Tom stared at the door in silence.
It didn't hum with power. It didn't radiate magic or menace. It just… existed. Quiet. Patient. The kind of door that could wait centuries to be opened—and wouldn't care if the world had changed in the meantime.
"I don't like this," Tom muttered. "Whatever's behind there… it's not meant for you."
…
In the dim, winding stairwell beneath the tower, Michael and Tom climbed slowly, their footsteps echoing against the stone. The lantern in Tom's hand cast flickering light along the narrow spiral, pushing back the fog that had begun to thin after the assassin's retreat.
They moved in silence, the only sound the creak of old stone and their breathing.
Then Tom finally spoke.
"So… you don't seriously believe that story she told, right? About some ancient door leading to a forgotten temple of the Night Goddess?"
Michael gave a sideways glance, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You're the one with the mind-walking ability. Shouldn't you already know what I think?"
"First off," Tom sighed, "it's sleep walking, not mind walking. And second, it works differently on humans and binders than it does on other Walkers. You're a Walker, remember? I can't just stroll through your thoughts whenever I like."
"Unless I get emotional and start losing it?" Michael said with a smirk.
"Exactly," Tom muttered. "Which you do more often than you think."
Michael chuckled, then slowed his steps. "Still… why shouldn't I believe her?"
"I did erase the assassin's memories for you," Tom said flatly. "That should count for something."
"Yeah, yeah," Michael waved it off. "Alright, fine. I'll tell you why I believed her."
….
The ancient tomes within the Library of Blood Keep held detailed accounts of the fortress's long and haunting history—who built it, who once lived within its walls, and the strange, terrible things that had occurred there. Yet, among all its mysteries, none were more enigmatic than the Temple of the Goddess.
During the reign of Aldric the Undying, the Vampire King, the first court to inhabit Blood Keep were devout followers of the Goddess of the Night—the Mother of All Life. It was said that they harnessed the strength of the Draff, a mythical race of ancient beasts, to carve the Blood Keep into the Centarious Mountain Valley—one of the last places in Old Celesto where the sun still dared to shine. At the heart of this construction stood a temple dedicated to their dark goddess.
The dwarves, master craftsmen blessed with divine talent, were commissioned to build not only Blood Keep, but three other mighty strongholds across the continent: Ice Castle in the north, Valestrom Stronghold in the west, and the Crimson Den in the east. These fortresses were raised for the mythical creatures who once ruled the land, and to this day, their sheer scale defies understanding. Scholars still call them "the Keeps of the Void Time"—monuments impossible to recreate, or even explain.
Each Keep had a hidden temple dedicated to the Goddess of the Night, connected by secret paths that allowed the creatures of shadow to worship without the threat of sunlight. When the New Gods rose and slaughtered the mythical races, they destroyed all but one of these temples. The sole survivor lies buried in the southern forest, untouched, shrouded in darkness. Its existence is a secret long lost to history—except to Michael.
He knows the truth because over 400 years ago, during the formation of the Asterion Imperium, his ancestor Lucien Centarious—the first Duke of Old Celesto—discovered the temple. It had been built in the depths of the forest, and a hidden underground passage led from the keep to the temple, allowing Aldric and his court to worship even under the noonday sun.
Only a Centarious could know of its location. So when Michael heard Tomas speak of the temple door and that foolish organization, he didn't blame him—there was no way Tomas could have known. But what mattered more was the opportunity it presented.
He swiftly abandoned the idea of prolonging the war. A new plan formed—clever, bold, and ruthless. He would use her and that wretched organization to do the work for him. He allowed her to escape, but not before ordering Tomas to implant a mental cue. Once she fled, the cue would compel her to write a letter revealing the location of the organization's base. She couldn't speak of it openly—that was part of her oath. But this… this was the Loophole.
And it was, Michael thought with a sly grin, the best solution he could've come up with on the spot.
Soon, he and Tomas reached the end of the spiral staircase. With a quick nod, Michael bid him farewell and made his way back toward his bedchamber on the second floor of the Keep. He knew he had to return before Paul awoke from his "seduction"—otherwise, it could turn into a real mess. That was why he rushed Tomas out of the hidden great hall, even though the place was deeply fascinating, brimming with ancient echoes and historical weight.
Still, he'd made Tomas a promise: they would return next month when the Blood Moon rose. Michael suspected that the door to the temple would only open on that night. And it couldn't be a coincidence—she had said the door would open tomorrow, and tomorrow was the Blood Moon.
A quiet shiver of anticipation crawled down his spine.
After winding through several corridors, Michael reached the throne room. From there, he crossed the grand hall and found the narrow staircase that spiraled upward toward the second floor. Soon, he was walking through the dim corridor that led to his chambers.
From where he stood, he could already see the faint glow of morning light pressing against the stained-glass windows.
Even after all these years, the Blood Keep's ability to block out the sun never failed to astonish him. Outside, dawn was breaking—but within these ancient stone walls, it remained cloaked in darkness. Silent. Eternal.
Then, he thought of Paul.
His expression soured, lips curling downward. His eyes, once calm, now held the sharp glint of dread.