Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Two: Shenanigans and Secret Vaults

  Hours before first light, they slipped from the inn through a service entrance Dex had identified earlier, emerging into the cool pre-dawn air. Roandia’s streets were never truly empty—even at this hour, the occasional patrol passed through, lanterns bobbing in the darkness. But the city’s rhythm had slowed to its lowest ebb.

  Perfect for thieves and truth-seekers.

  They kept to the shadows, slipping swiftly through alleys and narrow passages. Dex led, each step soft and sure, the graceful precision of someone who’d spent years learning how not to be seen—an odd talent, given Dex’s lifelong habit of drawing exactly the wrong sort of attention. Jace trailed behind, quietly astonished—not for the first time—at how a man whose life seemed one prolonged spectacle could vanish so effortlessly when he chose.

  The palace rose from the heart of Roandia’s inner circle, gleaming like polished bone beneath the silver moonlight. Elegant spires twisted gracefully skyward, their tips gilded by moonbeams, while delicate marble archways and balconies draped with ivy hinted at opulence carefully balanced against timeless artistry. From afar, the structure seemed flawless and forbidding—walls towering impossibly high, gates guarded by shadows so vigilant even moonlight feared to cross them. Yet Dex had spoken true about his reconnaissance. Without hesitation, he led them toward the eastern wall, to a forgotten corner where the ancient bones of an aqueduct tunneled quietly beneath the palace grounds.

  “Service entrance for maintenance,” Dex whispered, pointing to a grate partially obscured by overgrown ivy. “Guards check it twice a night—once at midnight, once before dawn. We’re in the clear for another two hours.”

  Jace nodded, scanning the area for signs of movement. “How do we get through the grate?”

  Dex drew a slim metal rod from his inventory—clean, cold, precise. Part of Marcus’s kit. Jace distinctly recalled Dex not accepting it.

  “Old-school lock. Simple guts.” He smirked like he had already opened it. Twice.

  Jace cocked an eyebrow. “Didn’t you tell Marcus you didn’t need his kit?”

  Dex didn’t even look up. “I don’t. But it seemed a waste.”

  Jace folded his arms. “So you…?”

  “Stole it,” Dex said casually. “Didn’t feel right to take a gift from him. Whole thing hits different when it’s technically a crime.”

  He crouched beside the door, the rod already dancing between his fingers.

  “Anyway, it’s decent,” he muttered, begrudging. “Not as good as my personal sets, but those would be overkill for this.”

  Jace shook his head.

  “How long?”

  “Thirty seconds.”

  It took twelve.

  The grate swung open with a faint creak that made both men wince. They froze, listening for any response, but the night remained undisturbed. Dex slipped inside first, Jace following close behind, pulling the grate closed after them. The darkness pressed in, nearly absolute.

  “Do you have Dark Vision?” Dex whispered.

  Jace nodded, barely managing to make out Dex’s faint answering tilt of the head—a slight shift among deeper shadows. His Dark Vision fought against the gloom, wrestling vague shapes out of the blackness around them. At first it was only smudges of grey within grey, but slowly those shapes sharpened, deepened. He started to sense hints of color, muddy and uncertain in the dimness. He wasn’t sure exactly what colors they were, hidden beneath layers of grime and shadow, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  Dex moved ahead confidently, strolling casually as though through moonlit streets rather than pitch-dark tunnels. Jace walked cautiously behind, feeling half-blind. His Dark Vision was good—but clearly not good enough.

  He nearly jumped out of his skin when a notification blinked into his vision.

  Dark Vision has Improved to Level Two – Apprentice Perceptor.

  A tingling sensation rippled behind his eyes, a brief surge of clarity. Colors bloomed into focus around him, rich and vibrant even in the shadows—rusted reds in the bricks, deep greens of mold streaking the stone, silvery reflections glinting from patches of dampness on the walls.

  It had been ages since he’d received a skill-level notification. Stranger still, he’d already leveled Dark Vision higher before. But when he’d ascended to Silver, it was as if all his progress had been reset—not weakened exactly, but somehow restarted, preserving his earlier abilities while unlocking new heights.

  Like starting fresh in a game he’d already beaten, his skills retained their strength but now possessed room to grow beyond previous limits, albeit slowly.

  He blinked, surprised by how suddenly vivid everything had become, then grimaced at the muck beneath his feet. Dex glanced back, eyes narrowed slightly, noticing the shift in Jace’s expression. His mouth curved into a knowing, faintly amused smile.

  Jace had a sudden suspicion Dex could already see this clearly—or perhaps even better.

  Without another word, Dex turned and moved forward, and Jace followed him easily now, shadows spilling open effortlessly before him.

  The tunnel was narrow and damp, the ceiling low enough that Jace had to stoop. Water trickled along the bottom, soaking their boots as they moved deeper beneath the palace grounds.

  They moved in silence, counting their steps as Dex had instructed. Fifty paces in, they reached a junction where the main aqueduct continued straight while a smaller service tunnel branched off to the right.

  “This way,” Dex murmured, turning into the narrower passage.

  The air grew fouler as they progressed, thickening into a pungent stew of mildew, stagnant water, and something else—something Jace was reluctant to identify but strongly suspected had once been alive… perhaps long, long ago. Dex pressed forward without complaint, but Jace wrinkled his nose, breathing shallowly. After another hundred paces, the tunnel dead-ended at a stone wall.

  Dex ran his fingers along the seam where wall met ceiling. As Jace examined the wall more closely, he noticed a small hinge tucked into the stonework, cleverly disguised where the slab could pivot upward. “Maintenance access. Should open to a storage room beneath the east wing.”

  “Should?” Jace questioned.

  Dex shrugged. “Maps are old. Things change.” He located what he was looking for—a recessed handle hidden as part of the stone pattern. “Moment of truth.”

  Jace’s Etheric Cloak wrapped around him, rendering him nearly ghostlike, a subtle blur. Dex’s own activated ability concealed him even further, making him invisible even to Jace—until Dex granted Jace permission to see him. And even then, Dex appeared only as a faint outline, a sketch half-finished, drawn in charcoal on shadow.

  He pulled, and the wall slid outward with surprising ease, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond. They exchanged glances—the lack of resistance was unexpected. Either they were exceptionally lucky, or something was wrong.

  In Jace’s experience, luck rarely favored those who trespassed in places of power.

  Pushing the thought aside, he followed Dex into what appeared to be an abandoned storeroom. Dust lay thick on empty shelves and forgotten crates. A single lamp burned low in a sconce by the door, providing just enough light to navigate by.

  “Staff entrance should be up those steps,” Dex whispered, indicating a narrow staircase in the corner. “From there, we need to reach the third floor without being seen. The Regent’s private wing is on the east side, facing the Tower.”

  Jace nodded. “Lead the way.”

  They paused at the top of the stairs, listening for movement beyond the door. Hearing nothing, Dex eased it open a crack, peering into the hallway beyond. He withdrew quickly, eyes wide.

  “No guards,” he whispered.

  Jace frowned. “That’s... not right.”

  “No,” Dex agreed. “There should be at least two patrols passing through here every hour.”

  They exchanged a concerned glance. The absence of expected security could mean many things, none of them good. Had their presence somehow been anticipated? Was this a trap? Or was something else happening tonight, something that had drawn the guards elsewhere?

  Dex took a steadying breath. “Only one way to find out.”

  They emerged into a servants’ corridor, its walls unadorned, its floors covered in simple carpet runners to muffle footsteps. At this hour, it should have been empty, and fortunately, it was. They moved swiftly, Dex leading them through a labyrinth of narrow passages designed to keep palace staff invisible to noble visitors.

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  They encountered no one.

  The wrongness of it prickled at Jace’s skin. A palace this size should never be completely deserted, even in the deepest hours of night. Servants preparing for morning, guards making their rounds, attendants ready to answer their masters’ calls—the absence of all activity felt deliberate.

  They reached a servants’ staircase and ascended quickly, still meeting no resistance. The second floor passed in a blur of empty corridors and darkened rooms. By the time they reached the third floor, the unease had solidified into certainty—something was very wrong in the Regent’s palace tonight.

  Dex held up a hand as they approached a junction where the servants’ corridor met a grander hallway. This would be their first venture into spaces meant for the palace’s higher occupants. The risk of discovery would increase substantially.

  “This is where we’d normally start seeing serious patrols,” Dex whispered. “Four guards minimum, usually more.”

  Jace nodded, reaching for the vial of shadow essence Alice had provided. “Time to disappear.”

  They each drank the bitter liquid, shuddering as the magic took effect. Jace felt the cold rush through his veins as his magical signature dimmed, becoming nearly undetectable to all but the most sensitive wards.

  Thus protected, they ventured into the main corridor. The contrast with the servants’ passages was immediate and stark—plush carpets underfoot, ornate tapestries adorning walls, gilded sconces holding crystal lamps that shed soft light even at this hour. The opulence was almost obscene, knowing what they now did about Roandia’s true state.

  Still no guards.

  They moved quickly, following Dex’s memorized path toward the eastern wing. The deeper they went, the more elaborate their surroundings became. Marble floors replaced carpet. Gold leaf adorned ceiling frescos. Artifacts of obvious magical significance sat displayed on pedestals with minimal protection.

  “The Regent’s private study should be through that doorway,” Dex whispered, pointing to an imposing set of double doors at the end of the hall. “After that, there’s supposed to be another chamber, and then access to the hidden vault.”

  Jace nodded, eyes scanning for traps or wards. “Why isn’t this place better guarded?”

  “It is,” Dex replied grimly. “Just not with people. But still… something is very off.”

  He pointed to a nearly invisible line of silver embedded in the marble floor—a boundary ward. Beyond it, the magical defenses would be significantly stronger. Crossing it without permission would typically trigger alarms, summon guards, or worse.

  “Can we bypass it?” Jace asked.

  Dex produced another of his tools, this one a thin silver needle. “Maybe. These wards are usually keyed to specific magical signatures. If I can mimic one...” He knelt, studying the ward carefully. “This is odd.”

  “What?”

  “It’s... damaged.” Dex ran the needle along the silver line, frowning as it caught on irregularities. “Like someone deliberately weakened it. Recently.”

  The implication hung between them. Either someone else had broken in before them, or someone inside had wanted to ensure they could get out quickly if needed.

  Either possibility was deeply concerning.

  Dex worked quickly, using the needle to bridge certain points in the ward’s structure. After several tense minutes, he sat back on his heels. “That should do it. The ward thinks we’re authorized.” He looked up at Jace. “Ready?”

  Jace nodded.

  They crossed the boundary together, braced for alarms that never came. Dex’s tampering had worked, or perhaps the ward had already been too damaged to function properly. Either way, they now stood before the Regent’s private study, one step closer to the answers they sought.

  Dex examined the door with professional scrutiny. “No obvious traps. Lock is high quality. Saved the best for himself, of course.” He selected another tool from his collection, this one a slender pick with an unusually shaped head. “Give me a minute.”

  While Dex worked, Jace kept watch, his senses stretched to their limits. The emptiness of the palace still troubled him. What could have drawn away all the guards on this particular night? The coincidence was too perfect to be chance.

  A soft click announced Dex’s success. He pocketed his tools and gave Jace a nod. Together, they eased the door open and slipped inside.

  The Regent’s study was bathed in quiet intimidation. Bookshelves climbed from floor to ceiling along three walls, stacked with ancient tomes whose spines had long since faded to shadows, titles lost to time. Jace’s gaze lingered on them, curiosity prickling his neck. Alice would find such a puzzle irresistible. A small pang echoed through him—a regret that he hadn’t allowed the others to join, that she wasn’t standing beside him now.

  A massive blackwood desk commanded the center, its obsidian surface reflecting moonlight that spilled through floor-to-ceiling silver-tinted windows. Beyond the one-way-glass, Roandia sprawled beneath them, the Tower piercing the night sky like a sentinel’s blade.

  Jace approached the desk while Dex secured the door with practiced silence. Each step across the plush carpet tightened the knot in Jace’s stomach. The desk’s emptiness struck him as deliberate—an unsettling absence where evidence should have been. Dex’s nimble fingers worked through each drawer, methodically searching before he straightened, lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Nothing,” Dex murmured, frustration clear.

  Jace pivoted slowly, gaze sweeping the chamber while avoiding the revealing moonlight. A cold disquiet settled in his core. “What now?”

  Dex hesitated, eyes narrowing as he studied the bookshelves. His fingers traced their edges, seeking invisible seams, hidden mechanisms. With each passing moment, his shoulders grew more rigid, movements increasingly precise.

  “There has to be an entrance,” Dex said, though he was obviously losing confidence. “I’ve traced his path again and again—watched him step into this room and disappear without a trace. Whatever he’s hiding—the gold, the plans—it’s all right here. Rumor around the maids’ quarters is he doesn’t trust a soul near the official treasury. He keeps all the income, including the Tower Rewards, hidden away from even his top officials.”

  Jace raised an eyebrow, curiosity mingling with suspicion. “And how exactly do you know the rumors from the maids’ quarters, Dex?”

  Dex answered with a crooked smile and a single, cheeky wink.

  Another unsettling thought nudged its way forward, urging Jace to speak again.

  “Dex,” Jace began slowly, weighing each word, “tell me you didn’t join this mission just to loot Roandia’s treasury.”

  Dex’s hands splayed in theatrical innocence. “Jace! You wound me with such accusations. Really, is that how far our friendship has fallen, you’d think so lowly of me?” His eyes glinted mischievously. “I merely wish to uncover what our esteemed Koren is plotting. Though, if certain unclaimed coins happened to find themselves—“

  “Dex.“ The warning in Jace’s voice could have cut stone.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Dex sighed, deflating slightly. “No theft. Promise. Okay?” He shook his head in mock lament. “But it’s all academic if we can’t solve this puzzle.” He began pacing, gaze roving across the walls and ceiling. “If I were a calculating, paranoid viper concealing a passage, where would I hide it? Button, button, who’s got the button?”

  Time stretched thin as Dex examined corners and tapped panels, his muttering growing sharper with each failed attempt. Jace felt anxiety winding tighter within him, coiling like a spring.

  “Maybe we’ve got the wrong location?” Jace ventured. “We are running out of time, Dex.”

  “It’s the right place, I know it,” Dex insisted, unfurling an intricate map. The parchment shifted beneath his touch, lines reorganizing themselves like living things. Jace leaned closer and saw a solitary dot pulsing steadily, “Koren, Regent of Roandia.” He was pacing restlessly in his private chambers. “Still awake,” Dex noted with surprise. “But at least he’s nowhere near us.”

  Finally, Dex exhaled heavily. “I’d hoped to save this for later, but circumstances demand...”

  “Save what?” Jace asked, wariness creeping in.

  Dex gestured for distance. “It’ll create little illumination—a risk we’ll have to accept.” He raised his hands, fingers weaving complex patterns. Azure light kindled at his fingertips, spreading outward, forming intricate runes that hung suspended in the air. His face tightened with concentration before the light surged forward, washing across the room in gentle, rippling waves.

  The chamber transformed before Jace’s eyes. Time unwound in luminous blue echoes: their own ghostly figures retreated backward through the door; then Koren himself appeared, the Regent’s sharp gaze seeming to pierce directly through them as he paused at the threshold.

  The vision surged forward, in reverse: Koren appeared, blurred in ghostly blue, rushing backwards into the room with a leather-bound ledger clutched tightly against his chest. He threw himself into the chair, feverishly flipping the ledger open and unscrawling words that bled upward across the page, revealing what had come before:

  Final preparations complete. Transport secured. Vessel secured. The End approaches.

  “Dex,” Jace whispered, pulse roaring like thunder in his ears, “you need to see this.”

  Dex leaned in closer, the spectral glow bleaching all color from his face, eyes widening. “This is bad.”

  “Putting it mildly,” Jace agreed quietly.

  Jace stared at the writing, wondering idly why villains felt compelled to keep records of their deeds. Why leave such obvious evidence behind? He remembered reading somewhere that criminals often sabotaged themselves, as though something deep inside them wanted to be caught. Perhaps it was guilt tugging beneath their consciousness, or an odd pride desperate to be acknowledged. Either way, it didn’t matter. Evidence was evidence, and right now, it was screaming at them from the page.

  “He’s orchestrating something,” Dex said, tension threading his words. “Something big, and soon.”

  They watched in silence as Koren rose suddenly from his desk, approaching the farthest bookshelf. He executed a precise gesture while murmuring into the shadows:

  “Sirbenet oivres sirbmu ni.”

  It wasn’t any language Jace recognized—until suddenly it clicked. The words were playing backward; no wonder they sounded so alien.

  The bookshelf shuddered as black ink seeped from the spines, pooling and swirling to form a portal of liquid darkness and Koren step backward into it. The whole thing played out in reverse and then reached the end before looping and playing out forward at double speed. Koren emerged from the inky portal, then sealed the portal with a gesture and the phrase.

  “In umbris servio tenebris.”

  “In shadows, I serve the darkness,” Dex translated quietly.

  Jace raised an eyebrow at him.

  “What? Don’t look so surprised,” Dex said, shrugging defensively. “I study—occasionally.”

  Koren briefly scribbled in his book, then departed hastily, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder as he withdrew from the room. The azure lights faded gradually, returning them to darkness.

  “That,” Dex said with a tight smile, “is precisely what we needed.”

  He moved purposefully to the bookshelf, fingers poised to mirror the Regent’s gesture. Drawing a steadying breath, he repeated the phrase with careful precision:

  “In umbris servio tenebris.”

  The air thickened abruptly, growing heavy and charged; books trembled on their shelves as ink poured from their spines, spiraling into a gateway of liquid shadow.

  Jace gave Dex a sweeping bow. “After you.”

  “Age before beauty,” Dex said, lips twitching.

  “Pearls before swine. And technically, you’re older.”

  Dex returned the bow with exaggerated flair. “Fortune favors the bold, my boldest bud.”

  Jace sighed. “And yet, fools rush in.”

  Dex folded his arms. “And yet... I insist.”

  They froze, staring each other down like two gentlemen at a door neither wanted to open.

  Without a word, they broke into an urgent round of rock-paper-scissors. Paper. Scissors. Dex groaned.

  “Best two out of—“

  Jace shoved him squarely in the chest, tipping him into the vortex mid-protest.

  Jace following closely behind.

  The tunnel sloped down in a slow curve under the palace. The air was cleaner than it had any right to be—no dust, no webs. Someone had been coming through here. Often.

  Their eyes met in the dark—just a flicker, just long enough to say we did it.

  They’d found it. The Regent’s vault. Hidden and buried.

  Beneath them, the stone shivered like something exhaling its last breath. The portal behind them gave one final shimmer, then folded in on itself without a sound. Gone.

  Darkness rushed in. Heavy. Complete. And their Dark Vision activated.

  Dex raised his hand, muttered the trigger phrase again. Nothing.He said it louder, repeating the gesture. Still nothing.

  He didn’t say a word.

  Didn’t have to.

  There was no way back.

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