The city didn't sleep that night.
Word of the temple's transformation spread like wildfire—whispers trailing through merchant stalls, floating into wine dens, dripping into noble homes where curiosity bloomed like sin in the dark. Some called it heresy. Others called it awakening. But no one could ignore the way the temple's windows glowed red through the night, flickering like a living thing. And those closest to the great stone walls swore they could hear chanting—not holy verses, but moans, wet and rhythmic, like the city's heart had changed its beat.
