The wound was reopening, and this time, it required more than just gold to heal; it required a sacrifice of the very bloodline that had broken the pact. Emma realized then that she wasn't just a scholar recording history—she was the final chapter.

"You shouldn't have woken the memory," a voice rasped from the shadows.

As Emma traced the indigo ink of the parchment, the floor beneath her shuddered. A low, rhythmic thrum—like a massive heartbeat—echoed through the stone.