Chapter Five - The Temple of Ash
862 Words
They saw Delphi before they reached it, The mountain of Parnassus loomed like a sleeping god, its slopes veiled in early mist. Even from a distance, Artemisia felt it , the pulse beneath the earth, uneven now. Disturbed and below the mountain…
Ruins.
The once-great Temple of Apollo stood as a blackened skeleton against the pale sky. Columns cracked. Marble scorched. Statues shattered. The sacred laurel trees reduced to charred ribs clawing toward heaven.
Artemisia slowed.
Drakon did not.
“You walk as if it does not pain you,” she said quietly.
“It does.”
“You do not look like a man in pain.”
He stopped at the edge of the sacred grounds.
The wind stirred ash across the stone steps.
“Pain is rarely visible,” he said.
She studied him.
The Ashen Warden.
Drakon of Sparta.
Feared across provinces. Whispered about in villages. Blamed for Delphi’s fall.
He looked like stone carved into the shape of a man.
But his jaw was tight.
His silver eyes were darker here.
As if the ruin remembered him.
“You were close to the Oracle,” she said.
“Yes.”
“How close?”
Silence stretched.
“Close enough that she knew what I would become.”
“And what is that?”
He stepped onto the temple grounds.
“A necessary evil.”
Artemisia followed reluctantly.
The moment her bare foot touched the blackened marble, something inside her snapped taut.
The air felt wrong.
Not empty.
Hollow.
Like something had been removed violently.
She inhaled slowly.
“I feel it.”
“So do I.”
They climbed the steps.
The great bronze doors lay melted and twisted inward.
Inside, the sacred chamber was gutted.
The Omphalos stone , once the navel of the world , lay cracked down its center.
Artemisia approached it cautiously.
Her fingertips hovered over the split.
The moment she touched it—
The world shattered.
She gasped as light and shadow consumed her vision.
She stood inside the temple.
Whole.
Unburned.
Alive.
The Oracle stood before her , veiled in white.
“You are late,” the Oracle said calmly.
Artemisia’s breath trembled.
“This is memory.”
“This is echo.”
The Oracle stepped closer.
“You carry the key.”
“I did not ask for it.”
“No one asks for destiny.”
“I do not believe in destiny.”
The Oracle’s lips curved faintly.
“Neither did he.”
“He?”
“Drakon.”
The name echoed through the chamber like thunder.
“He believes he stands guard over the seal.”
“He does.”
“He believes he can carry the burden alone.”
“Yes.”
The Oracle reached out , touching Artemisia’s chest.
“But the seal was never meant to answer to one.”
The vision fractured.
Fire roared.
Roman soldiers stormed the temple.
The Oracle turned , calm even in death.
She looked past the flames—
To Drakon.
Standing at the threshold.
Silver-eyed.
Torn between stopping Rome…
Or stopping something worse.
“You must not hate him for surviving,” the Oracle whispered.
The flames consumed everything.
Artemisia screamed—
—and the vision broke.
She collapsed onto the cracked marble floor.
Drakon was beside her instantly.
His hands caught her shoulders.
“Artemisia.”
Her name in his voice felt different.
Sharp.
Afraid.
She blinked up at him.
“You knew,” she whispered.
“About what?”
“The key.”
His expression darkened.
“I suspected.”
“You knew.”
“I did not know it was you.”
She shoved his hands away and rose unsteadily.
“You brought me here because of prophecy.”
“I brought you here because the fragments are drawn to you.”
“Because I am the key!”
“Yes.”
Silence thundered between them.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
“You used me.”
“I protected you.”
“You decided for me.”
“Yes.”
The word hit like a slap.
Her eyes burned.
“You arrogant, insufferable—”
“I would make the same choice again,” he said evenly.
Her hand lifted before she thought.
The crack of the slap echoed through the ruined chamber.
He did not flinch.
Did not react.
But something in his eyes shifted.
Not anger.
Acceptance.
“I deserve that,” he said quietly.
Her fury faltered.
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because I do not know how to do this any other way.”
The honesty stunned her into silence.
He stepped back.
Putting space between them deliberately.
“I do not manipulate you for power,” he said. “I manipulate circumstances to prevent catastrophe.”
“That is worse.”
“I know.”
Her heart pounded.
The air shifted suddenly.
Magic recoiled violently.
Drakon stiffened.
“They found us.”
The ground beneath the temple cracked open again.
This time—
The presence was stronger.
And something else moved within the shadows.
A figure stepped through the smoke.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Familiar to Drakon.
“Hello, brother.”
- Writer
