Chapter twenty-five
Elizabeth is swallowed by the sand
Under the crackling sky, where thunder roared like a beast, four figures stood rooted to the spot, their eyes unfocused and mouths agape in disbelief.
The air was thick with tension as the storm unleashed its fury, and just before another jagged fork of lightning illuminated the dark sky, Lucius broke the silence with a desperate shout, “Quick, get aboard!”
With determination coursing through her veins, Elizabeth surged forward, her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. In a desperate act of faith, she flung the intricately crafted ship model into the relentless depths of the swirling black sea.
Miraculously, ‘The Medieval Diadem’ rose majestically from the murky water, its sails unfurling and billowing like the wings of a great bird just as a fierce bolt of lightning dissipated into a shimmering vapor inches above their heads.
Gasping for precious air, the group scrambled onto the deck, urgency and fear propelling them forward, all except—
“Wait for me!” Elizabeth cried, her words barely audible above the tempest, as she fumbled to regain her footing.
“Quick, c’mon!” Lucius shouted frantically, his knuckles white around the rudder wheel as he fought to maintain control, eyes darting to the approaching danger.
With determination mingled with fear, Elizabeth bolted towards the deck, but just as she made her move, a monstrous wave loomed overhead, surging toward her like a hungry predator. She lost her footing, sliding across the slick surface, and tumbled into the coarse, wet sand.
Not far from her, a sinister, greenish tendril slithered from a yawning chasm, wrapping and coiling around Elizabeth's leg like a predatory vine. With a fierce tug, it yanked her downward into the earth’s embrace, dragging her into the inky blackness below.
“Eliza, no!” Penelope screamed, her face pale, eyes wide with horror as she snapped her gaze toward the chaos. “Lucius, form a plan!”
As Elizabeth plummeted downwards, the shifting sands quickly enveloped her, drawing her further into the darkness.
With a bone-jarring crunch, she landed in an expansive, shadowy chamber, the air thick with the smell of damp stone and ancient secrets.
Struggling to her feet, Elizabeth cast a wary glance over her shoulder, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. She found herself in an opulent room, its grandeur muted by shadows, the walls adorned with faded tapestries and intricate carvings that whispered tales of a long-lost time.
At the far end of the corridor, an imposing door stood slightly ajar, the darkness beyond tantalizingly unknown, inviting her to step forward into whatever lay ahead.
Elizabeth crept toward it, trying to keep as quiet and still as possible. Then, she came across a dusty, locked box. A small, rusty keyhole was at the center of the box. Inside, Elizabeth could see stripes of light beaming out from it.
Her curiosity got the better of her, and soon enough, Elizabeth found an oddly-shaped key between a box of forgotten trunks.
With a sense of excitement, Elizabeth inserted the key right into the keyhole, and to her surprise, it turned, and the box clicked open.
As she slowly opened the box, a faint smell of aged paper wafted out with the wind.
Inside was a stack of handwritten books, yellowed in time.
‘I, Joanna the Great, wrote them, trying to tell the world the real view of the Dark Era. Yet no publisher wanted to put the book on sale since they knew the consequences. The Dark Era was like a disaster to humankind, a fatal disease no one can get rid of, and only much worse.’
The Dark Era — a tyrant’s trap
Back in the day, when the world was a whole lot different, there was this magical place called Alfheim.
It was ruled by these mysterious folks known as the nonblenders. Among them, the most talked-about was the Dark Lord—the first one to step onto this enchanted land.
Everyone had their stories about him, but I was lucky enough to get into his fancy school. This wasn’t just any school; it was where dreams and knowledge mixed together under his watchful eye. The hallways were always buzzing with talk about power and the chance to change your life.
Every single lesson felt like stepping into something way beyond the boring everyday life. He was always going on about how the world was like this beautiful tapestry of justice, where everyone should be treated fairly, like equal threads. But have you ever thought about why he called himself a Lord while telling us we couldn’t even whisper that word? It doesn’t make much sense, does it?
It was a huge contradiction wrapped in his authority, and honestly, it just showed how insecure he really was. He kept the truth hidden from us, scared that if we found out, we’d rise up against him. Instead of lifting us up and helping us realize our worth, he shoved this cold doctrine down our throats, telling us that following our instincts was a big no-no. The worst part? We couldn’t even dare to question what the big shots said. During our first year, things were still somewhat warm; recess was our little slice of heaven. When the pressure got too heavy, we’d lift our voices in protest, tasting a bit of freedom that felt just out of reach.
Getting made a prefect in our second year was like stepping into the sunlight after being in the dark. We wore badges with slogans that really pumped you up—‘Never be ashamed of who you are, ‘cause you’ve got a gift’ and ‘Cut through the crap, take action!’ Those words hit hard, creating this bond among us that felt special.
But then, everything changed overnight. On the second day of that awful year, tranquility shattered like glass. It was like a punch to the gut, and we couldn’t believe what was happening.
I woke up to a nightmare that would stick with me forever: my closest friends were rolling on the cold floor, groaning and writhing in pain like they were caught in some twisted horror movie. I tried to rush over to help, but a sharp pain shot through my belly, reminding me that chaos had dropped in uninvited.
Right then, I knew I needed to talk to the headmaster, Maxwell Ellis. He had this calm vibe about him and said I had caught some crazy infection he called the ‘Mind-eating germ.’ He told me the only cure was a strong mind—a stubborn belief in my own judgment instead of blindly trusting everyone else. As we talked, the air felt heavy with tension when we found out that the Dark Lord was stepping in to replace Maxwell.
Even though he looked calm, there was something unsettling in the way he told me to keep my thoughts to myself, a warning that buzzed in my head like a swarm of bees. Then we met him—the guy who called himself a Lord. Seeing my classmates in agony, he swaggered over with a creepy grin, holding out vials he claimed had the antidote. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling these were nothing but poison dressed up in a pretty bottle. As he moved closer, brandishing his sword like some kind of twisted showman, I remembered Maxwell’s advice.
Quick on my feet, I pretended to drink the nasty potion. When his back was turned, I dumped it into a flowerpot, letting the dirt swallow my secret. Thank goodness I did, because those who took the potion dropped dead right there. It hit me hard: only those who actually think for themselves and engage in their studies will make it through this nightmare. The Dark Lord, clueless about my trick, launched into a creepy lecture about how he was going to fix our school. He called our beloved teachers useless and introduced bizarre subjects like ‘Life’ and ‘Disgust Love,’ wrapped up in his messed-up ideology.
In his rambling about ‘LIFE,’ he droned on about how under his thumb, our lives were his to control. According to him, we belonged to him completely.
He said he was doing us a ‘favor’ by providing food and clothes, but really, it was just until we were too weak to serve him anymore.
The moment we became a burden?
We were expected to end it ourselves.
He even went so far as to say that love was reserved for devils, and anyone caught showing affection could face execution. He cracked down hard on anyone who smiled too much or seemed too happy. It felt like we were trapped in a gloomy prison. But there was this one girl who stood by me, determined to keep her own thoughts.
Her bravery cost her dearly; I watched in horror as they tortured her with that cursed Curse Mirror—a vile relic that ripped pain from the soul. Even in her last moments, she still clung to hope, whispering tearfully to me that I would be alright, believing that a better future awaited, and we would all be safe and sound. That’s when it hit me: sometimes, death can be a welcome escape from the horror we were living.
Her tragic end was a brutal reminder for me, pushing me to leave the school before I fell into the Dark Lord's clutches.
The years passed by in a blur of darkness, leading to an unexpected and twisted encounter. At a big gathering, the Dark Lord recognized me as the most powerful soulblender in all of Alfheim and kidnapped me, forcing me to marry him against my will.
As fate would have it, we had six kids together. That’s when I realized just how deep his manipulation ran—he and Odin were using me to create a lineage of powerful heirs to stretch his dark influence over Grekheim.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from NovelBin. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
It became clear he needed something to gain immortally—I should’ve know.
It breaks my heart to tell you this, but after the kids were born, he just tossed me aside like yesterday's trash. He threw me into the abyss of Ginnunga, a cold, lonely pit that felt a million miles away from my precious babies.
Meanwhile, he took our kids to his dark palace, planning to mold them into mindless tools without a rebellious thought in their heads. My second daughter, Datura, and her brother Morris fell right into his trap, becoming pawns for that Fairy Lord.
Together, they started this wicked group, the Evil Scarlet Association, spreading fear and making life a living nightmare in Alfheim with their cruelty. But thank goodness not all my kids were lost to that darkness.
Veronica, bless her heart, wasn’t having any of it. She set up the Soulblender Institute, a beacon of hope that saved thousands from the Fairy Lord’s grip.
Then there’s Victoria, the Astral Soulblender, who bravely jumped between Alfheim and Midgard, doing whatever it took to find hidden soulblenders and rescue them from danger.
Emily, on the other hand, played her cards close to her chest. She became a spy, moving silently in the shadows. She even created the Evil Scarlet prison, a chilling place that was responsible for lost lives, proving just how good she was at blending in. As for me? I found a way to bring a little light into all this darkness. I set up an aquarium to connect Alfheim and Midgard, a symbol of hope and togetherness.
With my loyal crew, we snuck into the Ethereal House, where I took on the role of a counselor. It wasn’t much, but it gave me a peek into the hidden corners, where I could hold back the tide for folks whose lives were hanging by a thread. It’s a tough world out there, but I’m holding on, hoping for a way to make things right again."
Elizabeth slammed the book shut, the sound echoing like a thunderclap through the dimly lit cabin.
Her heart raced, a wild rhythm of exhilaration and dread, as she felt herself teetering on the brink of uncovering her family's long-buried mystery.
Yet, a sinking realization gnawed at her—Josephine’s meticulous records had glaring omissions, most notably the fate of her first daughter, Dolores.
What dark secrets lay hidden in the shadows of the past?
As she grappled with this unsettling thought, muffled voices floated down from above, pulling her mind back to the urgent present. Her friends were plotting her rescue.
“How do we get to her?” Penelope fretted, her voice strained with worry, eyes wide and glimmering with desperation.
“Not to worry! She’s trapped in a hidden pit on the island that leads directly into a mysterious cave at the perilous edge of this menacing lake,” Lucius replied, his voice brimming with an unsettling cheerfulness. His tousled hair whipped about him in the gusts of wind, framing a face alight with determination.
“And what’s our strategy for rescue?” Percy chimed in, his brow knitting together in concentration as he scanned the horizon, searching for answers. “Where exactly is this entrance?”
“Right beneath our very ship, the Medieval Diadem,” Percy revealed, pointing dramatically at the vessel’s battered hull that bobbed atop the churning waves.
“Then let’s jump!” Lucius shouted, his bravado outweighing his caution as he launched himself into the inky depths of the sea. But as if an invisible barrier had turned the surface into glass, the water bounced him back with surprising force, sending him crashing against the ship’s side, sputtering with laughter and disbelief.
“We can’t just dive in there,” he gasped between chuckles, shaking his head as he steadied himself on the deck.
“Only the heirs of Joana the Great can access that realm in their distinct manner,” Percy croaked, his voice rich with mystery and seriousness. “But there is another way to save Eliza; we must unlock the door to the realm of the unknown.”
“What does that entail?” Penelope asked, curiosity flashing in her eyes.
“I believe she has unwittingly ventured into a land sealed by the Fairy Lord,” Percy replied, his tone dropping to a whisper as he unveiled a gleaming crystal screen alongside three ornate crystal vials, each swirling with iridescent liquid.
“Let’s combine our efforts.”
With deft movements, he uncorked one of the vials, releasing a cascade of silvery mist that spiraled upward like a swarm of ethereal fireflies, allowing a delicate flower petal to materialize amidst the drifting vapor. He tossed it into a cauldron he had conjured, and a vibrant plume of green smoke erupted like a spell gone awry, filling the air with a sweet yet acrid scent.
“Quickly! Add that golden liquid from the next vial; just a single drop is all we need!” Percy urged, urgency lacing his tone as Penelope hesitated, her fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and fear as she reached for the vial.
Suddenly, a rumbling voice reverberated beneath their feet, creating a tremor that shook the very foundation of the ship.
Peering through the gaps created by their clenched fists, terror gripped their hearts as their horror-stricken gazes fell upon the island, splitting open with a deafening roar, revealing a narrow passageway shrouded in darkness.
“Should we dare to enter?” Lucius suggested tentatively, his voice wavering yet resolute. “I say we embrace the risk.”
He drew a deep breath, squaring shoulders, and stepped toward the gaping abyss, despite the tremors echoing through his body, he bravely pressed into the uncertainty that lay ahead
Penelope's heart raced faster than ever as she peered into the yawning void, fear and determination blending as she envisioned the peril that awaited them in the shadows ahead.
Time slipped away like sand through fingers as Penelope and Percy stood together, their eyes fixed on the shadowy passageway ahead, tension crackling like static in the air.
The dim light flickered ominously, casting elongated shadows that danced along the walls, adding to the unsettling atmosphere.
Suddenly, a piercing chorus of screams echoed from the depths below, its chilling sound cutting through the silence like a knife.
Penelope halted abruptly, her heart racing.
“Trying to save your girlfriend, aren’t you?” a mocking voice reverberated from the darkness, dripping with malice.
For a heartbeat, time seemed suspended; both friends froze, suspended in shock and dread.
Penelope’s shrill cry broke the spell, stirring Percy from his stupor, and in a whirlwind of emotion, Penelope dashed forward.
She sprinted down the narrow passageway, her breath coming in quick gasps, propelled by fear and urgency.
“Lucius? Lucius!” she cried out, her voice a desperate plea that echoed against the cold, damp walls. Wild strands of her hair whipped behind her like flags of distress as she sprinted, her mind a storm of worry and hope.
A beat later, the sound of hurried footsteps approached from the distance, breaking the tension, drawing close. Penelope whirled around, her gaze locking onto Percy, who was rushing after her, determination etched on his face.
“We ought to fight together!” he declared, brandishing his weapon—a shimmering blade that reflected the scant light with cold precision. “Good,” Penelope whispered, her voice a mere tremor in the air, “I heard footsteps.”
“Hide, Eliza, don’t mind me,” came Lucius's strained whisper, a hint of urgency in his tone.
“Thanks, Lucius, but—” Elizabeth groaned, her voice edged with frustration as if caught in a struggle of her own.
From the oppressive shadows, beams of flashlights suddenly burst forth, illuminating the scene with harsh clarity.
Lucius was half-kneeling on the stone floor, pain etching deep lines across his face, blood trickling down his chin.
Beside him, Elizabeth stood firm, a dagger clutched tightly in her hand, ready to face whatever danger approached.
“I always thought you would learn something,” a sinister voice sliced through the air, sending a chill down Elizabeth's spine.
She froze, recognition flooding her senses. “Datura?” she gasped, disbelief and fury coursing through her veins.
“What do you want to do?” she shrieked defiantly, her entire being shaking with indignation as she glared Datura’s ominous presence.
“Be quiet, girl!” Datura retorted sharply, stepping forward with deliberate slowness, her eyes cold as they fell on Lucius, still helpless on the ground.
In an instant, Datura’s henchmen seized Lucius with force, wrenching him upward, hoisting him roughly to his feet, their eyes narrowing on Elizabeth.
“Hand over your bag,” Datura demanded, her tone low with menace, brokering no argument.
Elizabeth hesitated, dread gripping her heart. Lucius’s life hung in the balance; she could not bear to lose him. Yet the contents of her bag were vital—the irreplaceable amulet and the precious map—Wait, the map—
With a sudden rush of clarity, she carefully extracted the map from her bag, praying for stealth as she unrolled it.
Bold letters leapt out at her: "Take risk, take action." Taking a steadying breath, she focused, incantations escaped her lips, using the calmest voice she could now master.
The atmosphere around her crackled with tension as, slowly, a shimmering replica began to take shape in a vivid blue light, mesmerizing in its appearance.
“Here you go, the leather bag,” Elizabeth said, striving to sound casual as she handed over the bag, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Okay—” Datura replied slowly, skepticism settling over her features as she lifted the bag upside down and watched the fakes tumble to the cold stone floor.
“Good,” sighed Datura, a satisfied smirk appearing on her lips. She raised a small crystal bottle, catching flashes of light and reflecting it ominously.
"If that is the authentic amulet, we can utilize it to execute our plan." Her followers' faces lit up with eagerness, eyes gleaming with expectations. “Minimize them, place them in the bottle, and bring that guy with us,” Datura commanded with cold authority.
As the cloak of dusk settled over the dimly lit room, the air thick with tension, Datura and her cronies worked tirelessly, their nimble fingers transforming the counterfeit amulets.
Each one shrank under their careful manipulations, the intricate designs becoming less defined.
Penelope, heart racing like a wild stallion in her chest, emerged from her secretive nook behind the frayed curtain, her breath shallow and quick.
When Lucius’s weary, shadowed gaze finally found her, urgency colored his voice as he breathed, “Take the ship model and this.” With a deliberate motion, he produced a small ring, its golden band glinting in the faint light.
Set within it was a magnificent sapphire, deep blue and luminous, reminiscent of a tranquil sea under a full moon.
“This power ring,” he continued, “can serve as your ally against the forces of evil and may be your safeguard in the gravest of dangers. I can’t predict when our paths will cross again, my dear—”
His eyes anchored on Penelope’s shimmering blue orbs, which sparkled with a mixture of determination and trepidation, forging a silent bond that pulsed with unspoken words and deep emotions, a silent tapestry woven from threads of longing and the weight of impending loss.
In that fragile moment, time itself seemed to stand still; the bustling world around them dissolved into a blur, leaving only their intimate gaze—a silent exchange that pulsated with unexpressed affection, tenderness, and an echo of sorrow that hung between them like a fragile thread.
With a bittersweet smile that danced upon his lips, Lucius gently nudged Penelope back toward her hiding place, the urgency of the moment palpable, just as Datura’s frosty gaze shifted back to him, icy and unyielding.
“Come on!” she urged harshly, her grip like iron around Lucius’s wrist as she dragged him towards her men. Moments later, illuminated by erratic beams of light, they vanished into the depths of the cave.
As their ominous presence receded, Elizabeth scanned their surroundings, ensuring the coast was clear before straightening her posture, determination radiating from her.
“Penelope, are you all right?” she asked gently, resting a reassuring hand on Penelope’s shoulder. Penelope remained frozen, trembling, her lips quivering as she fought back tears that threatened to spill over. Her fingers tightly clutched the sapphire ring, its cool surface grounding her in a moment of despair.
“It’s going to be alright,” Elizabeth comforted, her voice soft yet firm.
“Yeah,” Penelope replied hoarsely, her tears spilling over at last, leaving streaks down her cheeks.
“What’s next?”
“Find the last jewel, of course,” Percy interjected, his voice carrying a glimmer of hope, trying to buoy their spirits.
Elizabeth tightened her grip on Josephine's journal, her fingers trembling as an almost electric sensation pulsed from the depths of the ornate box. It was as if the very pages were alive, whispering a desperate call that urged them to press forward.
In an instant, the chamber erupted into chaos. The stone floor bucked and heaved beneath them, jarring them with the ferocity of a wild animal thrashing against its confines.
Dust swirled in the dim light, and the shadows cast by the flickering torches danced menacingly on the walls. The once-secure chamber began to constrict, its ancient stones grinding together like teeth, sealing shut with a deafening growl that echoed their urgency.
Time was slipping away like grains of sand through an hourglass, each moment more precious than the last.
Panic threatened to claw at their resolve, but fear and pain were mere specters in the face of their unwavering commitment. Linked by a shared purpose, they steeled themselves, ready to confront whatever dark forces awaited them in the depths of the unknown.