The Versailles Vault - Dust To Dust

u never tr

reams, Château Delacroix breathed with quiet, unnerving life. The air held the scent of beeswax, centuries-o

gainst her skin. There was no purpose in her wandering-not at first. Only

nce. Silence was dis

east wing. And certainly not her father. Jean-Luc Delacroix's dealings were always conducted behind closed

ould have

ith his back to her, tall and still in his tailored black suit. Across from him was a man she didn't recogniz

rowed h

on his right hand, and that's when s

ri

t wasn't just the stone that caught the light. It was the engraving: a droplet-just a drop-of

though the metal drank the li

s stomac

en that sy

careful. Inside the box had been a stack of old letters, a pressed violet, and a torn sketchbook. On one of the pages, there had been a symbol has

of Ver

hought about

her like a fi

autiful, always sad. Always looking over her sh

d back, her he

've made

wing room, her

ice was a dagger

But that would be worse. She wasn't a child anymo

he doorway, lifting her

-gray, ancient-stayed locked on hers as though h

le. "This is Monsieur D'Argent.

a slight no

his eyes. "Mademoiselle Delacroix. Yo

urge to glance

e doesn't speak of much. Tha

ter, but a flicker of warni

led. "Sharp, l

eath catch, but she

" she murmured, stepping ba

ng slowly until she rounded the corner. Only when she was out o

eded a

-

k thre

emembered. Rafael Volkov noticed immediately-he always did-but said nothing. That was his way.

move on the

neyard as a storm rolled in over the hills. Lightning flick

ooking at Rafael. "Have you ever

respond

lance

ghtened almost

people usually ask a

've hear

whispers. Myths. Ol

re a ring with the emblem-a blood drop above a vault. I remember i

was s

, voice low.

ly looke

ion. It's more like a... shadow. A legacy that traces back centuries. Not even just to Versailles-but to

s blood

inee

ts. Selective breeding among nobles. Later, after the fall of the French monarchy, some of the survivors allegedly c

at him. "An

. The Delacroix name appears in every conspiracy thre

-but there was no

do? This... Bloo

s something unique. Resilience. Intelligence. Maybe even something more. Some think it's nons

ers

ey," Rafael said finally. "To somethi

d. "Like a

ike a vault. A real one. On

ippled dow

-

urned to her room, she found a

n, the ink smudge

no name. N

singl

mind forgets. Do not trust

ge of her bed, st

be let in. The walls felt tighter somehow, the shadows thicker. She looked toward her

sp

th

sil

cent of ol

breath-ragg

med of marble corridors under Versailles. Of a door carved with rose

It's in your memory. And memory is t

sat at her writing desk, the note from earlier still clutched in her han

at whispered secrets she couldn't quite grasp. She rose, drawn by an inexplicable urge, a

he tall windows, casting silver patterns on the floor. She moved with purpose, her finger

and edges frayed. She pulled it out, heart pounding. The journal had

, the entries grew erratic-words scribbled hastily, sentences incomplete. One page caught her attention: a

ct Sanguine: The plan to purify th

g. Her life, her lineage-it was all part of some g

spin around. Rafael stood at the

t be here," h

lied, holding up the journa

ents. Enough to know that your family

anned to use me. As a vessel, a continua

find the truth together. But yo

e hardening in her eyes. "Then we

th it the secrets of generations past. Inside, a new deter