The mountain wind howled like a wounded beast.
Ashan's fingers were numb, his breath a white mist in the thin air. Every step higher felt like climbing into another world — one where the earth no longer trusted mortals to tread.
The Nightfang Wolf moved ahead, sure-footed on the icy ridges. The calf trudged behind Ashan, its small hooves leaving deep prints in the snow.
They had been walking for two days without sight of the Sky Vulture. That worried Ashan more than seeing it. Predators that disappeared were predators that were planning something.
At last, the wolf halted. "Look," it murmured.
Ashan followed its gaze — and there it was.
Across a narrow, frost-bitten ravine rose a structure carved directly into the mountainside. Massive pillars of dark stone framed a set of gates that towered like a fortress wall. Each pillar bore carvings of shepherds not driving ordinary flocks, but herds of glowing, mythical beasts: qilin, phoenixes, even dragons.
Above the gate, a single symbol blazed faintly in the cold light — a whip, encircled by the sun and moon.
Ashan shivered. "That's it? The Temple?"
The wolf's golden eyes gleamed. "The Temple of the First Shepherd. Built before the realms were divided. It is said the first mortal to touch a divine beast was a shepherd who carried a whip of heaven's own light."
Ashan glanced at his own whip. "And I'm supposed to be… what, his successor?"
The wolf didn't answer. It simply leapt to the other side of the ravine in a single bound.
Ashan looked down at the drop, swallowed hard, and followed — barely making it across with the calf in tow. His knees buckled when they landed, but they were still in one piece.
The gates loomed over them now. They were shut, but a faint hum resonated in Ashan's bones the closer he came. It wasn't sound. It was recognition.
He reached out and touched the cold metal. The whip at his side flared — not with light, but with a pulse, like a heartbeat.
The gates groaned. Slowly, impossibly, they opened inward.
Inside was a vast hall bathed in a golden haze. Dust motes swirled like stars. Statues lined the walls — each depicting a shepherd holding the whip in one hand and the head of a kneeling beast in the other.
But the thing that caught Ashan's breath was the far end of the hall.
A throne of white stone sat atop a dais, and upon it rested… another whip.
Except this one was nothing like his own. It was longer, woven from strands of what looked like living starlight. The air around it shimmered as though the universe bent to its presence.
The wolf's voice was hushed. "The Whip of the First Shepherd. Said to hold the power to command even gods."
Ashan took a step forward — and the ground shook.
From the shadows between the statues stepped a figure.
Tall, robed in furs, face hidden behind a bronze mask. Its voice was neither male nor female, but something older.
"To touch the First Whip, shepherd, you must prove your soul is unbroken. Fail… and this temple will be your grave."
The calf pressed against Ashan's leg, trembling. The wolf's hackles rose.
Ashan swallowed. "And if I succeed?"
The masked figure tilted its head. "Then you will no longer be merely a shepherd. You will begin the path to godhood."