Chapter 80: The Portrait and the Sword (II)
Nathan looked at the portrait one last time.
And then he noticed something.
Behind the portrait, at the upper right edge, a faint glow was filtering through the edge of the frame. A pale yellow light that didn’t match the dawn coming through the windows. It was coming from behind the portrait itself.
Nathan pointed at it.
"Sprout."
"Yes?"
"What’s that?"
Liaraen turned to look where he was pointing.
She went very still.
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"I don’t know what that is."
"You’ve never seen it before?"
"Never. The portrait has been on this wall my entire life. I never noticed anything behind it."
"Apparently there’s something behind it now."
"Yes."
Liaraen approached the portrait. Carefully, she placed her hands on the frame. The portrait wasn’t fixed to the wall. It was hanging from a ceremonial hook that allowed it to move slightly. She pushed it to the side, exposing the wall behind.
And behind the portrait, carved into the tree’s own wood, was a figure.
A small circular pattern, approximately the size of a palm, with elven inscriptions emitting a faint yellow light. The light specifically hadn’t been there before. Neither during the portrait’s hanging, nor during the years Liaraen had lived in the mansion.
It was active now.
And it had been waiting for exactly something.
Liaraen extended her right hand toward the pattern.
She stopped a centimeter away.
She looked at Nathan.
Nathan nodded.
She touched the pattern’s center.
And the light reacted.
It spread through the pattern’s lines. Then it spread from the pattern into the surrounding wall. And in seconds, approximately one square meter of the living tree’s wall began to move. The wood fibers separated with the specific organic efficiency of structures cultivated over centuries for ceremonial purposes. And apparently, without sound, without friction, an opening formed in the wall.
Behind the opening, there was a small chamber.
Nathan looked at it.
Then at Liaraen.
"Sprout."
"Yes?"
"Apparently your house had specifically secret chambers."
"This is the first time I’ve seen this chamber."
"And apparently none of them were known to the house’s second daughter."
"Apparently not."
"Understood."
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"We’re going in."
"Good."
They entered.
---
The chamber was small.
Approximately three meters by three. With a low ceiling, appropriate for the tree’s central trunk. With walls carved with elven inscriptions that Liaraen recognized with growing slowness and that apparently were ceremonial formulas of a higher rank.
And in the chamber’s exact center, on a pedestal of polished stone, there was a chest.
Elegant. Approximately half a meter long. With a wooden frame covered in silver metal details. And with a ceremonial lock that apparently required a specific activation to open.
Liaraen approached the pedestal.
She looked at the chest.
She was very still for nearly a full minute.
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"I know this chest."
"How?"
"My father mentioned it when I was little. He described it as ’the house’s treasure.’ Apparently he never showed me what was inside. He said I would see it when I was old enough to understand it."
"Apparently now you’re old enough."
"He left it protected so it would only appear when someone from the house entered with specific intent."
"So that happened when you entered just now."
"I think so."
Liaraen extended her hand toward the chest’s lock.
She touched it.
She felt something. A specific vibration. Then, without resistance, without additional ceremony, the lid opened.
And inside, on a lining of dark green velvet, there was a sword.
Nathan approached to see it.
And for a second, he was speechless.
Because the sword was, specifically, considerably more impressive than any sword Nathan had seen in his life.
Long. Approximately one meter twenty of blade. The blade itself was a bright green color, with golden patterns engraved along its entire length, forming branches and leaves and stylized flowers that apparently moved very subtly when Nathan looked at them directly. The hilt was worked in gold with inlays of polished blue stones. The pommel ended in a larger blue stone, with elven inscriptions carved around it.
And from the blade, very subtly, a faint green light emanated.
The sword was alive.
Somehow.
Enchanted.
With a type of magic Nathan didn’t recognize but that Soul Sense registered as distinct from the official Pantheon’s or the seventeenth’s Seals.
Liaraen extended her hand.
She stopped ten centimeters from the hilt.
She felt something.
Nathan noticed.
She noticed too.
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"It’s reacting to me."
"Understood."
"The sword has some form of lineage recognition. It knows I’m Sael’thoryn."
"Understood."
"My father protected it with a blood enchantment or something similar. Only direct members of the house can take it."
"Damn, I thought this was going to be a gift for me."
She closed her hand around the hilt.
And the sword accepted the contact.
The green light intensified slightly. The golden glow of the blade pulsed once. And Liaraen, with the strength the enchantment apparently provided her, lifted the sword from the chest with the specific ease that suggested the sword was actively helping her hold it.
She turned to Nathan.
With the sword in her right hand.
With the posture she’d developed during twenty-eight days of travel under the constant observation of a human Hunter who’d learned to read her expressions with precision.
With her pale green eyes different from how they’d been fifteen minutes earlier.
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"I’m going to restore the house."
"Understood."
"After I find my sister."
"Like that? You’re going to leave?"
"I’m going to find my sister."
"Understood."
"And I’m going to restore House Sael’thoryn to what it was. To what my father would have wanted. To what my mother would have wanted. To what all of them apparently deserve it to be."
"Understood."
Liaraen lowered the sword. She held it with both hands in front of her chest.
And she turned fully toward Nathan.
With a specifically firm voice.
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"There’s something I need to tell you."
Nathan looked at her.
*Here it comes.*
*I feel like a proud father right now.*
"Go ahead, Sprout," Nathan said.
Liaraen took a breath.
And she began to speak.