The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

"The Sovereign Catalyst must awaken," the voice repeated, as if urging him, commanding him.

He squinted, trying to see if the robed figure had a face beneath that hood, but everything was shadowed. The chanting rose to a fever pitch, and the lines on the floor started to glow, swirling in a complicated pattern that spread outward from the center. Each thread of light reminded him of the runes in the catacombs, but larger, more alive.

He tried to focus, to memorize details—anything that might help him understand—but the scene flickered, like a candle in the wind. He could feel the vision tearing at the edges of his consciousness, slipping through his fingers. Panic welled in his chest. He reached out a hand toward the robed figure, hoping for clarity.

Then it all went dark.

In an instant, he was back in the catacombs, the familiar scent of dust and crumbling stone filling his lungs. The flickering runes overhead felt so dim after the bright lights of that grand hall. He stumbled, the world around him spinning. Before he could topple over, a steady hand gripped his arm.

Lira was by his side, her breath slightly uneven from alarm. The warmth of her touch anchored him, reminding him he was still here, still in reality. "Again?" she asked, voice soft but tinged with genuine worry.

He forced a smile, the kind of smile he gave when he didn't want to appear weak, even though he felt like someone had just hammered a spike through his head. "Just a friendly visit from the past," he said, trying to make light of it. His heart was still racing, every beat echoing in his ears. The memory of that chanting still clung to him like an echo he couldn't shake.

He felt Lira's gaze on him, and though she didn't say anything more, he could sense her questions. It was the same silent concern he'd seen in her eyes multiple times before—times when he did something reckless or got himself into a predicament only half by choice. She looked as if she wanted to press him, to demand answers about what he'd seen, but she held back. Lira always respected his space, even if she disliked not knowing.

Rhea was standing a few paces away, arms folded, her expression torn between annoyance and concern. He could guess she'd never say it out loud, but she was worried too. She kept her distance, though, her shoulders tense. "You alright?" she asked, the question quiet and quick.

He nodded, exhaling. I've got to keep it together. The echo of that chanting still beat in his skull, but he fought to ignore the dizziness lingering behind his eyes. "I'm fine," he murmured. "Visions like these aren't new to me, you know?"

"Well, they might not be new, but they're definitely not normal," Rhea retorted, sounding more frustrated than anything else.

He didn't argue. She was right. But what else could he do? If these glimpses of a past or prophecy were part of the power calling to him, then maybe they were inevitable.

Lira squeezed his arm gently, then released him. She didn't remove her hand fast enough to hide that it trembled a bit, though. "We should be careful," she said, glancing at the dull glow of the runes on the walls. They seemed to flicker in time with Mikhailis's ragged breathing, as if reacting to his inner turmoil. "If these tunnels are triggering your visions, there might be more traps or illusions ahead."

Mikhailis took a moment to center himself, inhaling deeply. The cold air of the catacombs filled his lungs, grounding him in the present. A part of him wanted to joke that illusions couldn't be worse than the lumps of rock that nearly crushed them, but he bit back the remark. He needed to stay focused. Experience exclusive tales on My Virtual Library Empire

He straightened up, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. His limbs still felt stiff, but he forced them to move anyway. Rhea continued to observe him with that narrowed gaze, as if trying to read his every thought, but he tried not to let it rattle him.

I can't let these visions pull me under. He'd learned long ago that humor and a calm front were sometimes the only shields he had against fear. Even now, the memory of hooded figures chanting echoed, but he pushed it down.

"All right," he finally said, making a conscious effort to inject some lightness into his voice. "Let's see what our mysterious key unlocks."

He stepped away from Lira, taking a few steps closer to the pedestal and the mural. The key in his hand pulsed faintly, its runic lines still shimmering. Every so often, a faint vibration ran through it, tingling against his palm. The artifact felt heavier than before, as though it had gained weight from his vision, or maybe from the knowledge he'd glimpsed.

Rhea kept her sword at the ready, her eyes scanning the chamber for any sign of movement. "You really think it's going to be as simple as putting that key into a hole and opening a door?" she asked, trying to keep her tone sarcastic, but failing to disguise the hint of genuine unease.

He chuckled softly, wincing a bit at the throbbing in his head. "Simple? Probably not. But if it's a key, it must open something. And if it doesn't, well, we might just set off an ancient trap that tries to kill us. Again."@@novelbin@@

Rhea let out a dry laugh. "No wonder I follow you around. Life's never boring."

Lira, though quiet, knelt beside the carved lines beneath the mural, running her fingers lightly over a groove in the stone. She glanced at Mikhailis. "There's an indentation here, shaped oddly like the base of that key. The fit isn't perfect, but it might be worth a try." She stood, brushing dust from her knees, then carefully stepped aside, giving him space.

Mikhailis approached, the key's faint glow reflecting off the grooves in the wall. The lines around the indentation looked like part of a larger pattern that spiraled outward, connecting to the carved figure. He could almost picture the lines lighting up if the key was placed in just the right spot. Am I really about to do this? he thought. This is how curses start in every story I've read.

But there was no point hesitating now. Steeling himself, he knelt and gently aligned the key with the strange indent Lira had pointed out. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a subtle click echoed through the chamber, so soft he almost thought he imagined it.

A gentle hum rose, coming from somewhere behind the wall. It was like hearing a song from behind a closed door—muffled yet strangely beckoning. The key's glow brightened, and a faint tremor rippled across the floor.

Rhea took a step back, gripping her sword tighter. "If something jumps out of these walls, I'm slicing first and asking questions later."

Mikhailis shot her a lopsided grin. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Lira stood close, eyes full of cautious fascination. "It's working," she breathed. Her expression was half relief, half apprehension.

The lines in the mural lit up in a chain reaction, one after another, forming a web of faint light that outlined the robed figure and the giant silhouette behind it. Mikhailis watched, heart pounding, as the images seemed to move, like illusions dancing across the wall. The hooded figure raised an arm, and the silhouette in the background shifted. For a split second, Mikhailis thought it looked like a massive creature—maybe a legendary beast or some sort of monstrous guardian.

A soft clank sounded beneath the floor, followed by a rush of air that carried the scent of stale wind and old magic. He felt it brush over his skin, raising goosebumps. The entire chamber felt alive now, as if it had been sleeping for centuries, waiting for someone to activate it.

He stood slowly, letting his fingers slide off the key. It stayed in place, embedded in the wall. The humming grew louder, resonating through the stone. Then, with a low grinding noise, part of the wall began to shift, revealing a slit of darkness beyond. Dust trickled from overhead, and the runes on the walls sparked in rhythm with each new movement.

In the midst of it all, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him again. He closed his eyes, trying not to let the swirling shapes in his mind overwhelm him. This time, though, no new vision claimed him. Just a ghostly sensation of that hall, those chanting figures, those powerful words. Sovereign Catalyst.

When he opened his eyes again, he found Lira and Rhea both watching him. They didn't speak, but the concern in their faces was obvious. He gave them a faint nod, signaling that he was alright. Rhea shifted her weight, glancing at the newly formed passage. "So that's our next route?"