Chapter 285 The lock breaks 2

Chapter 285: Chapter 285 The lock breaks 2

Talia’s POV

I looked at him, and I felt the love in my chest. "Thank you, Kaelen."

We reached the cell where we had locked the guard. He was still unconscious, lying on the stone floor, and his chest was rising and falling slowly.

I opened the cell door slowly, and I stepped inside. Kaelen followed me, really to knock the guard out if he woke up, while I knelt down and searched the guard’s body. His belt was empty, and his pockets were empty.

Then I felt it. There was a small bunch of keys, tucked inside his boot.

I pulled it out, and I held it up to the torchlight. There was an old and rusted one in the bunch, but it was silver. It had to be the key to the door.

"This is it," I said. "This must be the key."

Kaelen looked at it. "It is silver."

I nodded. "I know. But it is the only way."

We stepped out of the cell, and I locked the door behind us. I made sure the lock was secure, so that only someone from the outside could open it.

"Now he cannot follow us," I said.

Kaelen looked at me. "You are something else, Talia."

I shook my head, and smiled softly. "I am just trying to survive."

We walked back to the silver door, and I held the key in my hand. The silver burned against my palm, but I ignored the pain.

"Kaelen," I said. "Hold the torch."

He shook his head. “Let me open the door. I can manage with the silver reaction.”

“No, Kaelen.” I said, strongly refusing to give him the key. “The silver is affecting me, but not as bad it is for you.”

Kaelen shook his head. “But, Talia...’’

I held my hand up. “Do not argue with me here, Kaelen. Please just hold the touch.”

Kaelen gave up, and he took the torch from me, and I reached for the lock.

I slid the key in, but the key did not fit.

I tried again, and still nothing. I tried every angle, and every position, but the key would not turn.

"It does not fit," I said, my voice tight with frustration.

Kaelen stepped closer. "Let me try."

I finally handed him the key, and he tried. But his hands were shaking from the silver, and he could not get it to work either.

"It is not the right key," he said, after trying non stop for a few minutes.

I felt the hope drain from my chest. "Then how do we open it?"

I looked at the lock, and I saw something I had not noticed before. There were symbols, carved into the silver. I looked closer, and noticed that they were Silvertongue symbols.

I reached out and touched them, and I felt the warmth spread through my fingers. The symbols were old, and worn by time. But they were still there. Still waiting.

"Kaelen," I said. "Look at this."

He moved closer and looked at the symbols. "What are they?"

"Silvertongue symbols," I said. "They are on the lock."

He looked at me. "Can you read them?"

I studied the symbols, and the meaning came to me slowly. "They say... only the blood of the last one can open this door."

Kaelen’s jaw tightened. "Your blood."

I nodded. "My blood."

He grabbed my arm. "Talia, no. The silver will burn you."

I looked at him, and I felt the determination settle in my chest. "I know."

"Talia..." Kaelen held my shoulder.

"Kaelen," I said. "My mother is on the other side of this door. I have come too far to stop now."

He looked at me, and I saw the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to protect me, but he knew I would not stop.

"Fine," he said. "But if it gets too much, you let go."

I nodded. "I will."

I turned to the lock, and I reached out to touch the symbols.

The silver burned, and the pain shot through my fingers like fire, sharp and searing. I gasped, and I felt the heat spread up my arm, but I did not let go.

I pressed my fingers against the symbols, and I felt the warmth spread through my chest. The symbols began to glow, faint at first, then brighter.

"Talia," Kaelen said. "It is working."

I pressed harder, and the lock began to crack.

The silver burned deeper into my skin, and I felt the tears streaming down my face but I did not let go.

Suddenly, the lock broke, and the door swung open.

Light flooded out, bright and warm, and I blinked, raising my hand to shield my eyes. The silver had burned my palm, leaving red and raw marks. But I did not care.

When the light had faded, I looked inside the room, trying to figure out where the door led to, but then I saw something.

The door had opened to a cell that was small and dark. And in the corner of the cell, there was a woman.

She was thin, so thin that I could see the bones in her wrists. Her face was pale, and her hair was tangled and matted. Her clothes were tattered rags, hanging loosely on her frame.

But she was alive.

I knew her face, because I had seen it in my dreams, in my visions, and in the memories that had haunted me for fifteen years. I knew her eyes, even though they were weak and faded. I knew her cheekbones, even though they were sharp and hollow.

I knew her, because she was my mother.

I stumbled forward, and my voice came out as a whisper. "Mother?"