The small fishing boat rocked violently as waves slammed against its sides.

Elena gritted her teeth, clutching the scroll against her chest beneath her jacket. The spray of saltwater soaked her face, but her eyes stayed fixed on the jagged cliffs in the distance.

“La Cripta della Corona,” Gianni muttered beside her, his voice hushed with reverence and fear. “The Crown’s Crypt. No one who’s gone looking has ever returned.”

“Then they weren’t meant to rule,” Elena said, her voice low and cold.

Behind them, the rest of the crew—a small band of former Rossi loyalists—prepared to disembark. No one spoke of Xavier. No one needed to. His absence burned...