The return to the temple was silent.
The mountain route was still the same, its leaning trees, its cold air, but Seirion couldn't stop hearing the echo of the God of Fortune's laughter in his mind.
A soft, light laugh… the laugh of someone who had just won a game whose outcome They had foreseen from the very beginning.
The match was over.
And, just as Seirion had feared, he had lost.
He didn't remember exactly how he lost or perhaps he did, but the lock he himself had placed on his memories was already working. He only knew two things:
One: the God of Fortune won with an infuriating elegance.
Two: Seirion had received a hint.
A clue that now burned in his mind like a fresh brand. One he couldn't fully unravel, but which lingered there, waiting.
One that he… for the moment… could not reveal even to himself.
The wind blew as he crossed into the fruit grove surrounding his temple. Except it was no longer the forest he remembered.
