Leofric’s POV.
The courtyard was quiet after the storm of the marking ceremony.
The torches along the walls flickered casting shadows as I walked, exhausted, toward the small temple hidden in the northwest tower.
My boots crunched against the ground , each footstep a reminder of what I had done, and what it might cost us both.
I paused at the temple’s heavy wooden door, scarred and worn by centuries of hands seeking solace or judgment.
Inside, ancient statues glowed faintly along stone walls. Scented incense filled the air. The old priestess worked at her altar, her back turned.
“Reverend Yara,” I called softly.
She turned as if sensing me, though I stepped into the chamber without invitation.
Her eyes were pale silver, the color of moonlight on ice.
“You walk with heavy burdens
