Chapter 3 - Echoes in the Dark
The flash of muzzle smoke illuminated the newcomers’ helmets and unmarked ceramic armor. They moved with military precision, deploying flash canisters that filled the grand hall with blinding white sulfur.
""Ethan, down!"" a harsh voice barked through a respirator.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He dropped Julian like a sack of dead weight, pivoted on his heel, and scooped Lily into his arms before the primary blast wave shook the floorboards. The child buried her face into the curve of his neck, her tiny fingers digging into the collar of his burgundy suit with supernatural strength. She didn't scream; children raised in terror knew that screaming only brought punishment.
""Hold on to me,"" Ethan commanded in Lily's ear.
He kicked open the service door concealed behind the silk tapestries, slipping into the dark service labyrinth beneath the north wing. Behind them, gunfire erupted—controlled, suppressed bursts echoing through the hollow walls. Victoria was screaming somewhere in the main hall, her voice shrill with frantic bargaining.
The narrow servant corridors were unlit, smelling of ancient stone and damp copper. Ethan moved with fluid memory, navigating the maze he had run through as a boy. Every step rattled the silver signet ring hanging from Lily's neck against Ethan’s brass cufflinks.
""Uncle Ethan?"" Lily whispered into the darkness, her breath warm against his skin. ""Are bad men coming for Mommy's box?""
Ethan paused at the foot of an iron spiral staircase leading to the old observatory. He set Lily down on a wooden crate, keeping his body positioned between her and the corridor.
""What box, Lily?""
The little girl reached deep inside the torn inner lining of her pink dress. Her small hands withdrew a folded piece of parchment, worn at the creases and sealed with hardened, cracked blue wax.
""Mommy told me never to show Aunt Victoria,"" Lily murmured, shivering in the cold draft. ""She said if I gave it to the lady in the black dress, Mommy would stay asleep forever. But if I gave it to the man who wears burgundy... he would bring the sun back.""
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Ethan’s chest tightened with an ache he hadn't felt in fifteen years. The blue wax bore the imprint of his late brother’s personal seal—the crest of the North Vance Line, thought to have been destroyed in the manor fire.
Before he could break the seal, the heavy iron door above them groaned on its hinges. A pair of heavy combat boots began descending the spiral staircase, one deliberate step at a time.
