The Temple of Aenithra was not built; it was dreamed into existence from the deepest strata of the world's oldest glacier.
Inside, the architecture defied the laws of weight and warmth. Vaulted ceilings of crystal-clear ice soared into the gloom, supported by columns carved to resemble ancient, frozen trees whose branches interlaced in a canopy of frost.
The morning light, filtered through the thick, translucent walls, didn't merely illuminate the space... it shattered. Everywhere one looked, rainbow prisms danced across the ornate ice pews, splashing violet and crimson light over the high nobility of Nevareth.
The atmosphere was a suffocating hush of silk and bated breath. At the far end of the long aisle, lined with ice roses frozen in eternal, sapphire-tinted bloom, stood the High Priestess Serah.
