The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

"This isn't good," Vyrelda said, echoing what Cerys was already thinking. The tension in the air felt suffocating, like they'd intruded on a secret workshop. She moved closer to the device, her footsteps cautious, her daggers still drawn. "Looks like someone tried to harness the magic of these ruins for their own ends."

Cerys nodded, stepping around a broken wooden table. Documents and diagrams lay strewn across it, mostly rotted away, but a few pages remained legible enough to read. She leaned in, squinting at an old dialect she recognized from occasional scraps in the royal archives. Some words stood out, scrawled in shaky handwriting: Sovereign Catalyst. Mist Guardian. Suppression Unit.

"They've been studying this for a long time," Cerys murmured, her throat dry as she read. She pressed a fingertip to one line that referenced a "key" or "conduit," though she couldn't piece the exact meaning together. "They knew about Mikhailis." Her heart hammered faster. If the Technomancers had been investigating Mikhailis's latent power or the role of a Sovereign Catalyst, it meant they had more knowledge than they should.

Vyrelda frowned and reached for a metallic shard that had fallen to the floor. It looked like a piece of the strange device, with runes carved in a sloppy, uneven hand. "And they were building something to stop him," Vyrelda said, her voice tight. The shard reflected ghostly patterns on the walls as she tilted it, as though the runes still carried a faint charge. "Or maybe to stop whatever power he carries."

Cerys found herself bristling with anger. She imagined Mikhailis, with his playful grin and exasperating jokes, forced into some Technomancer experiment. The idea twisted her stomach. He wasn't just a role or a prophecy—he was a person, one who'd somehow earned her loyalty and her desire to protect him. She let out a breath, trying to calm the tension in her muscles.

Before she could examine the scattered diagrams any further, a noise from the corridor behind them made both women freeze. The light from the runes flickered ominously, and Cerys's grip tightened on her sword. The presence she'd felt lurking outside was back.

Technomancers.

They had regrouped, and their footsteps echoed in the passage, accompanied by the faint hum of runic armor. Glowing insignias shone in the darkness, revealing the outlines of at least half a dozen enforcers. Some carried long, spear-like weapons crackling with energy, while others held short-bladed swords that vibrated with a dull hum. Cerys's eyes flicked over them, quickly counting how many she and Vyrelda might have to fight.

"We're outnumbered," Cerys muttered under her breath. She could almost taste the tension in the stale air.

Vyrelda twirled a dagger between her fingers, a lethal dance. "Then we even the odds."

The first attacker lunged without warning, his armor's runes glowing bright as he aimed a strike at Cerys's midsection. She spun on her heel, parrying with her sword, metal scraping metal in a discordant shriek that sent sparks flying. He was stronger than she expected, nearly knocking her off balance, but she dug her feet into the stone floor and shoved him back. Each movement made the chamber echo with an unsettling clamor—arcane charges popped, shelves rattled, and dust rained from the ceiling.

Vyrelda slipped behind two more enforcers, her daggers flashing. She moved like a specter, every step graceful and precise, each thrust finding the weak spots in their runic plating. One man staggered as a dagger sank into the joint of his armor, and the second reeled back, bleeding from a swift slash across the arm. But more Technomancers surged forward to replace them, weapons leveled.

The battle was brutal and immediate. Cerys ducked a wild swing from an enforcer whose spear crackled with electrical energy, feeling the hairs on her arm stand up from the static. She countered with a swift slash across his chest, forcing him to stumble backward. Another tried to flank her, his sword aimed at her back, but Vyrelda intercepted, a flurry of dagger strikes driving him away. For a heartbeat, Cerys felt a surge of relief that they were able to hold their own, but it vanished as the corridor trembled under the strain of so many impacts.

Dust and small stones spilled from overhead, each vibration loosening the fragile structure. Cracks snaked along the walls, creeping toward the chamber's ceiling. Cerys heard a sharp crack that made her heart lurch—then, in the gloom near the corridor, she saw a section of the arch shift.
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"Look out!" she yelled, but her warning was swallowed by the chaos of combat. A moment later, the ceiling began to give way. Chunks of stone tumbled down, landing with heavy thuds. The largest mass of debris crashed right where the Technomancers stood, raising a cloud of choking dust that filled the corridor.

Cerys barely had time to react, yanking Vyrelda aside. The collapse forced them both to retreat into the chamber, stumbling over broken shelves and the half-assembled device. Their lungs burned from the sudden onslaught of dust, and their vision blurred with swirling debris. Somewhere in the chaos, a Technomancer screamed, then went silent.

When the rumbling finally subsided, a massive section of the corridor was blocked by a craggy wall of fallen rock. Cerys coughed, stepping back to survey the damage through the haze. The flicker of runic light from the Technomancers' armor had vanished on the other side. For now, at least, that threat was sealed away, but the barrier wouldn't necessarily hold forever. She suspected they'd find a way around or start clearing the rubble.

"That won't hold them for long," she said, forcing the words out between coughs. She scanned the chamber's upper supports, worried that more might collapse if they lingered. Her arms and legs felt heavy with exhaustion, her adrenaline spiking as she realized how narrowly they'd escaped being buried alive.

Vyrelda dusted off her coat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She blinked at Cerys, trying to reorient herself in the half-lit chaos. "Then let's not be here when they get through." Her gaze wandered to the darkened exit at the far side of the chamber, presumably leading deeper into the catacombs. It was risky, but heading back up wasn't an option anymore.

Cerys felt the same urgency. With the corridor behind them collapsed, forward was the only way. She took one last, swift look at the scattered diagrams and the half-assembled device. She considered trying to sabotage it, but time was short, and it was likely the Technomancers had backup designs somewhere else. The important thing was finding Mikhailis—and preventing the enemy from using whatever knowledge they'd gathered.

Without another word, they turned away from the mound of rubble, adrenaline propelling them. The device's faint crackle followed them as they slipped into the next passage, the gloom of the catacombs swallowing them. A sense of unease, heavier than before, gripped Cerys's gut, but she pushed it down, focusing on each step. In the flickering glow, she could see Vyrelda's determined expression. They would keep going, no matter how deep this place went. Mikhailis needed them, and the threat of the Technomancers—and whatever ancient powers they sought—was too great to ignore.

They turned, disappearing into the dark.