The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

He bent down to get a closer look, noticing how the runes on the key glinted with an otherworldly shimmer. Even though everything else was covered in dust, this metal surface felt oddly clean, as if time had barely touched it. He could almost imagine the artifact pulsing, alive with ancient magic waiting for the right touch. Or maybe it's my imagination running wild, he thought wryly.

An odd hush fell over the group as they gathered around the pedestal. The runes on the walls seemed to flicker in a soft, matching rhythm, like a slow heartbeat. It was strangely hypnotic. For a moment, none of them spoke, each one too absorbed by the key's presence to break the silence. Mikhailis caught the faint sound of Rhea's breathing, quick and shallow, and Lira's barely audible exhale of fascination.

He reached out a hand, fingertips hovering near the key's surface. A low hum buzzed at the edge of his consciousness, a small vibration that made the fine hairs on his arm stand on end. Is it reacting to me? The thought made his pulse spike, a mix of excitement and dread.

He glanced over at Rhea, who was still tense and ready for danger. Her eyes flicked between him and the artifact, like she was debating whether to snatch him back if something started exploding. Lira's calm expression betrayed a spark of curiosity, but also caution—she was never one to rush into danger without weighing the risks.

Mikhailis smiled inwardly at the contrast: Rhea's fierce wariness, Lira's refined caution, both layered over a protective streak for him that they might not admit out loud. He felt a warmth in his chest at the thought that they trusted him enough to stand by him in this.

Slowly, carefully, he pressed his palm against the metal. The faint glow brightened, as if responding to his touch. An electric sensation rippled up his arm, mild but unmistakable. He took a sharp breath, heart pounding, expecting something dramatic—like the floor opening beneath them again or a swarm of spectral guardians appearing out of thin air.

But nothing happened. The artifact stayed where it was, the glow stabilizing into a steady shimmer that made the runes easier to read. He released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Alright," Rhea said, her voice hushed, "that's not a death trap… yet."

Mikhailis let out a tiny laugh, the tension easing just a bit. "Glad to see you're not disappointed."

She rolled her eyes, though a small smile flickered across her lips. "I'd rather not be impaled by ancient spikes today, thank you very much."

Lira's gaze flicked between the pedestal and the mural. "Do you think it belongs somewhere else? Or maybe it fits into that carving?" She looked at Mikhailis, silently prompting him for ideas.

He wished he had more answers. I'm the so-called Sovereign Catalyst, but I can't even figure out a random key in a big hole in the ground. Still, the joking voice in his head kept him from panicking. "We can give it a try," he said, stepping back slightly from the pedestal. "But let's not rush. I've seen enough movies—" he caught himself, remembering that references to certain modern entertainment might confuse them, "—I mean, I've heard enough legends to know we should be careful."

Rhea nudged a small fragment of stone with her foot, her expression pensive. "If this is connected to that mural, we'll find out soon enough. Who knows what else these walls are hiding."

The subtle glow from the runes bathed them in a pale, wavering light. Shadows danced across their faces, making the chamber feel alive, as though it was breathing with them. Mikhailis ran his thumb over the carved symbols on the key's handle, tracing their pattern. He couldn't shake the feeling that something important was about to happen.

He turned his gaze to Lira and Rhea. Despite the dust coating their clothes and the tension in their eyes, they stood firm. He was grateful—maybe more than he could admit right now—that they hadn't lost their nerve. "Whatever happens," he said softly, "we face it together."@@novelbin@@

Lira inclined her head in a gracious, almost courtly gesture. "Always, Your Highness."

Rhea gave a small snort. "Yeah, yeah. Let's not get all dramatic. We should focus on figuring out this puzzle."

A hint of amusement tugged at Mikhailis's lips. He gently lifted the key from the pedestal, testing the weight in his hand. It felt oddly warm, pulsing with that faint energy. For a brief second, he was sure he heard a whisper at the edge of his hearing—a voice telling him to take the next step. But it was gone so quickly he wondered if he imagined it.

He sighed, letting his shoulders relax. "Guess it's time to see if this thing unlocks some ancient knowledge or… well, hopefully not another pit." He raised an eyebrow at Rhea, who still looked as if she was ready to jump at the slightest sign of trouble. "Everything's going to be fine. Probably."

She offered him a skeptical glance. "I'll hold you to that."

Lira flicked a glance toward the mural. "We should examine that carving more closely. There might be a slot or mechanism hidden in the design."

Before any of them could move, Mikhailis gave a sudden grin. He'd felt tension crawling under his skin ever since they fell through the ceiling, but their banter had helped ease it. If he didn't laugh once in a while, he might end up screaming in panic. This was how he coped: a bit of humor, a bit of confidence, and an unwavering belief that everything would turn out okay.

Your journey continues at My Virtual Library Empire

He turned to Rhea, who was still eyeing the key with suspicion. "Now you're thinking like an adventurer."

Before he could examine it further, his vision blurred. At first, it felt like a wave of dizziness, the kind that hits if you stand up too fast. But this was deeper, more disorienting. The chamber around him seemed to twist, the air thickening until each breath felt like he was inhaling liquid fog. A sudden, sharp pain lanced through his skull, forcing his eyes shut. He tried to steady himself against the pedestal or the wall—anything to keep his balance—but it was as if his own body refused to listen.

Then everything changed.

He was no longer in the catacombs. The damp air, the flickering runes, the half-buried key—gone. Instead, he found himself in a vast hall filled with tall, imposing pillars that stretched so high he couldn't see their tops. An eerie wind brushed against him, carrying the low echo of chanting. Dozens, maybe hundreds of hooded figures stood in circles, voices merging into a melodic yet unsettling harmony. Each voice was distinct, yet they blended so perfectly that it sounded like a single entity speaking from many mouths.

The floor beneath him was made of polished stone, etched with swirling patterns that looked like they flowed in and out of each other. At the center of the hall stood the same robed figure he'd seen in the mural—hooded, authoritative. Mist swirled at their feet, so dense it almost looked solid, like a living carpet shifting with their every breath. Though he couldn't see their face, the figure's posture radiated confidence, and there was a force in the air that made Mikhailis's pulse pound.

He tried to take a step forward, but his feet stayed planted in place. Fear, curiosity, or some invisible barrier—he couldn't decide which held him back. The chanting grew louder, intensifying with each passing second. A prickly sensation crawled along his skin, as if the entire hall were charged with raw energy. Light flickered from braziers set between the pillars, casting wild shadows that danced across the walls and over the hooded figures.

Suddenly, the voice spoke—a voice that seemed to come from every direction, making his bones vibrate. "The Sovereign Catalyst must awaken." The words echoed through his mind. It wasn't just the tone, which was deep and resonant, but the layering of many voices speaking at once. He swore he heard both men and women, old and young, all in a single sentence.

Something inside him lurched. Sovereign Catalyst. That phrase again. It was the same title Eldris had hinted at back in the manor, the same one that seemed to haunt his steps since stepping foot in Luthadel. He tried to speak, to ask what it meant, but the chanting only grew louder, drowning out any thought. It felt like the entire place throbbed with an otherworldly heartbeat, matching the racing of his own.

The robed figure at the center turned slightly, raising one hand in a measured gesture. Mikhailis felt a pull, like gravity shifting. He wanted to approach, to reach out and ask who they were, what they wanted from him. But the swirling mist coiled upward, forming a barrier that cut him off like a wall of fog. He took another breath, tasting the cold, metallic tang in the air.

"The Sovereign Catalyst must awaken,"