Chapter 20: Echoes in the Broken Temple

The temple breathed.

Not like a living thing—but like a place that remembered being alive.

Dust danced in the fractured light that filtered through the broken ceiling. Stone arches leaned like old warriors, cracked and slouched under time's weight. Faint runes glowed along the shattered walls—some flickering, others pulsing like half-healed wounds.

Rael stepped forward, cloak rustling faintly. The black-and-gold mantle left behind by their unseen visitor still lay where Aelthaea had found it.

It was warm when touched. Now, it was growing cold.

"He was watching," Caelaris muttered. "Whoever he was."

"Or she," Selene added, scanning the pillars. "This place stinks of divine essence."

Aelthaea stood at the far end of the chamber, eyes narrowed. "We're not in a temple. Not truly. This was… something else. An unmaking."

Nyssira was silent. Her fingers brushed a wall covered in fractured script. She whispered to herself—too quiet for the others to hear.

Rael's hand hovered near the hilt of his blade.

Every step into the chamber felt like descending into a forgotten thought. Something slumbered here—not a being, but an echo. A memory that had waited for someone like him to return.

He moved deeper.

The air grew colder.

They found the first echo near the altar.

It wasn't a body. It wasn't a person.

It was a moment—suspended in stone.

A scorch mark curled across the floor in a spiral, leading to a shattered dais. Embedded in the spiral were fragments of obsidian glass, each one reflecting something different—a star, a face, a cry, a battlefield, a child's laughter.

Rael knelt.

As his fingers touched the glass, the world tilted.

He didn't fall.

He remembered.

He stood in the same temple.

But it was whole.

The roof unbroken. The runes shining. Statues of strange gods lined the walls—none he recognized. A chorus sang in a language he could not understand, and at the center, a woman stood cloaked in silver and violet flame.

Her face was shadowed, but her presence was undeniable.

Hel.

She turned—and though he could not see her eyes, he knew she saw him.

"You're late," she said softly.

Rael opened his mouth to speak—but the vision didn't end.

She stepped forward, barefoot, robes brushing the ground like mist.

When she lifted her hand, the ceiling shattered.

Stars fell.

Blood rained.

And her voice whispered inside his skull.

"You were not meant to walk the world alone. But those who kneel beside you… will burn or rise."

He gasped back into the present, staggered.

Selene caught him, hand firm on his arm.

"What did you see?" she asked.

Rael didn't answer at first. He stared at the obsidian fragments.

"A warning. A promise. Both."

Her hand lingered on his arm, then slowly slid away.

Aelthaea stood nearby. "The temple is bleeding. It's leaking what it tried to bury."

Nyssira finally spoke. "Then we need to find the wound."

They moved deeper into the ruin.

The corridor ahead sloped downward—unmapped, unlit. The walls trembled occasionally, like stone trying to remember how to be solid.

They passed murals half-carved, depicting a woman rising from water, wrapped in serpents. Her eyes were stitched shut in one panel. In the next, she held a sword of black fire. In the last, she stood alone—no gods beside her, only shadows and broken crowns beneath her feet.

"She never had a throne," Nyssira murmured. "Only a path."

Rael's fingers traced the final carving.

"She walks it still."

Far below, they found the source.

A chamber without shape.

Its walls shifted when you looked away.

A broken altar floated in the center, suspended by threads of memory and forgotten prayers. Around it, four crystal obelisks pulsed with red light—each cracked, as if barely holding something back.

And in the center of the altar, engraved in spiraling runes, was a single word.

RAEL.

Selene's voice was soft. "That's your name."

He stared at it.

"I haven't told anyone how it's spelled."

Aelthaea raised her blade. "We're not alone."

The room responded.

A gust of air swept through the chamber—not wind, but breath.

And then—

It appeared.

Not a person.

Not a god.

A fragment.

A cloaked figure, hollow-eyed and drifting above the altar. Its robes fluttered as though underwater. Its voice echoed through them, though its mouth did not move.

"You are not yet forged. The Path is not yet sealed."

Rael stepped forward. "Who are you?"

"An echo. One of the twelve. Bound here when the gods sundered the womb."

"The womb…" Nyssira's eyes widened. "They meant Hel."

"She was not mother. She was not queen. She was beginning. They feared beginning."

Rael narrowed his gaze. "Why is my name here?"

"Because it will end where it began. As it always does."

The figure raised an arm.

The altar beneath it pulsed—and a vision poured forth.

Rael saw a battlefield.He stood atop a mountain of god-blood.Selene was at his side, her eyes no longer playful—burning, sharp, hardened.Nyssira stood veiled in vines, lips parted in whispered prayer, her body wrapped in divine sigils.Aelthaea wielded two swords, her armor cracked, but her gaze defiant.Caelaris… kneeling, shield broken, her eyes fixed only on him.

And across from them… Hel.

Not waiting.

Smiling.

Her voice cut through the air like silk through flesh.

"Then come, Consort of Ends. Show me how it ends again."

Rael gasped, falling to his knees.

Selene was there again—hands on both shoulders now, grounding him.

"You're burning up," she whispered. Her hands slid to his jaw, cupping his face gently. "Hey. Stay with me."

Their eyes met.

And something held there—longer than before.

"I'm with you," he said hoarsely.

And for a moment… they didn't move.

The altar pulsed one last time.

And in its place remained a seed—black, glossy, shot through with veins of gold.

Rael rose and took it.

It was warm. Alive.

"It's from her," Selene murmured.

"I don't know," Rael said. "But it's mine now."

They left the chamber behind.

The sun—or something like it—was bleeding across the ruin as they emerged. Wind swirled between broken arches.

The others moved ahead, quietly discussing their next course.

But Selene remained behind with Rael.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

And the tension between them—unspoken for so long—finally cracked.

Selene stepped close.

Very close.

"You've changed again," she said, voice barely above a breath.

Rael's voice was low. "You always say that."

"Because you do."

She reached up and brushed her fingers across his jaw. "But this time… you came back different."

Rael didn't step away.

Instead, he caught her hand.

"I saw you," he said.

She blinked. "In the vision?"

"You were by my side. You always are."

Selene's smirk faded.

"Say that again," she whispered.

"You're always with me."

She pulled him closer by the collar.

And kissed him.

It wasn't gentle.

It was heat, and hunger, and all the moments they'd brushed past one another pretending not to want more.

Her hands slid into his hair.

His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

She broke the kiss just enough to whisper, "You're going to ruin me, Rael."

He touched his forehead to hers.

"I already have."

Her lips found his again, slower now, a teasing drag that promised more.

But from the distance, footsteps echoed.

They broke apart—barely.

Nyssira stood watching, quiet, unreadable.

Selene straightened, but didn't move away.

Rael met Nyssira's eyes.

She said nothing.

Only turned and walked away, her presence like smoke on the wind.

Later, as the group camped outside the ruin, Rael sat alone again.

The seed lay in his palm.

Its heartbeat matched his own.

He didn't know if it was a weapon, a key, or something more dangerous.

But for the first time… it didn't matter.

Because he would decide what it became.

And those who stood with him—Selene, Nyssira, Aelthaea, Caelaris—they were no longer just followers.

They were becoming something more.

And soon, the world would see.