Free Web NovelChapter 528: Chapter 528
The moon hung high over the royal burial grounds, bathing the open field in pale silver light. Ragnar stood before his father’s grave, head bowed in silence. The night air was cold and still. Circe stood a few steps behind him, giving him the privacy the moment demanded.
When a new king is crowned, it is customary for him to pay tribute to the king who came before him on the day of his coronation. It was a tradition upheld as a sign of respect for the rulers who had preceded him.
As Ragnar murmured the final words of tribute expected of a new king, Circe felt a cold, creeping sensation that had nothing to do with the night breeze. Her magic stirred on its own, reaching out like invisible fingers. Something dark and ancient pulsed in the distance, heavy and wrong.
She frowned, her gaze shifting past Ragnar toward the far end of the field.
"Ragnar," she said quietly, "what’s over there?"
He turned to follow her gaze, his eyes landing on a tall, weathered monument that stood separate from the other graves. The stone was far older than his father’s, worn smooth by millennia of wind and rain.
"That is the resting place of King Marzen," he replied. "His monument has stood there for over a thousand years."
Circe’s fingers curled slightly at her sides as the dark energy pressed against her senses again. It felt like something was watching. The power radiating from that grave was nothing like the peaceful silence that surrounded the other tombs.
She took one slow step forward, her magic still reaching cautiously toward the ancient grave. The energy responded immediately, twisting and coiling like it recognized her touch.
Circe pulled her magic back at once, a chill running down her spine. freewebnσvel.cøm
"Something is not right with that grave," she said, voice low. "There’s a presence there and it’s awake." ƒгeewёbnovel.com
A wary look took over Ragnar’s face. He moved to her side, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of the sword at his belt out of habit. "Awake? What do you mean?"
Circe kept her eyes on the monument. The structure rose like a broken finger against the night sky, its surface etched with runes that had faded long ago. "My magic doesn’t lie. The other graves here are quiet. But that one... it’s stirring. Like something trapped beneath the stone is reaching out. It feels hungry. Old. Not at all natural."
She extended her power again, this time more deliberately, threading it through the grass and soil toward the grave. The response was immediate and stronger. A wave of cold swept over her, carrying fragments of emotion that were not her own. Images flickered behind her eyes—battles long forgotten, a crown stained with blood, chains of some unseen binding.
She drew in a sharp breath and severed the connection.
Ragnar watched her closely. "Could it be that a soul is clinging onto it?" He didn’t say the other part aloud. The part he truly suspected.
Could it be Marzen himself?
But Circe knew exactly what he meant even though he didn’t say the words.
"I don’t know," she admitted. "It could just be his remains, or something placed with him. But whatever it is, it knows we’re here." She glanced at him. "Has anyone ever spoken about this grave being different?"
Ragnar shook his head. "Only that it is sacred as it belonged to the first king. Some say Marzen possessed a type of magic that many had not seen at the time. Dark magic of unknown origins. It was probably what he used to rip through the veil." Ragnar admitted. "Though I can’t say I have ever questioned the tales or even had a reason to. And to be honest, not much was known about Marzen’s abilities."
Circe rubbed her arms against the lingering chill. The energy still pulsed faintly at the edge of her awareness, like a heartbeat beneath the earth. "Then perhaps they should."
It struck her as deeply strange that a kingdom which had suffered countless attacks from fae beasts because of the actions of one of its rulers knew so little about the truth behind it all.
Ragnar studied the monument for a long moment, regarding the structure with fresh eyes. He reached out and took her hand. He didn’t even register the action until he already had her hand in his. It was so instinctual. He didn’t entirely understand the situation, but the thought of it somehow being a threat to Circe made him eager to protect her, however he could.
"We should head back to the palace." Ragnar said and Circe didn’t argue. She allowed him to lead her back to their waiting carriage and before long, they were on their way back to the palace.
Sleep did not come easily that night.
Circe lay still beside Ragnar in the dark, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing while her own thoughts refused to quiet. The presence she had felt at Marzen’s grave kept pressing at the edges of her mind, faint but persistent. She had severed the connection when she left the burial grounds. She had walked away without looking back.
And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
She stared at the ceiling.
By the time pale light began to gather at the edges of the curtains, she had already made her decision.
She did not tell Ragnar about what she had planned for the day.
He would have insisted on coming, or worse, insisted she not go at all. Neither option suited her. This was not a matter of swords or strategy. It was a matter of the dead, and the dead had always been hers to tend.
Instead she sent a servant to Thalora’s chambers first thing that morning, with a brief message asking her mother to dress for travel.
Thalora was already waiting in the courtyard by the time Circe appeared. She wore a soft blue dress with her blonde hair styled neatly, and she asked no questions when Circe approached. She only looked at her daughter’s face, saw the expression there and nodded once.
They took one of the carriages, a driver and two guards, and said little to one another on the road. The morning was cold and overcast, the sky a flat, colourless grey.
When they arrived at the burial grounds, Circe stepped out of the carriage and let her magic unfurl at once, reaching ahead of her through the grass. The strange presence reacted to her magic, further confirming that she hadn’t imagined the whole thing. The guards were asked to stayed back while only Circe and her mother proceeded ahead.
