Princess Of The Skulls - Chapter 23: Chapter 23

The foundation chamber was a cathedral of carved stone and malevolent energy, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into shadows that seemed to move with their own volition. Ancient runes covered every surface, glowing with sickly light as the ritual approached its climax.
At the center of the chamber stood a massive obsidian altar, surrounded by concentric circles of binding stones. And suspended above the altar, writhing in chains of pure magical force, was something that had once been human but was now much more and much less.
"Gods above and below," Prince Aldric breathed. "What is that thing?"
I approached the altar carefully, my necromantic senses screaming warnings about the barely-contained power radiating from the bound figure. As I got closer, the skull pendant at my throat blazed with sudden recognition.
"It's my grandfather," I whispered. "King Malachar the Deathbringer. The one who supposedly died in battle twenty years ago."
The figure's head turned toward me at the sound of my voice, and I saw eyes that burned with unholy fire in a face that was gaunt with decades of imprisonment and torture.
"Seraphina," he spoke, his voice like grinding stone. "My blood, my heir, you've grown strong."
"You're supposed to be dead," I said, though even as the words left my mouth, I realized how naive they sounded.
"Death?" King Malachar laughed, a sound like breaking bones. "Death would have been mercy. Instead,
I've been kept here, my power harvested year after year to fuel the binding spells that keep the true horrors at bay."
I looked around the chamber with new understanding. The ritual circles weren't designed to summon demons—they were designed to contain them. And my grandfather's necromantic abilities, magnified by decades of torment, were the primary power source.
"The demons are already here," I said, pieces of the puzzle finally clicking together.
"Beneath us," King Malachar confirmed. "Sealed away centuries ago by the first Blackthorne kings, kept imprisoned by the sacrifice of our bloodline's power. But the seals are weakening, and Cassius seeks to break them entirely."
Prince Aldric stepped closer to the altar. "Why? What does he gain from releasing demons?"
"Control," I answered, understanding flooding through me. "If he breaks the seals while he's in command of the binding ritual, he becomes their master instead of their jailer. All that demonic power serves him instead of being locked away."
"And if the ritual fails?"
King Malachar's burning eyes fixed on Prince Aldric. "Then the seals collapse without anyone to direct the released power, and demons flood the world until there's nothing left but ash and screaming."
The sound of footsteps on the stone stairs announced the arrival of others. Lord Cassius descended into the chamber, flanked by six robed figures I recognized as the cult's most powerful mages. His expression was triumphant despite the chaos we'd left behind in the great hall.
"Welcome to the heart of the Blackthorne family's greatest secret," he said mockingly. "I trust you find the accommodations educational."
"You're insane," Prince Aldric said flatly. "Even if you gain control of the demons, you'll destroy both kingdoms in the process."
"Kingdoms are replaceable," Lord Cassius replied dismissively. "Power is eternal."
He gestured to his mages, who began taking positions around the ritual circles. I could feel the magical energy in the chamber shifting as they added their strength to whatever working Lord Cassius had prepared.
"The beauty of this situation," Lord Cassius continued, "is that you can't stop me without dooming the world, and you can't let me succeed without dooming yourselves. A perfect trap."
King Malachar strained against his chains, the obsidian altar cracking under the pressure of his movements. "There is another way," he said, his voice filled with desperate hope and terrible knowledge.
"What way?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.
"The binding requires Blackthorne blood to maintain the seals. If one of our line takes my place willingly, the power transfer could be used to strengthen the prison instead of breaking it."
Lord Cassius laughed. "Exactly what I was hoping you'd realize. Yes, Princess, you can save the world—by condemning yourself to the same fate your grandfather has endured for twenty years."
I felt Prince Aldric's horror spike through our soul-bond, but beneath it was something else:
Determination.
"No," he said firmly. "There has to be another option."
"Actually," I said slowly, an idea beginning to form, "there might be."
I looked at the ritual circles surrounding the altar, noting how they were designed to channel and focus magical energy. Then I looked at Prince Aldric, remembering the power I'd felt flowing through our connection during the battle upstairs.
"The soul-bond," I said. "It doesn't just connect us emotionally—it connects our magical abilities. If I take my grandfather's place in the binding, you could help me bear the load."
"Seraphina, no," Prince Aldric said immediately. "I won't let you sacrifice yourself."
"It wouldn't be a sacrifice if we're sharing the burden," I pointed out. "And unlike my grandfather, we wouldn't be alone in the binding. We'd have each other."
Lord Cassius's expression shifted from triumph to uncertainty. "That's not how the ritual is supposed to work."
"The ritual has been running for twenty years on the power of one tormented soul," I replied. "What do you think happens when it suddenly has access to two willing souls bound together by magic and choice?"
King Malachar's eyes blazed brighter. "It could work," he whispered. "The binding would be stronger than ever, but the cost ."
"The cost would be shared," Prince Aldric said, understanding dawning in his voice. "We'd be imprisoned together instead of alone."
I nodded. "And Lord Cassius loses his chance to control the demons because the binding becomes too strong for him to break."
"You're both insane," Lord Cassius snarled. "I won't allow it."
He raised his hands and began chanting in a language that predated human civilization, trying to seize control of the ritual before we could implement our desperate plan. His mages joined their voices to his, and I felt the magical energies in the chamber building toward a crescendo that would either shatter the demon seals or bind them more strongly than ever.
"Now or never," I said to Prince Aldric.
He took my hand, our fingers intertwining as we stepped toward the altar together. "Together," he said.
"Together," I agreed.
As we reached out to touch the obsidian altar, I felt our combined will focusing on a single purpose: not to break the chains that bound the demons, but to forge new ones strong enough to hold them until the end of time.
The last thing I heard before the magical energy engulfed us was Lord Cassius screaming in rage as his carefully laid plans crumbled into dust, and my grandfather's voice whispered, "Thank you."
Then there was only light, and power, and the eternal responsibility of standing guard against the darkness.