Queen's trial #2

As Camilla advanced beyond the sixtieth step, the tremors beneath her feet grew less frequent, but her body remained tense, ready to react at the slightest shift. The silence around her was deafening, broken only by the soft rustle of her shortened gown and the sound of her breath, which had grown shallower from the climb.

The sun, now climbing steadily across the sky, cast long shadows over the staircase. She shielded her eyes for a moment, noting how high she still had to go. The temple loomed distantly above her, its white stone barely visible through the low-hanging clouds that hugged the mountain’s upper peaks.

Then the air changed again.

A sharp gust of wind cut through the corridor of stairs, chilling her skin and sending goosebumps along her arms. She paused. The wind wasn’t natural—she could feel it. It carried a pulse, almost like breath. It was alive.