The Gate of Eight Worlds

Chapter 6: The Alter of Glass

The pale, thorned vines surged out of the dark water like living cables, their metallic thorns scraping against the stone walls with a horrible screeching sound.

"Back onto the steps!" Caleb shouted, raising his heavy hunting hatchet as a thick tendril of iron-root snapped toward his throat. He brought the blade down with a heavy, two-handed strike, severing the vine in a spray of thick, black sap that hissed as it struck the flooded floor.

Another vine lashed out from the dark pool, coiling around Princess Rose’s ankle and dragging her toward the deeper water. She gasped as her feet slipped out from under her, her bow clattering against the slick granite.

"Rose!" Alex lunged into the chest-deep water without hesitation, his broad blade trailing a searing wake of golden light through the murky pool. He swung his sword in a wide arc, severing three thick roots in a single blow. The golden radiance surging from the crest on his palm flared violently, sending a shockwave of light through the submerged roots that caused the entire mass to thrash in agony and recoil into the dark depths of the tunnel.

Queen Natasha stepped down to the water's edge, her silver blade flashing as she severed a stray tendril crawling toward Dwaho's boots. "The light burns them! Alex, keep your blade drawn—lead the way through the pool!"

Holding his sword high to illuminate the flooded passage, Alex waded forward through the freezing water, with Dwaho, Rose, Caleb, and Queen Natasha close behind. The iron-roots hissed and shrank away from the golden glow cast by the Chosen King's palm, clinging to the far corners of the ceiling like frightened snakes as the party pressed deeper into the mountain.

After fifty paces through the icy water, the submerged floor sloped upward. The water level receded from their waists to their ankles, then gave way entirely to a wide, dry stone incline leading up to an ornate, bronze-bound archway.

"We're behind the outer gates," Caleb breathed, wiping black sap from his hatchet as he held his lantern up. "The Sunken Vault lies just beyond."

They stepped through the archway into a vast, circular chamber carved entirely from pale, translucent blue glass. High above, a domed ceiling reflected the faint light of the three moons outside through narrow, crystalline skylights. At the center of the chamber, resting atop a raised platform of polished granite, stood the Altar of Glass—and floating inches above its surface was a jagged, glowing shard of blue crystal that pulsed with the steady rhythm of a heartbeat.

"The First Piece of the Master Key," Queen Natasha said softly, her eyes reflecting the azure light.

Before anyone could take a step toward the altar, a deafening explosion echoed through the chamber. The massive, ancient vault doors at the far end of the room buckled inward, showered in sparks and dust as a heavy iron borer tore through the stone seals. Through the smoke, a dozen armored figures clad in dark plate steel marched into the vault, led by a tall man in a crimson cloak whose face was concealed behind a cold, featureless iron mask.

"General Vane," Princess Rose whispered, her hand tightening around her dagger.

The masked commander halted, his golden-armored eyes fixing onto Alex and the glowing mark on his palm. "The fallen Queen, the lost heir, and a company of relics," Vane said, his voice deep and echoing behind his iron mask like grinding stone. "You are too late, young King. The Master Key belongs to the Iron Sovereign."