The temple's silence was suffocating.
A soft wind whispered through the shattered arches, stirring the golden dust coating the once-pristine floor. Moonlight fell in fractured beams, filtering through the jagged remains of stained-glass windows. The remnants of an ancient battle still clung to the air like smoke, and Elara stepped carefully through the ruin, her boots disturbing the fine dust with each step.
Behind her, Kael was unnaturally quiet.
They had not spoken much since the confrontation with the Aetherborn in the cavern—a memory still raw and smoldering within her. Elara couldn't shake the image of Kael standing there, his blade raised against someone who looked so much like her. Even now, her fingers curled into fists at the thought.
"You knew she looked like me," Elara said at last, her voice thin and tight. "And you still didn't hesitate."
Kael stopped walking. The torchlight in his hand flickered, dancing shadows across the high, crumbling walls. "I hesitated," he said quietly. "You just didn't see it."
She turned on him, brown eyes narrowed. "She could have been—"
"She wasn't you," Kael interrupted. "And if I had waited longer, we'd both be dead."
Silence again. Tense, brittle. The kind that made your lungs feel like they were filled with glass.
Elara turned away, swallowing her anger. She didn't know what hurt more—his actions, or the part of her that knew he was probably right.
They continued walking until the corridor opened up into what must have once been the main sanctum. The remnants of a grand statue stood in the center—a goddess with wings outstretched, her marble face cracked but serene. Around her, fragments of ancient texts lay scattered in forgotten tongues.
Elara approached one of the fallen scrolls and crouched down, brushing away debris. Glyphs shimmered faintly on the parchment, not ink but magic, still glowing centuries after their creators had vanished.
"These symbols," she murmured, tracing a finger over them. "They match the ones from the map we found in Vel'tharyn."
Kael crouched beside her, studying the scroll with a furrowed brow. "Another clue?"
"More than that. A direction." Her eyes lit up, something fierce and alive sparking behind them. "This temple—it's not the final gate. It's a key."
Kael exhaled slowly, as if something heavy had just been confirmed. "Then we're close."
"Closer than we've ever been."
They stood, eyes locked, tension hanging in the space between them. Not just from the mission. Not just from the weight of prophecy. But from everything unspoken—trust, betrayal, and the feeling that something far more dangerous was growing between them.
Later that night, they made camp within the temple walls. The stars outside gleamed cold and bright, unburdened by the ruins below. Elara sat with her back against a column, the heat of the fire warming only one side of her face. She stared into the flames, but her thoughts were far from the flickering light.
Kael approached with two mugs of tea he'd brewed from the foraged leaves nearby. He offered her one.
She accepted it without looking at him. "You don't have to keep trying," she said softly.
Kael didn't sit immediately. He stood across the fire, his gaze fixed on her. "Trying what?"
"To fix this. To fix... me."
His voice was quiet, firm. "I'm not trying to fix you."
She finally looked up, eyes rimmed with exhaustion and something deeper—doubt, perhaps. "Then what are you doing?"
He hesitated, and for once, Kael seemed unsure of himself. "Trying not to lose you."
The words hit harder than Elara expected. Her breath caught, and she looked away, blinking furiously. Damn him.
Kael moved around the fire and sat beside her, not too close, but not far either.
"Back in the cavern," he said after a moment, "I didn't see your face on that creature. I saw what you've become to me. Something worth protecting, even if it means doing the hard thing."
Elara stared into her mug. Steam curled up between her fingers. "I don't need protecting."
"No," Kael agreed. "But maybe... I do."
She turned to him, startled. "What?"
His voice lowered, the kind of voice meant only for two ears. "I've been in control all my life. Always knew the mission. Always knew where the lines were. But you... You blur everything."
She didn't speak. Couldn't. Her heart thundered, but it was a quiet chaos.
"You scare me," Kael admitted. "Not because of your power, or the prophecy. But because I care. And I don't know how to do this with you and still stay who I was."
Elara's chest tightened, the ache unfamiliar. She hated how much those words meant to her.
"I don't know how to be anything else," she whispered.
Kael leaned in, just enough for his shoulder to brush hers. "Then maybe we figure it out together."
That night, she dreamed again.
This time, the vision was clearer.
She stood in a hall of mirrors, each one showing a different version of herself—some regal and fierce, others broken and bloodied. One showed her with a crown of fire. Another showed her kneeling before a black throne.
In every reflection, Kael was nearby. Sometimes at her side. Sometimes behind her. Sometimes... not there at all.
The last mirror showed her alone, her eyes glowing with cosmic energy, her mouth open in a silent scream. The power consuming her.
She reached out—and the mirror shattered.
Elara awoke with a gasp, sweat chilling her spine. The fire had dimmed to embers. Kael lay nearby, eyes closed, breathing slow and even.
She rose silently and walked toward the statue of the goddess again. The moonlight bathed it in silver, and for a moment, Elara felt the weight of destiny settle on her shoulders like a cloak of frost.
"I don't want to become her," she murmured. "The version of me that burns everything just to stay in control."
The statue, of course, said nothing.
But somewhere deep inside, something stirred.
A memory. A warning. A promise.
She would not be consumed.
Back at the campfire, Kael's eyes opened.
He had not been sleeping.
And in the shadows beyond the ruins, something was watching them.
Waiting.