrous.
They were human.
Sharp. Aware.
His boots moved dust and he straightened his head in the direction of what made people think he thought was listening to something very high up in the air. The chains gave a slight metallic straining.
He did not struggle.
He tested the chains strength.
The walls with the runes fluttered with movement in response to his movement, and narrowed into a grim threat.
Duncan was standing at the bottom of the staircase far above.
He felt it.
A resistance.
No crashing of power against his own.
Just pure will.
He frowned.
"So you are awake" he said to himself.
He had expected rage. Or madness. Something feral and ancient.
Rather, he was aware of calculation conforming slightly to the seal.
He put his palm again on the stone, but long enough to feel the response.
Twitching on the other side, the fingers of the man.
The smallest motion.
The chains vibrated.
Duncan pulled his hand back.
He realized something at the time.
This was not a relic.
This was not a beast.
This was a sort of thing that had been hoarded up.
Something that had had to be willed.
The sunrise was all the darker greyings of the city above, and all the greetings of spring.
Archie stopped half way on a tower in the distance.
There was something touching his senses that was strange, a very disturbing feeling.
Old fashioned in a manner that was out of keeping with the world he was now in.
He slightly frowned and turned in the direction of the manor of the Viscount, without understanding why.
The emotion died away almost at the same time.
In the closed room below the man threw his head up in the first time in centuries.
His lips parted.
That which made its departure was harsh with neglect, but stable.
"Finally."
Duncan did not go back to the upper floors at once.
He stood there in the passage leading to the closed room, looking at the old wall as though it could be talking.
The crack between the sigil was still thin. Hardly the thickness of a nail. However, he was able to sense the difference. The air itself had changed. The room did not seem inanimate anymore.
It felt aware, whatever was sealed inside was terrifying but he was desperate to bend it to his will
He made a sigh and laid his palm upon his breast. The stolen power within his being throbbed to the seal in opposition.
"So you resist," he murmured. "Good."
He preferred resistance. It meant the prize was worthy.
There were sounds of footsteps somewhere on the stair behind him.
Duncan turned.
One of the subordinates was standing by the rim of the corridor, with the head bent low. He had definitely experienced the commotion.
"My Lord" the vampire, said, "there was a difference in the lower seals of the manor, The sentinels on the outside are speaking of rumors about the seal breaking"
The look on the face of Duncan relaxed.
"It was a relic chamber that responded to me,Nothing more."
The subordinate hesitated." And shall we tell the Earl this?"
The air in the passageway appeared to grow colder.
Duncan moved nearer, his eyes contracted slightly.
"And prove myself inferior to him, this is my territory and I would act as I see fit, or do you have a problem with that" he said coldly
The vampire swallowed and even subdued his head. "No, my Lord."
"Good."
The subordinate fled away.
Duncan glanced one more time into the closed chamber, and climbing up the stairs. He would not rush this. The cracks propagate more slowly when strained slowly.
He would nurse the seal in a nice manner.
Patiently.
ΩΩΩΩ
In one of the inner rooms across the city Earl Marius was seated.
"The Viscount is disturbing what he's not to touch" the Earl told himself.
He shut out his eyes and stretched his senses to the world. The throb which he had experienced above had not disappeared. It was left hanging like a wave in a lake once a stone was thrown into.
Duncan was moving pieces.
And the Guardian had stirred.
It was not accident that two ancient systems were moving simultaneously.
Marius awoke with a slow opening.
"I can't act now due to he duke supporting the Viscount, hopefully the forces he's messing with fights back" , said he under his breath.
ΩΩΩΩ
The night was again with unnatural speed falling.
The room was quiet in the depths under the manor.
The man inside himself was not in distress.
He put the strain of the chains to test, this time attentively. The metal grumbled slightly, responding to the strength that did not appear to be in any way relative to his human power.
And he examined the crack in the seal.
Small pieces of rock became shaken and dropped down on the earth.
He put his eyes shut and listened.
Layers of earth and stone conveyed the beat of the city above to him. The flow of the immortal predators. The shifting of power. The odor of vanity and wickedness.
His fingers curled slowly.
The warnings that flared out on the wall in runes.
A weak smile came to his mouth.
In the upper part of the chamber, deep down the foundation stones of the manor, there was another fracture made.
Small but spreading.
And somewhere in the Archive the Guardian stood in the middle of the step.
His eyes were facing away to the Viscount manor.
It brought back his old countenance with a degree of uncertainty as never before in centuries.
"The seal grows weaker with each passing day" he said with a sigh
One of the tying chains made a sharp metallic sound back in the darkness underneath the manor as it shattered.