Chapter 3: Sabotage and Sacrifice Below the Radiant Dome
Chapter 3: The Saboteurs Beneath the Dome
After the statues’ challenge and the triumph at the bronze door, silence fell heavy, broken only by the companions’ unsteady breaths. With Toy’s bells quiet for once and Hat drifting like a shadow through golden beams, Grayson pressed ahead—through an arched passage, down one last stair, and at last into a place neither day nor night could touch.
The Radiant Dome awaited: an expanse hewn from mountain crystal, so wide it dwarfed even the great hall above. Ribbons of color shimmered overhead, chasing each other through the arched facets. At the center rose the Heart Shrine—a carved pedestal luminous with flickering silver-white, atop which rested the Heart Orb of legend. Pillars of molten quartz reached up all around, glowing with ancient runes. Or they should have. Tonight, though, each rune guttered, bleeding light into black cracks veining the stones.
Grayson’s breath caught. "We’re too late."
Hat shivered in the musty air, the edges of its brim twitching. "No. Not too late. But time is thinner than hope. The crack-spreaders are near."
From beneath one pillar, shadows detached themselves—figures moving with stealth and purpose, cloaked in midnight-blue. Seven in all, and one far taller than the rest, a cruel glint catching at his chest: an amulet jagged as a dragon’s fang, pulsing with smoky essence. They slunk forward, blades bared, hands woven with the chill of spellwork. Grayson recognized the armor accents—the saboteurs had once worn the Queen’s Guard’s crest.
Akira’s hand flew to his sword. He whispered, voice a barely-restrained snarl: "Traitors."
Toy, always near Grayson’s heel, leaned close, voice tiny as a mouse. "Look—they have the talon amulets. My grandmother always said those corrupt the heart."
Hat’s voice guided them. "They were true. Now—dragon called, dragon answered."
The saboteurs fanned out. Their leader, face sharp and proud under the lamplight, held out a darkened rod and slammed it to the stone. Instantly, the cracks widened. Light from the Heart Orb leapt up, streaming out—drawn away.
Akira’s face paled as if he’d seen a ghost. "No…"
From the shadows, another stepped forward. This one was helmetless. He tossed the visor aside, and Grayson’s heart stumbled—he looked so like Akira that they could have shared a mirror. Scar nicked across one brow. Eyes as hard as hammered steel.
Akira’s voice wavered. "Reiji."
The leader—Reiji—held the rod with surety. "It was always a farce, brother. All the oaths, while dragons starved outside these walls. I’ll see the real power in the open, or I’ll bring the palace down trying."
Hat swept forward, brim glowing. Words rang out—no language Grayson knew, yet heavy with force. Illusions exploded across the chamber: doppelgangers of Grayson, Akira, and Toy sprang up, four, then eight, then twenty strong, charging and weaving, blades and bells alike. The real Grayson ducked low at Hat’s nod, and Toy slipped nimbly behind a spire, vanishing among the chaos.
Shadows clashed with illusions. Saboteur blades sliced air and phantoms—never quite where any enemy truly stood. Toy, flat as only a jester no longer bound by nature could be, wormed into the tangle. He crept beneath an acolyte’s cloak, snatched a ring of keys, then moved toward the pedestal. He eyed the Heart Orb—a beacon dimming even as he watched.
Meanwhile, at the chamber’s center, Akira and Reiji circled each other. History thickened the air.
"You left us. You left me," Reiji hissed, brandishing the dragon-fang as if it could bite. "What brother follows code while kin rots at the Gate?"
Akira’s reply was steel-wrapped sorrow. "I begged you—don’t make this your legacy. You’re still—"
A bolt of red-black energy flashed from Reiji’s amulet. Akira barely sidestepped, armor sizzling where it brushed him. The impact cracked a pillar; flakes of magical quartz rained down.
Grayson, at the edge of the melee, scanned for Toy—could he get to the Orb? Another surge of panic: What if they all failed? What if this was where every hero’s story ended?
Hat’s voice, soft but relentless, rang by his ear: "Sometimes a false step saves more than a thousand safe ones."
Grayson, gulping, made his move: He sprang into the open, hands lifted high—no weapon drawn. The chamber froze.
"Stop!" Grayson shouted. "You want the Orb? Take me instead. Trade the hostages—let them go. I’ll hand you the Orb myself, you have my word as a knight."
Toy, hearing the declaration, paled—though he looked a little insulted not to be consulted first. Hat offered a tremulous nod.
Reiji’s eyes narrowed. "A gambit. The books said you were slow, not foolish."
"Try me," Grayson replied, though his voice cracked. Then, carefully, he moved to the pedestal—where Toy, quick as a thought, exchanged the real Heart Orb with a flawless crystal mimic conjured by Hat’s magic. The saboteurs would never know, at least not at first.
As Reiji approached, blade gleaming, Hat rattled off cryptic guidance. "The floor’s script is older than blood. Twist the seventh rune left and the shield will sing. Quick, now!"
Akira, catching the cue, knocked aside Reiji’s swing and pivoted for the pillar base. Toy scrambled underfoot, working nimble fingers through the rune sequence even as Grayson, in full sight, feigned terror—extracting every ounce of self-doubt and turning it into convincing performance.
The runes flared blue-green. Glassy shields shimmered up around the captives—guards and servants drawn in by the saboteurs—protecting them even as saboteur blades bounced off. Magic spat and danced as Hat amplified the distortions, turning shadow into bright afterimages.
"Illusions and trickery!" one saboteur cried. Reiji spun, saw the captured hostages now vanished behind impenetrable crystal screens—and for the first time, his composure cracked.
Grayson, still holding the fake Orb, made a final offer. "Let them go. You get this. Or fight the whole palace’s worth of spirits."
Toy, from the shadows, couldn’t help but add, "And just so you know, most of those spirits are grumpy."
At that, two saboteurs flinched and made a break for the side tunnel—only to be swallowed by an illusory army of Hat’s conjurelings. The others surged after Reiji, but Akira caught his brother by the wrist.
In a final desperate struggle, Akira pleaded, "You’re not gone, Reiji. Come back—leave the fang."
Reiji’s rage crumbled, replaced by blurry resignation. He pulled free, but left the dragon-fang amulet clattering to the ground, its glow abruptly dead. The last of the crashed saboteurs slipped through a tunnel mouth, fear painting their every feature, and sprinted away. Grayson feared he heard the echo of dragon’s wings in the distance, summoned now beyond all stopping.
As quiet seeped in, Hat finally permitted the illusions to dissolve. Toy bounced from behind the pedestal, triumphant, displaying the real Heart Orb—a little worse for wear, but pulsing faintly with promise.
Akira knelt where his brother had faded into the shadows, eyes closed in pain that was both relief and regret. Grayson watched him, then rested a hand on his shoulder. Toy joined, silent for once, and Hat circled them with a cloak of tired light.
The surviving palace guards, free of their captors, gathered weakly in gratitude. Yet the Heart Shrine was flickering—its protective runes unstable, the cracks in its foundation widening. Grayson stared at the orb in Toy’s hands—no longer blinding, but pulsing like a tired heart.
"We saved it," Toy said softly. "Or did we?"
Grayson let the weight of their actions settle on his shoulders. "At what cost? I almost lost us everything with my gamble. The dragon will know."
The dusk deepened outside, shadows lengthening on the Dome’s high walls. Hat’s brim folded in mourning, but its voice was gentle. "Courage is not the absence of fear. It’s the offer despite it. The dragon comes, yes—but heroes are made when hope seems most lost."
Akira wiped his sword and stood. Toy squeezed Grayson’s hand, bells jingling with genuine warmth this time. The Heart Orb shone again, very faintly—and Grayson knew their greatest trial was yet ahead.
Together, with wounds fresh and unity tested, they looked up as the true night finally settled. Above, the first tremors of dragon-fire shimmered, promising reckoning, and perhaps, redemption or ruin.