Team Effort

The temple stood as they had left it, silent and untouched by time. Moonlight filtered through the broken dome, casting silver pools across the marble floor. The air was thick with the scent of ancient stone and forgotten prayers, heavy with a presence neither welcoming nor hostile.

Aldric exhaled, brushing his fingers along one of the carved pillars as they passed. This place should have felt like a sanctuary, but something about the stillness gnawed at him.

Lysara didn't hesitate. The moment they stepped inside, she moved with purpose, her bare feet light against the marble. She didn't pause to take in their surroundings or rest after the long journey. Instead, she strode directly to the shrine room, her silver eyes sharp with determination.

Aldric followed, his own exhaustion making every step feel heavier.

The chamber was just as they had left it—thirteen shrines, each dedicated to a god of the old pantheon, encircling the great central altar of the Prime. The constellations on the ceiling shimmered faintly, their divine glow a fraction of what it must have once been.

Lysara knelt before the Prime's altar, her hands pressed together as she bowed her head.

She prayed.

Minutes passed. The silence stretched.

Nothing happened.

Aldric watched as her shoulders tensed, her fingers tightening against each other. Her lips moved faster now, whispering prayers in the old tongue, but the room remained unchanged. No warmth. No presence. No response.

Lysara's breath hitched. She tried again.

And again.

Still, nothing.

Aldric stepped closer. "Lysara—"

She stood abruptly, her fists clenched at her sides, her scales flashing an uneasy shade of deep blue. "She isn't listening," she said, voice tight.

Aldric hesitated. "Maybe She just—"

"She always listens," Lysara snapped. "Even in the Veil, even when I had nothing, She was there."

Aldric had never seen her like this—panicked. Lysara never panicked. She always had an answer, a sharp retort, an unwavering plan. But now, she looked… lost.

She turned away, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I don't know what to do."

Aldric stepped forward cautiously. "We'll figure it out."

Lysara let out a bitter laugh. "You don't understand."

She rubbed her arms, her fingers restless against her own skin. Her usual composure cracked, revealing something raw beneath.

"In the Veil, I was nothing," she admitted, voice quiet. "The lowest of the low. I was never a leader. I was never responsible for anything. I followed orders. I healed wounds. That was it."

She turned to him then, and for the first time, Aldric saw fear in her eyes—not of battle, not of death, but of something deeper.

"I've been trying to copy what I saw the others do," she continued, her voice shaking. "Trying to be what they were. But nothing has gone the way it was supposed to. The battle in Vadore, the Dark Templar, the Prime not answering—I don't know how to carry this."

Aldric didn't answer immediately. He stepped forward instead, reaching for her hands. She let him take them, though her fingers trembled slightly in his grasp.

"We're a team," he said, his voice steady. "You don't have to figure this out alone."

A flicker of uncertain silver rippled across her scales before fading back to blue.

Aldric held firm. "You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to carry everything by yourself. We'll handle it together. We'll find a way forward together."

For a moment, she didn't say anything. Then, slowly, she exhaled, her shoulders easing just slightly.

Aldric hesitated only briefly before pulling her into an embrace. She didn't resist, her forehead resting against his shoulder.

She let out a quiet laugh. "You're annoyingly good at this, you know that?"

Aldric smirked. "It's a skill."

Lysara sighed against him. "Alright. Team effort."

He nodded. "Team effort."

---

Aldric ran his fingers over the sacred bark, it's surface smooth yet impossibly firm, as if it had been petrified by faith itself. He turned it in his hands, frowning. "I doubt we can turn this into paper the traditional way."

Lysara leaned against the central altar, arms crossed. "That would be because it's not meant to be made the traditional way."

Aldric exhaled, shaking his head. "Then how?"

Lysara glanced at the ink and scriptures spread before them. "If we had a divine craftsman, they'd know."

Aldric sighed. "Sun-King Sol's followers."

Lysara nodded. "Crafters. Artisans. They shape divine materials, forge weapons of faith, and weave celestial cloth. If anyone knew how to refine holy bark into something usable, it would be them."

Aldric ran a hand through his hair. "And the only sect of Sol is in the mountains."

The Wall.

A jagged divide to the north, marking the edge of the known world for most lowlanders. Beyond it, in the harsh peaks, dwelled the Believers of the Stars, worshippers of Caelus, Sol, and Luna. Not many travelled there unless they had to. The Wall was as much a natural defence as it was a border between faiths.

But if there were any followers of Sol who could help them, that's where they would be.

Lysara sighed. "We might not need to go that far."

She turned toward Sol's shrine, stepping up to its golden altar. The Sun-King, patron of craftsmen and warriors alike, was known for guiding those who sought to create, not just destroy. If any god would answer their questions, it would be him.

Lysara knelt, palms pressed together. She whispered a prayer in the old tongue, the words flowing smoothly, instinctual.

Silence.

She tried again.

Nothing.

Aldric felt the tension roll off her as she clenched her fists.

"They're still not answering," she muttered.

Aldric frowned. "It's not just the Prime, then?"

Lysara shook her head, her expression dark. "It's as if something is blocking their connection to the void."

Aldric didn't like the sound of that. Divine silence wasn't natural—unless something was interfering with it.

Lysara pushed herself to her feet, scowling. "If the gods won't answer, then what the hell are we supposed to do?"

Aldric didn't respond immediately. He stared at the artifacts before them, the puzzle of it all hanging heavy over his mind.

Then he remembered something.

"A blade cannot carve its own path, but a heart that listens will never be lost."

Sir Danton's words. He had spoken them many times, always when things seemed most uncertain.

Aldric had always struggled to understand them—until now.

He turned to Lysara. "We stop waiting for the gods to show us the way. We trust ourselves. We follow what feels right, not what we're told should be."

Lysara raised an eyebrow her scales glowing slightly. "And where's that?"

He met her gaze. "The Wall."

Lysara blinked, surprised. "You think the Believers of the Stars will help us?"

"I don't know," Aldric admitted. "But I know that's where the gods of the sky, sun, and moon are strongest. If any sect still has a connection to the divine, it's them."

Lysara exhaled slowly, processing.

"We have no idea what's waiting for us there, they aren't the most open-minded of sects" she pointed out.

Aldric nodded. "I know."

A pause. Then, her lips quirked into a half-smile, weary but genuine. "Well, at least it's not another underwater city."

Aldric chuckled. "I'll take a frozen mountaintop over drowning any day."

Lysara's scales flickered faint silver before settling. She reached for her pack. "Then we'd better start moving. If the gods won't guide us, we'll just have to do it ourselves."

Aldric picked up the sacred materials, securing them carefully.

They had a long journey ahead.

---

The temple was behind them now, its ancient walls fading into the trees as they set out into the wild. But ahead, the path was far from clear.

There was no easy way to reach the Wall. No hidden roads, no safe passage. The land between them and the northern mountains was Karnaxian-controlled territory. A landscape fractured by war, crawling with enemy patrols and deserters, some of whom were as dangerous as the army they once served.

And they had little to survive on.

Aldric adjusted the weight of his pack, mentally taking stock of their supplies. Limited rations. No money. Only the gear on their backs and whatever Mother's gifts Lysara could forage from the land.

Not ideal.

Lysara, walking beside him, kept her gaze forward, unreadable. "What's the plan?"

Aldric hesitated before answering. "We stay away from the city. Karnaxians would have full control there. Instead, we'll aim for the smaller villages, see if we can find supplies. Maybe someone willing to trade."

Lysara nodded without hesitation. "Your call. You know the land better than I do."

Aldric glanced at her. She had never hesitated to challenge him in training, never shied away from giving her opinion in battle. But now? She was leaving the operational decisions to him without question.

"You sure you want to leave it all to me?" he asked.

Lysara smirked faintly, her silver eyes flicking toward him. "Team effort, right?"

Fair enough.

With that settled, they set their course for the first destination—a nameless village, no more than a collection of homes, a few days' hike from the temple. If they were lucky, the Karnaxians hadn't bothered to occupy it. If not… well, they'd deal with that when they got there.

The journey had been slow. They kept to the lesser-travelled paths, moving carefully, watching for patrols. Aldric relied on his knowledge of the terrain, leading them through dense forests and old hunting trails, ensuring they never stayed in the open longer than necessary.

But it was Lysara who made sure they weren't walking into something worse.

As they approached the village, she stopped abruptly, her head tilting slightly. Her scales shimmered a muted blue, shifting faintly as she inhaled deeply.

Aldric waited, knowing better than to interrupt.

After a moment, she exhaled. "No corruption."

Aldric let out a breath of relief.

Lysara's senses had already saved them once—two days prior, she had caught the scent of something wrong near a dried riverbed. They had gone wide around it, later spotting a Karnaxian scouting party dragging off a group of prisoners. If they had walked straight into it… well, they wouldn't be standing here now.

But this village, at least, seemed clean.

They continued forward.

The village itself was little more than a scattering of wooden houses nestled against the edge of a field. Smoke rose from a few chimneys, and children ran barefoot through the dirt paths, their laughter a stark contrast to the weight Aldric carried in his chest.

As they walked into view, the first of the villagers spotted them.

And everything stopped.

Aldric had seen it before—the way wary eyes darted to his now useless sword, how hands hesitated between waving in greeting or reaching for tools that could be used as weapons.

But this time, it wasn't him they were staring at.

It was Lysara.

Murmurs spread, hushed and anxious. Some villagers backed away. Others stood frozen, their eyes wide with barely contained fear. A few of the men shifted toward what might have been an old militia armory—a clear move to defend themselves if needed.

Then came the first whisper.

"Corrupted."

Aldric's jaw tightened.

A woman clutched a small child to her chest, shielding them behind her skirt. An older man, perhaps the village leader, narrowed his eyes, stepping forward with forced composure.

"What manner of beast is that?" he demanded, eyes locked on Lysara.

Lysara tensed beside Aldric.

She wasn't stupid. She knew how she looked. Scaled, blue-skinned with silver eyes that caught the light, her appearance was too alien, too close to something unnatural for most common folk. To them, anything strange could only mean one thing—corruption.

Aldric stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "She's not corrupted. She's Lightborn."

The villagers murmured among themselves, unsure whether that was better or worse.

The old man squinted at them. "And what does a so-called Lightborn and a wandering knight want with us?"

Aldric knew how this went. Fear made people irrational. If he handled this wrong, they'd either be run out or attacked.

He kept his tone even. "Shelter, for a night. Maybe some food, if there's any to spare. We're just passing through."

More muttering.

Aldric took the opportunity. "We'll work for it, if necessary."

The village leader studied them for a long moment before finally nodding. "No trouble," he warned.

Aldric nodded back. "No trouble."

The villagers hesitated, still uneasy, but the old man's word seemed enough to keep them from chasing them out immediately.

As the tension slowly dispersed, Lysara muttered under her breath. "If one more person calls me a beast, I'm going to—"

Aldric elbowed her lightly. "Try not to make our hosts more nervous than they already are."

Lysara huffed but didn't argue.

They had a place to stay. For now, that was enough.