The silence after the confrontation lingered like smoke.
Lyra hadn’t spoken since the spirits withdrew, their judgment postponed but not forgotten. Kade and Jaren had argued quietly, bitterly about what came next. She’d walked away before either could ask her to choose.
Now, the temple ruins loomed around her, ancient stone swallowed by ivy and shadow. She moved through it like a memory, boots whispering over moss and cracked marble. The god’s power pulsed beneath her skin, restless, waiting. It knew this place. It remembered.
Behind the altar, half-hidden by vines, she found the entrance. A narrow passage carved into the mountain’s bones. She didn’t hesitate.
The hollow opened like a wound—wide, dark, and humming with something old. The air was damp and cold, thick with the scent of e
