In the morning mist that clung to the mountain's shoulders like a grey cloak, the world was unnervingly quiet. The three of them stood at the cliff's edge, gazing down at the winding path that disappeared into the folds of the Askara Mountains—a place not found on any map, and spoken of only in hushed tones.
Leah, a northern tribeswoman and master of the bow, could read the wind and earth like an open book.
Kenzar, a young mage from the Tower of Midrant, whose power had nearly destroyed an entire city when he was still a child.
Illea, a quiet girl from a forgotten village, whose eyes held something ancient—something unexplainable.
They did not come for the same reason, and yet fate had led them to the same place—The Temple of Arantheia, hidden within sheer cliffs. Legends whispered of a spirit dwelling within… "the Soul of Time."
> "We all have a past we wish we could change… don't we?" Leah said softly, her gaze fixed on the path that vanished into the trees.
"Not every past should be touched," Kenzar replied, his fingers tightening on his enchanted staff.
"This temple… it's not for those seeking answers," Illea spoke for the first time in hours, her eyes unwavering.
"It's for those brave enough to face what's hidden inside themselves."
A wind chime rang out from somewhere unseen—despite the still air. And as the first step fell upon the sacred earth, that sound followed them into the deep.
"This temple… it's not for those seeking answers," Illea spoke for the first time in hours, her voice low but cutting through the thick silence. Her eyes, sharp and unwavering, scanned the intricate carvings on the stone walls—symbols that seemed to shift slightly under the flickering torchlight. "It's for those brave enough to face what's hidden inside themselves."
The air around them felt heavier with every word, dense with the scent of aged incense and cold stone. Shadows twisted unnaturally, as if alive, responding to the rhythm of their heartbeat.
A wind chime rang out from somewhere unseen—its delicate tinkle breaking the silence, though no breeze stirred the still air. The sound lingered unnervingly, echoing against the ancient walls like a warning.
As the first step fell upon the sacred earth, the sound seemed to follow them, reverberating beneath their feet and up their spine. Each step drew them deeper into the temple's heart, where darkness pooled in the corners and the faint glimmer of carved sigils offered both guidance and forewarning.
The torchlight flickered against a fresco of entwined figures, their eyes hollow, their expressions caught between ecstasy and agony. Illea's gaze lingered on them for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and in that moment, it felt as if the temple itself was watching, judging, testing the courage they carried within.
Every footfall sent a subtle vibration through the ancient stone floor, a reminder that this place was alive—not in the way of breathing beings, but in the sense that it mirrored the fears, regrets, and hidden desires of those who dared enter. And for the first time, the group understood that this journey was not outward—it was inward, into the very shadows of their souls.