“Never speak of the illustrious holy Saevrin in that tone again.”

  I gulped down at least ten remarks about him and the illustrious that sprang to mind like popcorn in a microwave.

  “Okay,” I said instead.

  “Let’s stop fighting.” My tone flattened as I held up both hands. “Can we talk like adults?” I kept my eyes on her, suspicious but calm. One priest peeked out from inside, saw us, and instantly vanished back behind the door.

  “Hope there won’t be a misunderstanding,” I muttered, shifting my weight. “I’m not trying to solo this dungeon.”

  The woman didn’t laugh. She didn’t even blink. “What was that ice?” she asked instead, rubbing her arm where I’d dodged her strike.

  “Magic,” I deadpanned.

  She didn’t appreciate the answer.

  “Now,” I continued, taking one careful step toward her, not aggressive, just enough to say I wasn’t scared, “if this is an interrogation, where’s your Dawn-Sworn?”

  “We don’t have one.” Her voice was clipped as she turned away and knocked on the wooden door behind her in a short, deliberate pattern. Then, without looking back, she shot back, “How do you know so much about us?”

  “So we’re exchanging questions now?” I tilted my head. “Fine. I read a book.”

  That made her pause. I walked forward slowly, keeping my hands open and away from my sides. No sudden movements.

  No magic.

  “But not just any book,” I added, softer now. “One from Rimelion. So again, how long have you existed? Like all of this?”

  A moment passed.

  Then the priest from earlier returned, cradling a roll of bandages. His eyes darted between us, then dropped with a sheepish bow.

  “I apologize on her behalf,” he said, voice tight with guilt. “She is…”

  I grinned, already filling in the blank. “New?” The woman didn’t answer. Just looked away, like an unruly student caught talking back to the teacher. “She’s a new to this role, isn’t she? But she is Votary.” Her eyes narrowed. But that flinch was all the confirmation I needed. I glanced at his robe next. “So are you.”

  He didn’t deny it. Just finished wrapping the bandage around her arm with practiced ease, then gave me a small, tired smile.

  “You said you read it in a book? That is… true.” He nodded, then motioned to the door. “Let’s take this conversation to a more pleasant environment.”

  “Finally, someone with a functioning brain.” I tried to keep it light. Joke landed halfway, he chuckled. She gave me a look that could strip label from whiskey.

  Half success. I’d take it.

  As the door opened and we stepped inside, he gestured dramatically. “Welcome to the Children of Gaia.”

  Okay, he was a bit theatrical, I could work with that, I was used to Riker after all.

  The interior hit like a breath of warm incense. The scent of aged wood, dried herbs, and something faintly metallic hung in the air.

  The walls were a canvas of reverence, painted murals of the old gods, their domains sprawled across the grain like whispers from Rimelion itself. Water, flame, wind, frost, roots and stone. Their iconography coiled through each image, pulled from in-game references so obscure it made me dizzy to recognize them here, in real life.

  Not a theme park.

  Real.

  Most of the room was taken up by a vast, sunken space carved into the floor like a reverse amphitheater. Rows of benches circled downward in wide concentric rings, enough seating for thousands, if packed. Every level seemed balanced with perfect symmetry, wood and stone blending so smoothly I couldn’t even spot the seams.

  And at the very bottom, on a simple round platform at the center of it all… “Tripower sceptre!” I blurted. I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out like someone yelling Shiny! in a loot drop.

  It hovered above the platform, rotating slowly, unnaturally still in the air as if gravity had politely stepped aside.

  And I felt it.

  The magic rolled off in waves, warm and buzzing across my skin like static in a thunderstorm, making the hairs on my arms rise. “Wow,” I whispered, my voice barely carrying. “Okay. That’s… definitely not normal.”

  “Sister,” the man beside me breathed, eyes wide with a reverence I couldn’t quite mirror, “you know of the scepter, too? That’s…” His words caught. “It’s our most sacred secret. Guarded. Hidden.” He looked at me again, stunned. “And yet you walk in as if you’ve read the ending of the book before we opened the first page.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  We stepped closer, down to the first ring of benches. The magic grew stronger with each step. My fingertips tingled. My chest felt too tight.

  “Told you a god sent me,” I said, flicking my eyes toward the woman. I said it light, a mock-lilt in my tone, but the edge was real. She didn’t meet my gaze. Whether that was guilt, anger, or pride on life support, I didn’t know. Didn’t care.

  Not right now.

  “And also,” I added, gesturing toward the staff, “these come in a set of three. Wait, how did it get here?”

  The priest gave a small, knowing smile and nodded, stopping just shy of the railing. “A few years ago, there was a surge,” he whispered. “A burst of divine energy. It brought relics, artifacts of the gods, into this world. Earth.”

  He sat down on one of the long, curved benches like he’d told this story a hundred times and still didn’t believe a word of it.

  I sat beside him, gaze still locked on the scepter. “So you built this place around it?” I tilted my head. “That’s some next-level interior design. And the government?” I added. “They made their little prison, right? To use the magic.”

  He let out a bitter, tired laugh. “You really do know everything.”

  I shook my head. “I wish. But it’s all a mess. Riker says one thing, gods say another, and half the time I’m working off manuals from a simulation.”

  Before he could answer, the woman stepped down and joined us, her tone cooled from earlier. “It wasn’t built,” she said flatly. “Not in the way you think.”

  She stared out at the platform, not at me. Her voice dropped to something quieter. “Our founder received a vision. They were told where to find the scepter, this scepter. He brought it here, and over years, energy gathered around it. A power that doesn’t belong to this world.”

  “And then?” I asked.

  She looked at me for a long second.

  “And then the gods came,” she said. “Led by the illustrious holy Saevrin,” her voice tightened just a little on the name, “and this place was made whole. Not built. Not raised.” She touched her chest lightly. “Brought into being.”

  “I apologize,” I told her, raising my hands in a half-hearted peace gesture. “Just… please don’t punch me again.” I looked up. “Saevrin? Buddy?” My voice cracked into a higher octave than I liked. “Little help?”

  Desperation doesn’t sound cool. Just saying.

  “Everything will get easier with you here!” I added, attempting a charming smile for the air. It came out more like a grimace.

  That did it.

  The man beside me flinched like I’d just torched the altar, and the woman’s fist curled so tight I could hear her beautiful glove strain.

  But then I felt it.

  Claws. Familiar, cold and careful, resting against my shoulder like a crow choosing its perch.

  “You call upon me so carelessly?” Saevrin’s voice echoed in the chamber, not loud, but vast. Deep and dry like dust stirred in an empty barrel. “Even gods grow weary of being beckoned. Tread carefully… lest I answer in full.”

  That broke them.

  They dropped like statues, tipping over, kneeling so fast it kicked dust off the stone. Prayer flooded the space instantly, a low chorus of words I didn’t know and probably shouldn’t repeat.

  I stayed upright.

  “That is why I refrain from stepping into your chaos unbidden,” Saevrin continued. “Hear me.” The air in the chamber shifted. “She is the First Child,” he declared. “The one who walks between realms. She shall brave the first Tvraelyngar Vaedriun, for her soul already leans into the veil. Half-bound. Half-born.”

  His gaze turned to me, burning straight through layers I hadn’t known I had. He held it long enough to make my skin prickle, then nodded once—

  —and vanished.

  Like a pulled curtain.

  Silence returned like a slap.

  I looked at the two figures still on the floor, praying like the world was about to end. Slowly, I blew out a breath and dusted imaginary ash from my dress.

  “Well.” I cleared my throat. “Told you he sent me.”

  The woman finally lifted her head, eyes wide and voice trembling like a snapped violin string. “I apologize for doubting you… what you said was true… I was wrong.”

  She sounded like she was three seconds away from ritual suicide.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said quickly, taking a step back. “Let’s dial it down before someone pulls out ceremonial daggers.”

  “Sister,” the priest asked, his tone shifting just a shade more gentle, “do you really want to brace the Tvraelyngar Vaedriun, fully knowing what it is? You are not…” He trailed off, then quickly bowed his head. “Sorry.”

  Yeah, he caught the look I gave him. The one that said careful now, before I make frost a personality trait again.

  The prayers finally stopped. I heard robes shift, sandals scrape, and they both straightened.

  “Yeah,” I said, voice flat. “I have to die to be reborn. I know what it means.” I crossed my arms and exhaled. “I have my own reasons, and apparently, my life is now in your hands, soooo…” I turned toward her. “Thank you? And sorry?”

  She smiled.

  I froze.

  No, no—she really smiled.

  It had that eerie calm that said she could poison my tea and make it a religious lesson. “You were correct,” she whispered. “And I was wrong.”

  I swallowed. “Uh… great.”

  My eyes flicked around the temple, searching for anything that looked like a comfy bed or a nearest exit or a vending machine. “So, what now? I mean, I want to get to Rimelion as fast as possible. How do we… do this?”

  The man gestured toward a long wooden corridor along the eastern wing. “We have a sacred preparation chamber. It is specially sanctified for such transitions. However…” He glanced at her, and she raised three fingers.

  “At least two days,” he said. “We must complete the rites, set the offerings, and consult the cycle of moons. You are welcome to stay until then.”

  What a nonsense way to say they need to read a book to learn the ritual. Won’t point it out, though.

  “Here?” I repeated, doing a slow turn like I was scanning for a hotel buffet or literally any plumbing. “Or…?”

  “We have many meditation rooms,” he offered with a warm smile.

  I smiled right back and shook my head like a polite hostage. “Yeah, no thanks.”

  The woman stepped forward again. “Our meals are humble but nourishing. We eat porridge. It is very filling.”

  I took a cautious half-step back. “Do you… put seasoning in it?”

  “Sometimes we bless it,” she said brightly.

  “At dusk, sister. Would you like me to accompany you to the surface?”

  I shook my head. “No need. I know the way. Probably better than you.” The words were out before I could throttle them. Yup. That was me. Just casually snarling at the people about to literally kill me and hopefully resurrect me after.

  Before I could dig the hole deeper, I gave a quick wave and turned. “So… see you later?”

  They both bowed low. “Thank you, sister.”

  They didn’t move. Just stayed there, heads bowed, like I was holy scripture in motion. Which was creepy. I bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time, because walking calmly would’ve felt way too culty.

  Once outside, the temple grounds were still unnervingly serene. No wind. No birds. Just the faint sound of sandals on packed dirt and the scent of wood-smoke and incense that clung to the whole place like guilt.

  I didn’t hesitate. I took the straightest path toward the gate. Past altars, that suspiciously perfect meadow, and a priest who gave me a respectful nod as we passed like we were coworkers on break. I nodded back, because apparently I was part of the death-cult family now.

  And honestly?

  I kinda did belong. Not to them, exactly. But I had a purpose now. A role. A direction. Which was more than I’d had yesterday.

  I reached the airlock, exhaled, and stared at the heavy door.

  “Hope Jerry’s okay,” I muttered, pressing my palm to the sensor.