Who is this god?
My eyes drift across the doorway, where faded carvings had long since been eroded under time and storm. Above the entry, a shattered symbol had once gleamed in silver. Now, only a fragment of it remains. This place feels wrong.
My brows furrow. Why did this god let his people fall? Why is this place nothing but death and water now?
I glance at Dimitri, who says nothing. The vampire’s expression is as unreadable as ever. Maybe he knows more than he originally let on. Maybe he has seen temples like this before or knows stories that may have faded from mortal memory. If he does, he doesn’t offer any answers. So I swallow my unease and step inside.
The air is colder here. The ceiling has partially collapsed, and moonlight filters in through the cracks above. Stone pews lay broken, scattered across the floor in piles. Steel masks, once polished to a mirror shine, lie abandoned in the dust—some still upright, staring blankly with empty eyes.
My boots crunch over forgotten offerings and rusted trinkets. The altar is cracked down the middle; it’s a statue of Roxnos reduced to nothing but feet and a broken hand still clenching a blade. It’s quiet, but not peaceful.
Desolate.
As if the god himself has left and taken all meaning with him.
Dimitri's footsteps echo behind me as he enters with Serenya still cradled against his chest. The shadows follow them in and circle the broken altar, curling protectively, as though thisplace is sacred to them.
I step deeper into the gloom, my heart uneasy.
The shadows wind ahead of Dimitri and me, slipping through rubble toward a short, narrow staircase near the back of the temple that leads us down into a low-ceilinged chamber. The scent of damp stone and long-forgotten incense clings to the air. Whatever this place had once been—a prayer room, maybe—has become something else now. A fire crackles in the hearth to the left, and two figures stand at the back of the room, blades drawn before they even turn.
“Asbel,” I breathe, recognizing the taller of the two. And next to him—
“Lioran.”
They are alive. Together. Relief blooms in my chest, even through the exhaustion and the tight coil of dread that hasn’t loosened since Serenya collapsed.
Lioran blinks, a grin forming. “Koen? You look like shit. What are you—?”
Before he can finish, footsteps echo down the stairs behind me.
Dimitri steps into the firelight, his dark cloak billowing behind him like a shadow. In his arms, Serenya lies unconscious, wrapped in my cloak.
Asbel’s sword comes up. “Why do you have the princess? Put her down.”
Lioran moves with him, smile replaced by something tense and protective. “What the hells is this? What happened to her? Why is she here? What ishe—?”
“She’s hurt,” I interrupt, my voice hoarse. “We wereambushed. A summoner. She—she saved me.” The words burn in my throat.
“She nearlydiedsaving him,” Dimitri says coldly, ignoring their swords. “I’mthe one who has kept her alive since.”
“You expect us to believe that?” Lioran growls, eyes flashing as he steps closer. “That a vampire just happened to come along and protect her? What are you even doing out here in these cursed lands?”
I step between them before things can escalate. “It doesn’t matter why he’s here. He’s telling the truth. She wouldn’t have made it without him. Neither of us would have. ”
Asbel doesn’t lower his sword, but his eyes drop to Serenya. Pale. Too still. Arms wrapped in fresh linen—her breathing shallow.
“Is she going to be alright?” he asks.
Dimitri finally turns away from them and kneels beside the fire. He lays her down gently and begins to unpack the supplies from her bag.
“I think she will be. But she needs a healer.”
“And what, you plan to just carry her out of here in the middle of the night?” Lioran demands.
“No,” Dimitri says. “We will stay here till morning. Rest. Then I will take her home.”
Something in my chest twists. I knew this was coming. Dimitri had made it clear. But the thought of her leaving now, of being taken out of my reach...
