They traveled in silence for two days, avoiding roads, burning their scents, cloaking themselves in old spells of misdirection. Kaelen led without speaking unless necessary. Lucas never let him walk too far ahead. Cassius never let him trail too far behind. And Athena… she said nothing at all.
Because the trees were whispering.
Because the closer they came, the colder the stars became.
Because something ahead was waiting for her.
On the third night, they reached it.
Not a ruin. Not a collapsed altar.
A living temple.
Hidden in a ravine of black stone and dying roots, it pulsed faintly beneath the moss—not from light, but from memory. The shape was circular, like a coiled serpent, its entrance marked by a sunken door etched in blood-symbols that hadn't faded with time.
"It's awake," Kaelen whispered. "It's been waiting."
Cassius growled. "You first, then."
They entered one at a time.
