Solomon stopped in front of the grey stone doors. Each one towered over him, their aged surfaces covered in intricate carvings.

He took a deep breath, the night air cool in his lungs.

He licked his lips and prodded the magic in his chest. The cold green power was still only a fraction of its normal level. The attack on Silver Spruce hadn't gone perfectly, but he had achieved his main goals. Six targets had been eliminated, and he'd guided the Hoard towards the spooks the best he could, but... The thick green chain lying in pieces haunted him.

He didn't know where the wendigo had gone, who it had hurt. He had brought a weapon, and it had gotten loose.

Solomon closed his eyes.

Without its backup, Benjamin wasn't able to stop the Adjudicator from interfering. That had limited their options.

And you don’t know who it killed in the meantime.

He shook his head. Not to mention his shades. His shades had been wiped out by a Telss. A Telss that would need to be dealt with if they could actually counter Solomon.

But despite the setbacks, it was still a successful step. But it was only one step. It was time for the next one.

He opened his eyes and focused on the door.

He swirled his magic, and his finger burst with an eerie green light. He pressed it to the door, and the carvings drank in the light like desert soil.

The illumination quickly spread, and in seconds the entire surface glowed a cold green.

The doors opened without a sound, and the scent of old stone and even older death poured over Solomon.

He took a deep breath and started forward.

The doors led to a long, straight cave. Imposing carvings of a man dressed in formal robes lined the walls. Each statue was carved from a dark stone and depicted the man in exquisite detail. So much so that Solomon wouldn’t be surprised if they got up and moved.

He glanced at the nearest statue. The man had a high brow pinched in thought, hard eyes, long, shadowed cheeks, and a narrow chin.

As Solomon walked, the carvings changed. The man stayed the same, but his dress shifted, going from different styles of robe and formal wear until he reached the end. The last statue was dressed in a dark suit. Solomon eyed the suit's buttons. Each had a tiny skull at the center.

Past the last statue sat a small, circular alcove. At its center lay a stone crypt, its surface covered in so many runes and sigils that a human would need a magnifying glass to see them all.

It was wrapped in pitch-black chains that sucked in the specks of light trickling in from the door.

Solomon pulled a black wooden case from his pocket. Knull wood was absurdly expensive. The cost of this box and the ones he used at the summit would bankrupt most wealthy spooks.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

But as far as he knew, nothing was better at hiding something’s magical footprint.

He opened the case and pulled out a chalk white key. It had several seams throughout its length. The key had originally been broken into shards, one of which his master had possessed.

The Pact knew that and had accounted for it.

However, they did not know that his master was aware of the location of this tomb, this prison. Or that the late Burrow King had gathered a second piece of the key.

He had been discrete gathering the other pieces. The Pact had some very well guarded, and he couldn’t get to them all. Not that he would want to.

Not yet.

As he drew the key from the box, the world convulsed.

Light shifted, the ground shook, and the very air started to warp and tear around the key.

Solomon touched it to the chains, and the black metal crumbled.

The runes and sigils over the crypt sparked and buzzed, but the key silenced them.

Solomon didn’t allow his hands to shake as he touched the lid.

The best of the bad options.

He shoved the lid off with a crash of stone on stone.

A massive man lay in the crypt, his manacled wrists crossed over his chest in death.

He was easily eight feet tall, and his body was all long limbs and sharp angles. His skin was an inhuman grey, but aside from that, he was a perfect match for the statues, right down to his pitch black suit.

His wrists, ankles, and neck were clamped with dark manacles, a few chain links trailing off them.

Each chain link held more magic than Solomon had ever felt in one place, and that was nothing compared to the manacles themselves.

They pulled on Solomon's senses like five black holes, drawing everything in and giving nothing back.

He took a deep breath. The Pact, and others, had titans on their side, and once they bothered to move, they would crush him.

It was time to get a titan of his own.

He pressed the key to the manacle on the man’s left wrist.

The manacle cracked along with the key, and Solomon pushed the last of his magic into the man.

His grey skin drank the magic up, and the chained man opened his eyes, and they burst with green light.

The world quaked.

Solomon had to force himself to keep breathing as every natural law began to twist and distort around the man in the crypt.

His body grew lighter; sounds started to warble, and even the musty smell of the crypt began to fluctuate, strengthening until it overpowered his nose one moment only to all but vanish the next.

A tremendous pressure pushed down on Solomon, forcing him to brace himself to avoid stumbling.

The crypt cracked, the stone splitting down the middle, and the quaking stopped.

The world returned to normal as the man took a long, slow breath and rubbed his wrist. He looked up at Solomon and smiled.

“Oh, that feels nice. These manacles chaff.” His voice was a deep, elegant drawl that wormed its way into Solomon’s ears like a song.

“Now, tell me, young vampire. How long has it been?”

Solomon smiled and straightened. The man hadn’t tried to kill him yet, excellent.

“Six hundred and thirty-two years.”

The man blinked. “Hmm. Not a short rest, but it could certainly be worse.” He smiled at Solomon, and the force of his gaze was a physical thing.

He jingled his remaining shackles and raised a thin brow. “You removed one seal, which has already earned you a boon. But I have to ask, do you happen to know where the other keys are?”

Solomon’s smile grew. “Let’s make a deal.”

The End.