Chapter 4: The Path Below

The moon cast a silver glow through the royal chambers as King Basileus watched you, his queen, sleeping peacefully. He was still rattled by the day’s events: the horrific news from his army, the mysterious ultimatum, and the strange, unsettling warnings from Shaman Darya. He felt like a lion trapped in a cage, his protective instincts on high alert but with no clear enemy to fight. He just wanted to be here, with you, where the world felt simple and safe.

He crept to the window, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He scanned the castle grounds, his eyes sharp and unyielding, searching for any sign of a threat. A shadow moved near the ivy-covered wall. He tensed. It was a guard, just doing his rounds. Basileus let out a low, frustrated breath. He was seeing threats everywhere now, his mind a battlefield of worries.

Suddenly, a strange sound broke the silence. Not a human sound, but a whisper on the wind, a chilling chime of steel. He spun around, his heart pounding in his chest. In the window, a figure in white armor stood, their face hidden by a helmet. A knight from the White Knights, here, in his private chambers. The air seemed to grow colder.

He drew his sword in a single, fluid motion, but before he could move, you cried out in your sleep. "The Labyrinth!" you screamed, your voice not your own, but a powerful, ancient sound that seemed to shake the very walls. The knight recoiled, stumbling as if struck by an invisible force. The whisper of steel vanished, and the figure was gone as quickly as they appeared, leaving only the scent of ozone and the sound of your frantic breathing.

Basileus rushed to your side, his sword still in hand. He knelt, his hand gently on your cheek. You were awake now, your eyes wide with a fear he had never seen before. "My love," he whispered, his voice trembling. "What was that? What did you see?"

You took his hand, your grip surprisingly firm. "They were here," you whispered, your voice a fragile echo of your scream. "They are coming from below. From the Labyrinth." You closed your eyes as if trying to push a painful image away. "They want him. The one who will save us."

Later, in the cold, stone chamber of his war room, Basileus stood surrounded by his advisors. But today, he ignored their nervous chatter. His gaze was fixed on a single figure standing before his large tactical map: Shaman Darya.

She had arrived unbidden, her spiritual objects still scattered around her, a constant reminder of the world he wanted to ignore. She held a small, weathered leather pouch in her hand. "They are not like other armies," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "They are fanatic. They do not just seek to conquer; they seek to cleanse."

"Cleanse what?" Basileus snapped, his patience worn thin. "My kingdom? My people?"

Darya shook her head. "They seek to destroy the 'Catalyst.' The one prophesied to end the Shadow." She looked at him, her dark eyes seeing more than he was comfortable with. "Your child, my king. Your child will be a beacon of light in this world, and they seek to snuff that light out before it is born. The attack just now? It was a test. They know where you are. They know what is to come."

"This is madness," one of the advisors whispered. "A child? What of their army of fifty million soldiers?"

"The number does not matter if their goal is not a war, but an assassination," Darya said, her gaze never leaving the King. "I have felt it. The convergence is near. The White Knights are seeking to enter the palace through an ancient, forgotten path that runs beneath us all. The Labyrinth." She pointed to a spot on the floor. "A path only the oldest spirits know, for it was built to protect an ancient relic. A relic that will be key to protecting your child, my King, from the White Knights."

Basileus's mind raced. He was a man of reason, of strategy, of logic. But everything the Shaman had said was now in perfect alignment with what he had just seen with his own eyes. The attack. The sudden appearance and disappearance of the knight. The words from his own sleeping queen. He clenched his fists, the truth of her words dawning on him like a cold, terrifying sunrise. The world was not as simple as he had always believed.

He found you awake in your chambers, staring out the window at the now-peaceful night sky. He sat on the edge of the bed and took your hand in his, his heart aching with worry. "The Labyrinth," he said, the word tasting strange and foreign on his tongue. "You… you knew they were coming from there?"

You turned to him, a faint smile on your face. "I didn't know," you replied. "I saw. I saw you, my love, in the dark, damp halls, with the Shaman. I saw you looking for something. Something that glowed with a soft, warm light. You were holding a map, a map of the city as it used to be, with paths no one remembers anymore." Your vision was so clear it was as if you had been there yourself. Your voice was soft, but your words carried a strange, unwavering authority. "It's the only way to save our child. You must go to the Labyrinth. I'm afraid, my love. But you must be strong. This is our fate."

The last remnants of Basileus’s skepticism crumbled. He no longer saw a choice before him, but a destiny. The path ahead was dark and unknown, but it was his path to walk. He had always been a king of men, but now, he would have to become a king of fate. He kissed your forehead, his resolve solidifying. "I will return," he promised, his voice low and firm. "With what is needed."

The entrance to the Labyrinth was hidden beneath a dusty trapdoor in the castle’s ancient library. Basileus, now armed with a torch and his sword, followed Shaman Darya down a narrow, winding staircase. The air grew colder and heavier with every step. Basileus could feel the weight of centuries of forgotten history pressing in on him.

"The magic of this place does not like intruders," Darya warned as they descended. "It will play tricks on the mind."

Basileus’s grip on his sword tightened. "I trust my eyes and my blade," he said, his voice echoing in the darkness.

"They are not the only things you will need," she replied, her own eyes glowing faintly in the torchlight. They walked for what felt like hours, the stone tunnels twisting and turning like a serpent's body. Basileus saw things that weren't there: shadows that danced in the corners of his vision, whispers that seemed to call his name from the dark. He fought the urge to turn back and cling to the world he knew.

Finally, they arrived at a large, circular chamber. In the center, on a simple stone pedestal, was a crystal-like sphere. It was not a grand weapon or a magical sword, but a simple orb that pulsed with a warm, gentle light. It hummed softly, and as Basileus stepped closer, he could feel its power pulling at him, calling to him. This was the artifact. The key to everything.

As he reached for it, he heard a sound that was impossible, a sound that froze the blood in his veins: the distinct, metallic clang of a modern axe on a stone wall. It was not an echo, not a trick of the mind. It was close. Too close.

The White Knights had found the secret entrance.

A figure in white armor burst through a newly-created hole in the stone wall, followed by two others. Basileus didn't hesitate. He grabbed the orb from the pedestal, its warmth filling his hand. "They're here!" he shouted to Darya, his voice ringing with a mix of fury and fear.

The battle that followed was desperate and brutal. Basileus fought with all his might, his sword a flash of silver in the darkness. He was a king fighting not for land or power, but for the fate of his unborn child. Darya, meanwhile, moved with a grace that belied her age, whispering spells and throwing her spiritual objects at the knights, disorienting them just enough for Basileus to land a blow.

But there were too many of them. More knights were pouring into the chamber from the newly-formed entrance. "We cannot win this fight!" Darya cried. "We must retreat!"

Basileus slashed at a knight, forcing them back, and then turned. He and Darya ran, the light of the glowing orb in his hand a beacon in the darkness. He could hear the heavy steps of the White Knights pursuing them, their battle cries echoing through the labyrinth.

He was no longer just a king in a war; he was a warrior in a magical quest, and the battle had just begun. The White Knights were no longer the horizon; they were in his home, beneath his very feet, and fate of his kingdom rested in his hands.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***