Princess Of The Skulls - Chapter 57: Chapter 57

The ancient library beneath the castle had been sealed for three generations, its dusty tomes and crystalline storage devices deemed too dangerous for casual study. But as I descended the spiral staircase with Master Dorian at my side, I knew that casual study was a luxury we could no longer afford.
"Your father forbade anyone from entering this chamber," Dorian said, his voice echoing off stone walls carved with protective wards. "He claimed the knowledge contained here was too volatile for mortal minds."
"My father also tried to magically enslave me to the throne," I replied, running my fingers along the ward-carved walls. "His judgment on dangerous knowledge may have been compromised."
The massive door at the bottom of the stairs was sealed with locks both mechanical and magical. But the skull relics at my throat pulsed with recognition, and I felt the ancient magic responding to my bloodline.
The locks clicked open one by one, revealing a chamber that hadn't seen light in decades.
What we found inside took my breath away.
The library stretched beyond the reach of our torchlight, its shelves rising into shadowy heights that seemed to defy the castle's architecture. Books bound in materials I couldn't identify sat alongside crystalline matrices that hummed with stored information. Maps of realms that existed only in theory covered entire walls, their borders shifting as I watched.
"By the gods," Dorian whispered. "This is the complete archive of the Dimensional Wars."
"The what?" I asked, though the skull relics were already providing whispered explanations.
"Three thousand years ago, our world wasn't alone," he said, moving toward a crystal matrix that glowed with soft blue light. "The barriers between realms were thinner then, and travel between worlds was common. Until something went wrong."
I activated the crystal with a touch, and suddenly the chamber filled with three-dimensional images. I saw cities that spanned multiple realities, beings of impossible beauty and terrible power moving between worlds like we might walk between rooms. And then I saw the darkness that had ended it all.
"The Devourers," I breathed, recognizing the entities from nightmares I'd thought were mere imagination.
"Creatures that exist in the spaces between worlds," Dorian confirmed. "They feed on dimensional energy, consuming entire realities to fuel their growth. When they discovered the network of connected worlds, they began systematically destroying everything."
The images showed the final war, desperate battles fought across multiple dimensions as civilizations united against extinction. I watched heroes I'd never heard of make impossible sacrifices, saw entire worlds burned away to deny resources to the enemy.
"We won," I said, though the victory looked almost indistinguishable from defeat.
"Barely," Dorian agreed. "The survivors severed all connections between worlds, erected barriers that made dimensional travel nearly impossible. They chose isolation over extinction."
"And now those barriers are failing," I realized, understanding finally dawning. "The probes we've been detecting—they're not random. The Devourers are testing our defenses, looking for ways through."
"It's worse than that," Dorian said grimly. "According to these records, the barriers were designed to weaken over time. The architects of the isolation knew that eventually, contact between worlds would resume. They just hoped their descendants would be ready."
I moved deeper into the library, drawn to a section that seemed to pulse with familiar energy. Here I found books written in my mother's hand, journals that detailed her secret research into the family's necromantic abilities.
"She knew," I said, reading passages that described dimensional magic and its connection to the realm of the dead. "Mother was preparing for this. All her research, all her experiments—she was trying to understand our family's true purpose."
"Which was?"
I found the answer in a leather-bound tome that felt warm to the touch. My mother's final journal, written in the months before her death.
"'The Blackthorne bloodline carries a unique resonance with dimensional magic,'" I read aloud. "'We are not merely necromancers—we are guardians of the boundary between life and death, between our world and the hungry void that seeks to consume it. Each generation must be prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice to protect that boundary."
"The ultimate sacrifice," Dorian repeated. "What did she mean?"
I turned the page and found my answer in my mother's careful script. "Should the barriers fail, should the
Devourers find their way into our reality, and the Guardian must choose between personal survival and cosmic duty. The power to seal dimensional rifts permanently exists, but it requires the willing sacrifice of a bloodline Guardian, their life force used to reinforce the barriers for another three thousand years."
The words hit me like a physical blow. My mother hadn't been killed for political reasons—she'd been murdered to prevent her from fulfilling this terrible duty.
"Your father knew," Dorian said, understanding dawning in his voice. "He killed your mother to prevent her from sacrificing herself, not realizing he was dooming the world to face the Devourers without a trained Guardian."
"And now that duty falls to me," I said, closing the journal with trembling hands.
Through the soul-bond, I felt Aldric's presence pressing against my consciousness, sensing my distress across the miles. But I couldn't let him share this burden, couldn't let him know that our partnership might be cut short by cosmic necessity.
"There has to be another way," Dorian said desperately. "Some alternative the ancients missed."
"Maybe," I said, though my mother's words suggested otherwise. "But we need to prepare for the possibility that there isn't."
I spent the next several hours poring over the ancient texts, absorbing three millennia of forgotten knowledge about dimensional magic and the entities that lurked in the spaces between worlds. The skull relics grew increasingly active as I read, their whispers mixing with the voices of long-dead guardians who had faced similar choices.
The burden is always heavy, they murmured. But the alternative is extinction for all.
Is there truly no other way? I asked them silently.
Perhaps, came the reply. But it has never been found. Each Guardian faces the same choice—personal survival or cosmic duty. None have chosen survival.
The weight of that revelation settled on my shoulders like a physical burden. Every woman in my bloodline for three thousand years had been prepared to die for the greater good. Everyone had chosen duty over love, duty over life.
As I climbed the stairs back to the world above, I carried with me the complete knowledge of what I was and what I might have to become. The Queen of the New Dawn might also need to be the Guardian of the Final Sacrifice.
But I also carried something else—determination. My mother had tried to prepare for this burden alone, and she'd died before she could fulfill her purpose. I wouldn't make the same mistake.
If the time came for sacrifice, I would be ready. But first, I would exhaust every other possibility, explore every alternative, and ensure that if I had to die, it would be on my terms and for maximum effect.
The skull relics pulsed with approval as I emerged into the castle proper. The dead understood duty, understood sacrifice. But they also understood the importance of choosing the time and manner of one's end.
Through the soul-bond, Aldric's concern reached me across the city. I sent back reassurance mixed with love, but I kept the deeper truth hidden. Some burdens were too heavy to share, some knowledge too dangerous to spread.
For now, I would continue building our defenses, training our people, and preparing for the conflicts to come. But in the depths of my mind, I began planning for a sacrifice that might save the world—or damn it to face the hungry void alone.