Niryn walked ahead of me, leading the way in easy silence. We descended the stone steps of the temple's eastern wing, where thick tree roots intertwined with the architecture itself. The leaves formed a canopy that filtered the light in shades of green and gold, and the air, saturated with moisture, carried the earthy scent of ancient moss, bitter flowers, and living wood. Insects buzzed sluggishly in the thick air. The path turned to slime-covered flagstones as we approached.
We walked along a dark stone road, where tiny grooves let the mana from the ground pulse in runic patterns. It was as if the very floor of the sect was breathing—every step reverberated with something ancient and patient. Niryn didn't say a word the entire way, but her gaze kept moving ahead, intent.
So finally we arrived at the accommodation.
It stood among ancient trunks, with walls of volcanic stone covered in dense moss. The sloping roof was made of dark wood entwined with dried vines, supported by columns where carved faces with expressions of pain and ecstasy watched in silence. It was a living structure, partially devoured by nature, but firm as a sacred skeleton. One of the altar boys on guard bowed when he saw me.
"I greet the Host," he said.
I just nodded. My presence spoke for itself.
I pushed open the heavy doors, which creaked as if waking from a long sleep. The entrance hall was large, silent, and filled with dense air. Carved pillars depicted scenes of ancient rituals, circular dances, offerings…and more. The polished stone floor was tiled in ochre and rust, forming circular patterns that seemed to swirl subtly, like hypnotic eyes.
Ceramic censers burned something bitter—living tree resin and bone powder. Smoke rose slowly, forming veils between the columns.
I turned to Niryn and Nora.
"Stay outside."
They both looked at me for a brief second. Niryn hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly, but a single glance from me was enough to make her back away. They both left without a word, and the door closed behind me with a dull thud.
I sighed. I took off my cloak and hung it on the wooden coat rack by the entrance. The wood was warm to the touch, as if it had absorbed my body heat.
I need allies... strong, smart, loyal. Someone worth protecting—or using.
I closed my eyes and activated my mana vision. It was like immersing my gaze in a second world: veins of light, streams of energy, spiritual flickers, and pulses of essence. The air became a living tapestry.
I opened my eyes.
I saw faint lines in the air. Some were faint, almost erased. Others were more vibrant—pulsing, but unstable. I began my search.
I went to the door on the left. I opened it slowly.
Inside, a group of children and teenagers stared at me. Their eyes, wide open, went from strangeness to fear. I assessed their bodies—fragile, malnourished. None of them had a formed nucleus. I closed the door.
I went to the door on the right.
There, an older group. Some teenagers already trained. Better postures. Their bodies were stronger and better trained. Two or three almost forming the nucleus. But... it still wasn't enough. Useful? Maybe . But not now.
My eyes drifted to the staircase. The dark wooden structure creaked softly beneath my footsteps as I ascended. The walls here were covered in rough tapestries—unknown constellations, drawn eyes, spirals repeated like a silent prayer.
And when we reached the top of the stairs, bamboo partitions separated the bedrooms. Hammocks hung between beams. Stone chests served as closets. There was something tribal about it, but not primitive. It was a functional dwelling... and full of discipline.
The light filtering through the leaves outside created moving shadows on the ground.
Climbing the creaking stairs to the first floor, I continued exploring the stuffy corridors of the barracks. The air was drier here, tinged with old resin, faded ink, and dust from old parchment. Bamboo partitions opened onto small, empty rooms and nooks, but soon something caught my eye.
At the end of a darker hallway, lined with faded tapestries of constellations and intertwined roots, was a half-open door. Above it, a crude sign read: " Library ."
My instincts whispered that there was... something there that could be good.
I pushed the door.
The scent that escaped was of damp wood, old leather, and a hint of incense that had been extinguished hours ago. The atmosphere was dense, but not oppressive. On the contrary — there was something relaxing about it. A place where time seemed to slow down. The shelves rose to the ceiling like the walls of a labyrinth of knowledge, loaded with books with worn covers, parchments sealed with wax, and small bottles with labels indicating what they were.
I walked slowly between the shelves. Footsteps echoing in the silence cushioned by the walls. And that's when I saw her.
Sitting alone at a table in a corner of the library, bathed in the soft light of an oil lantern hanging overhead, was a girl. Small, no more than twelve or thirteen—she looked as if she were made of porcelain as a doll. Her hair was a pale, almost white blonde, and curled to her shoulders, and her skin was a startling white, as if it had never been touched by the sun.
She wore a simple white dress, embroidered with red flowers on the edges, the perfect contrast between delicacy. But what struck me most was her... absence. She exuded no presence at all. There was no flow of mana.
I approached, curious. When I pulled out the chair in front of him, his eyes slowly lifted.
His eyes were a pale, opaque blue.
She watched me in silence for a few seconds. And when she noticed my clothes, the mark of the knot on the brooch, she started to stand up—perhaps to bow. But I raised my hand and stopped her.
"It's okay," I said. "You can stay seated. I just want to talk."
There was a slight frown—not exactly suspicion, more... surprise.
He obeyed, sitting down again, his posture impeccable but uncomfortable. Still, his eyes wouldn't leave me.
I gave a slight smile. "Nice to meet you. My name is Arthur Morgan. And you?"
She hesitated. Her lips moved slowly, as if she was considering her own voice.
"The pleasure is mine... Arthur. My name is Elizabeth."
His voice was low and precise, like reading a name on an epitaph.
I tilted my head slightly. "You know who I am, don't you?"
She nodded with a subtle movement.
"Perfect. I imagine you've also heard about the test that's going to happen soon... right?"
His brow furrowed, and a shadow of confusion crossed his face. "Test?"
That took me by surprise.
"You... don't know?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows.
Elizabeth shook her head, and I could see the truth in her eyes. Genuine confusion.
So that's it. Nobody knows. Only I was warned in advance. Maybe it's a way to get ahead of them.
I sat back in my chair, thinking. This changes everything. Perhaps it would be easier to form an alliance with this—to offer information in exchange for loyalty.
I smiled again. "Do you want me to explain?"
Elizabeth looked at me for long seconds, assessing. Her eyes were not naive. There was calculation there.
"Why would you tell me that for free?" he asked bluntly.
"Because I want to form an alliance," I replied. "You seem… special to me. It's rare for someone to be able to completely hide their presence in this place. It takes control—or talent."
She didn't answer right away. Her expression remained neutral, but something in her posture changed. She was considering. Reflecting. The silence between us stretched.
I waited. If I were smart, I wouldn't answer right away and would think about what I said. And she was.
Several minutes passed before Elizabeth looked up at me again. Her cold, ancient blue eyes fixed on mine as if studying me—and then, finally, she spoke:
"I accept the alliance. But first... I want to know everything about this test."
Smile.
"Sure. I'll tell you everything I know."
I paused briefly, letting the weight of the words sink in before I let them out.
"Look... I don't know everything," I said, my voice calm. "But what I do know is enough to worry anyone."
Elizabeth kept her eyes fixed on mine.
"In two months," I continued, "all the newcomers to the sect—all the newcomers, like us—will be taken to a cave. A survival test. We will be left there for six months. No help. No way out. Just survival."
Her pupils contracted subtly. The spark of reasoning flared up again, and it was as if one could see the gears working in her mind. After a few seconds, she finally asked:
"So that's why you want allies? To survive this test?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Couldn't you do it alone?"
I gave a slight smile at the corner of my lips, but didn't respond immediately.
"Yeah... maybe I could."
"But?" She tilted her body slightly, her eyes fixed on mine.
My face hardened.
The air seemed to weigh a little more around me, the atmosphere changed, becoming more serious and cold. And she felt it.
"Tell me, Elizabeth," I said, my voice lower. "Do you like the cult?"
She frowned.
"Do you like being treated like an experiment? Like a rat in a temple of fanatics?"
Her silence spoke before the words.
"No," he finally replied, his voice firm. "I don't like it."
I nodded, crossing my arms.
"Neither do I. Even with the privileged position they gave me... it doesn't mean I belong there. I don't kid myself. I know I'm valuable to them now. But one day... I might just be another guinea pig, like everyone else."
Elizabeth clenched her fists on the table. Her fragile, doll-like composure was beginning to crack at the edges.
"That's why I want allies," I continued. "People who share this vision. Who also want to get out of here. To escape. Or… at the very least, to survive with freedom of choice."
I stood in silence, watching as she absorbed each word. Her face wavered between doubt and understanding. Until finally, she spoke.
"If that's the case... then our partnership can last a long time."
She smiled.
It was light, understated — but true.
"And what's more," he continued, his eyes now shining with a spark of intent. "I think I know exactly who we can recruit."
There was something in her tone... something determined. As if she had planned this herself at some point—but had only now found the right catalyst.
I returned his smile with one of my own. One that wasn't cynical or calculated. Just... pleased.
"So it looks like our alliance is off to a good start."