Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 222: Lock

The seam didn’t respond.

Lindarion kept his hand there for another ten seconds, just to be sure. The surface remained inert. No temperature shift. No sound. Not even a mana ripple.

If there was a mechanism buried under the stone, it was older than anything his core could interface with.

He exhaled quietly.

Nothing.

He opened his eyes. Lira stood across from him, arms folded. Still watching. Luneth was near the entrance now, not pacing, but not still either.

She was lingering, like someone who had heard a word whispered at the edge of sleep and was trying to catch it again.

Kael adjusted the strap on his back, eyeing the chamber’s symmetry. "So that’s it?"

Stitch spoke from beside him. "No reaction. No aura. No residual feedback."

Sylric knelt beside the seam and ran a coin edge over it. It didn’t catch. Just glided clean over the curve. "Door’s not sealed," he said. "It’s dormant."

Lira didn’t move.

"Or dead," she said.

Mekir shifted his stance at the far end of the circle. "We going to wait for it to wake up?"

"No," Lindarion said. "We fall back."

No one questioned it.

They were already turning by the time he stood.

Not because they were afraid.

But because they understood that this wasn’t a fight they could win by staring harder.

Not today.

—

The walk back was quiet.

Not silent. But close.

Stitch chewed a ration bar like it had insulted him. Kael muttered under his breath about trail angles and cursed mountain architects. Mekir stayed near the rear, posture unreadable.

Lira walked ahead of Lindarion.

Luneth walked behind him.

He wasn’t sure which felt heavier.

The pressure from the rune had receded, but only just. Like whatever lived behind that stone still had a hand pressed to the other side, waiting for the next knock.

His core had quieted. Not relaxed. But listening.

He kept his hand near his coat buttons the whole way back.

Just in case.

—

They made it back to the outcrop by late afternoon.

No one suggested a fire.

They didn’t need one.

The cold wasn’t physical anymore.

It was inside their thoughts now, settled like dust in corners they couldn’t reach.

Velna was already back, posted at a lookout rock above camp. She didn’t speak when they returned. Just nodded once.

Lindarion dropped his gear near the table. Sat. Waited for the others to settle.

Sylric cracked his neck and slumped against a crate. "Well."

"That’s one word for it," Kael said, tossing a pack down hard enough to scatter dirt.

"Whatever it is," Stitch said, "it’s not keyed to you. Not directly."

"No lock opens without the right pressure," Mekir added.

Lira remained standing.

Arms folded.

Eyes steady.

Same as ever.

Lindarion looked across the table, then finally said it.

"We need more people."

Sylric raised an eyebrow. "You want backup?"

"I want options," Lindarion replied. "If this is the central node, if that chamber is part of the full structure, they didn’t build it for seven people to decode. They built it to last. To resist. To keep something in or out, for as long as possible."

Stitch scratched his chin. "So we need scholars?"

"No," Lira said. "We need specialists."

"Meaning?"

"Anyone who’s seen this kind of thing before."

Sylric rubbed at his beard. "I know people. Not the kind you invite to tea, but they’ll know what’s on the other side of that rock. Or what it’s trying to become."

"You trust them?" Lindarion asked.

"No," Sylric said. "But I owe them. And they don’t like being owed."

Kael dropped onto a rock with a grunt. "So what, we just sit here while you summon your pen pals?"

Lindarion shook his head. "No. We split."

Sylric’s gaze sharpened. "That’s risky."

"So is sitting around waiting for something else to find us first."

Luneth finally spoke, voice quieter than usual. "You think it’s aware of us."

He looked at her. "I think it was built to notice."

She didn’t disagree.

—

They ate in silence. Again.

No one used the center fire ring. They spread out across the stone, each person taking their own edge of the perimeter, like the circle had followed them out of the mountain.

Lindarion stayed near the map table, watching the pass wind into the horizon. Ashwing had landed high above, wings tucked tight, tail coiled in a slow rhythm like he was dreaming something he didn’t want to remember.

Lira approached after the others had started drifting into sleep or guard rotation.

"Two days," she said.

He didn’t look up. "What?"

"To get a message to your people. And for them to send anyone who knows the ancient families."

He closed his eyes for a second. "If they still respond."

She nodded. "If."

She didn’t say more.

Didn’t need to.

He exhaled slowly.

They were close. He knew it. That rune chamber was part of something real, something massive.

And it hadn’t reacted not because it wasn’t working, but because they hadn’t met its conditions.

Not yet.

The system hadn’t said anything.

But he knew what it would say if it did.

[Unknown Construct Detected — Interface Denied]

Which meant it recognized the structure.

But didn’t control it.

That wasn’t comforting.

Not at all.

— ƒreewebɳovel.com

Later, when only the watch rotation remained awake, and the stars had sunk behind high fog, Lindarion stood at the edge of the ridge. Hands in coat pockets. Eyes on nothing.

Luneth walked up beside him.

Still quiet.

Still pale.

But standing.

She didn’t say anything. Not at first.

Then, finally.

"When it opens, you’ll go in."

He didn’t answer.

But she nodded like he had.

"Then I’ll follow."

That, he did answer.

"Not if I say no?"

"You won’t."

And she was right.

He didn’t want her anywhere near that thing.

But when it moved, when the seal finally broke, he’d want eyes beside him that didn’t flinch.

Hers didn’t.

Even now.

She looked at the pass, voice flat.

"I don’t think it’s a prison."

"What then?"

"A lock."

"To keep something out?"

She didn’t answer.

Which meant she wasn’t sure.

Or worse, she was.

And didn’t want to say it.

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