Page 37 of Too Dangerous To Die

She pulls her hand back as if burned. "Whose tomb?"

I hesitate. "I don't know."

A lie. But some truths are better left buried.

We venture deeper, the passage narrowing before opening into a vast chamber. Stone pillars rise from the ground, supporting a ceiling adorned with faded murals. At the center lies a sarcophagus, its lid askew, revealing only darkness within.

Nora approaches it, her curiosity evident despite the circumstances. "Whoever was here left in a hurry."

"Or was taken," I counter.

She shivers, wrapping her arms around herself. "Comforting."

I move to one of the walls, pretending to inspect the carvings, but my attention is elsewhere. The air here feels heavy, pressing against my skin, seeping into my bones. Memories I had long suppressed claw their way to the surface.

"Rhaegar," Nora calls, her voice echoing softly. "There's something here."

Reluctantly, I turn to see her standing before a smaller alcove, partially hidden behind a collapsed pillar. She brushes away the dust, revealing an inscription carved into the stone.

"It's in an old dialect," she murmurs, brow furrowing as she tries to decipher it. "Something about... a guardian? A protector?"

My blood runs cold. I know this inscription. I know what lies beyond that wall.

"Step back," I command, harsher than intended.

She glances at me, startled. "What? Why?"

"Just do it," I snap.

She bristles but obeys, retreating a few steps. I approach the alcove, every instinct screaming at me to leave, to run, but I can't. Not now.

With a deep breath, I press my hand against the stone. The magic is faint, but it's there, responding to my touch. The wall trembles before sliding aside, revealing a narrow staircase descending into darkness.

Nora peers over my shoulder. "What's down there?"

"Nothing we need," I say, turning away.

But she catches my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "You're lying."

I meet her gaze, the bond between us pulsating with unspoken words. "Some secrets are better left undisturbed."

"Like the name Medea?" she challenges.

I flinch. "This isn't the time."

"Then when?" she demands. "After the Wraithborn take me? After I lose myself to these... memories?"

I pull away, pacing the chamber. "You don't understand."

"Then make me understand," she pleads. "Because right now, I'm fighting shadows in my own mind, and you're the only one who seems to know why."

The weight of her words presses down on me. She's right. She deserves to know. But the truth is a double-edged sword, and I fear it will cut us both.

"Fine," I say, running a hand through my hair. "But once you know, there's no going back."

She squares her shoulders. "I stopped looking back a long time ago."

I nod, resigned. "Very well."

---