Selis knelt in front of the door, cracking her fingers with a theatrical flair like she was about to perform a concert instead of break into what was probably one of the most heavily secured areas of the capital.

"Alright, Big Iron," she muttered, eyeing the lock, "it's just you, me, and my questionable life choices."

She didn't have a key. Obviously.

She didn't have magic. Tragically. And she didn't have explosives. Yet.

What she did have was a rusted hairpin, a tiny sliver of wire she pried from a nearby lantern bracket, and the sheer stubbornness of someone who had endured a literal sewer gauntlet.

Click.

Snap.

Clink.

Something inside gave a reluctant grind.

"Did that—?"

She pressed her shoulder against the door.

Nothing.

She groaned, slumping against it. "Of course. Of course you resist me, just like every emotionally unavailable man I've ever met in my real life."

"I mean I don't need real men because I'm the Queen of reverse harem in any game . . ."

Then, from behind the wall came a faint clicking noise . . . followed by a deep mechanical grind. With a low groan, the door shifted inward slightly, just enough for her to wedge her fingers through.

She gasped.

"Oh my gods. I did it. I'm a genius. I'm a sewer-dwelling, rat-haunted, fungal-toe genius."

There was no magic lock in the door, made sense since the maintenance team could easily clean the sewers. And most of the magical wards were for vampires and not humans after all.

The door creaked open, revealing a narrow stone passage lined with dusty sconces and carved archways.

It smelled slightly better than the sewer but still worse than anything a decent human should tolerate.

Selis stepped inside, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could.

She was in.

====

The inner sanctum beneath the cathedral wasn't exactly what she expected. There were no gold-tiled floors or holy chanting in the distance.

Just empty corridors, damp stone walls, and the unsettling sound of water dripping somewhere out of sight.

She crept down the hallway with cautious steps, pressing close to the walls and avoiding patches of light from above. Her boots squished. Her cloak reeked. She was a moving disgrace—but an infiltrating disgrace.

A low sound made her pause. Voices. Two of them, muffled and echoing off the walls.

She flattened herself behind a cracked pillar, peering into the next chamber. Two priests were discussing something near a sealed wooden door. One of them was holding a ledger, the other a scroll covered in crimson seals.

". . . no, she's still under quarantine," one of them said. "High Command's orders. They don't want anyone except certified blood handlers going near her."

Emerald? Selis held her breath.

"She's not even awake most of the time," the other priest muttered. "They've drained her again. For the enhancement serum. We're running out of candidates, and the side effects are getting harder to hide."

Selis's jaw tightened.

They were using her. Just like Salister said.

She shifted her weight slightly and her boot squelched on the stone floor.

The priests stopped talking.

"Did you hear that?"

Nope. Time to move.

Selis darted down a side corridor, narrowly avoiding detection as the two priests poked their heads around in confusion.

She ducked behind an old statue of Saint Garion the Flamehearted—who, ironically, now had a sewer-stained fugitive squatting behind his holy robes.

"Bless me with silence, Garion," she whispered.

He didn't answer. Rude.

Eventually, she found a stairwell leading upward. It was narrower, older—possibly forgotten. She followed it carefully, wincing at each creak and shifting shadow.

At the top was another door. No crest this time, just an iron bar and an old latch.

She pushed it open and stepped into . . . a linen closet.

Perfect.

She emerged from the closet like a resurrected moth, blinking against the light and brushing cobwebs from her hood.

A corridor stretched ahead, polished marble floors and candlelit sconces. She had made it.

The real cathedral. The real inner layer.

Just then, a passing cleric spotted her.

"You there!" the man barked. "You're not supposed to be in this wing! What division are you with?"

Selis blinked at him, then straightened her back and put on the most wounded expression she could muster.

"I—I got lost. I'm part of the border patrol unit. We were just moved to assist with the wall repairs. I was sent to deliver a report but . . . but I slipped and hit my head. I think I have a mild concussion. Also maybe internal bleeding."

The man's stern expression faltered. "You . . . what?"

She coughed dramatically. "I may also be experiencing divine visions. You look like a holy giraffe."

The cleric backed off immediately. "Alright, alright—go sit down somewhere. Just . . . don't die in the hall, please."

He rushed off to find a healer.

Selis casually walked the other direction.

"Acting," she whispered, grinning to herself.

She couldn't believe they actually believed that. But then again, no vampire could truly walk within these holy grounds—not with the wards etched into every wall, pulsing with centuries-old magic.

The halls of the cathedral were mostly empty—most of the guards had been pulled to the outer defenses, and the remaining clerics were too exhausted to ask questions.

She wandered freely for a bit, looking for restricted wings, supply manifests, anything that hinted at Emerald's location.

Eventually, she found something useful: a guarded chamber at the far end of the western wing. Two knights stood outside, expressionless.

Too risky to go in now. But at least she had a lead.

Selis slunk back into the linen closet to regroup, collapsed onto a heap of unused altar cloths, and stared up at the ceiling with a tired smirk.

She was filthy. Bruised. Emotionally compromised. But she was inside.

Finally inside.

Emerald was here. Somewhere behind those polished doors and stone walls.

She was ready to tear this cathedral apart if that's what it took.

Even if she had to go through more toddler-sized rats, collapsing bridges, or holy giraffes.

Because Emerald wasn't just a vampire's mate anymore.

She was the key to ending everything.

And Selis Everhart didn't come all this way just to smell like a latrine and go home empty-handed.