CHAPTER 8

[THE INAUGURATION OF HOLY TEMPLE]

RUSHRICH [The realm Of Witches]

The air in Queen Philodolferin's study was thick with the scent of ancient scrolls and burning lavender incense. The tall windows allowed slivers of misty afternoon light to cut across the deep maroon and gold of the chamber, casting long shadows on the ornate carpet. The Queen of Rusrich, regal even in her solitude, was carefully sorting through an array of sealed documents and potion-stained parchments, her fingers dancing gracefully over each item with precision.

A soft knock echoed through the chamber.

"Enter," she said without looking up.

The door creaked open and in stepped her ever-faithful butler, a thin, stoic man with snow-white gloves and a posture as straight as a ruler. He held a letter delicately in his hand, as if it were made of glass.

"Your Highness," he said, bowing low. "A message has arrived from Fate Stark. You are formally invited to the Ceremony of the Holy Temple's inauguration."

Philodolferin's violet eyes narrowed as she reached out for the letter. Her long nails, painted the deep hue of crushed berries, tapped against the parchment as she unfolded it.

She read the elegantly penned words in silence, her face betraying no emotion-yet something flickered in her gaze. A memory, perhaps. Or a warning.

"The Holy Temple's inauguration..." she murmured, more to herself than to the butler. "How curious. That sacred place has remained sealed for generations. Even the oldest seers speak of it in whispers."

She turned, the folds of her gown trailing behind like a shadow, and walked toward the fireplace where the ancient crest of Rusrich was etched into the stone above the mantle.

"Tell me, Ardel," she said, her voice steady yet cold. "Has the Temple stirred at last, or has Fate Stark begun playing with legends he doesn't fully understand?"

Ardel remained still, his hands clasped behind his back. "The invitation is sealed with the symbol of the High Council, and bears Fate's personal crest. Preparations have already begun in Eldoria, or so the messenger claimed."

She turned abruptly. "Summon the Crimson Coven. I want every historical account of the Temple by nightfall. And dispatch a falcon to Queen Elizabeth-I want to know if Earth suspects anything."

"As you command," Ardel said with a bow, already retreating.

Left alone once more, Philodolferin walked back to her desk, the letter still in hand. She traced a finger over the emblem at its base-a golden eye surrounded by seven stars.

"At least I will get to see Eren..." Philodolferin sighed heavily.

NOREDA [The Realm of Nymphs]

The flickering glow of moon-crystals bathed the royal chamber in a calm, silvery light. A gentle breeze from the open arches carried the scent of wet earth and pine. The guards outside stood in absolute silence as the great doors to the King's private chamber closed behind Elvera and Erevan.

Summoned in the late hours of the evening, the siblings walked side by side, their steps echoing against the polished stone floor. King Eren stood by the great table at the center of the room, his back to them, hands clasped behind him.

Wordlessly, they took their seats on the couch facing their father.

A single letter lay on the table between them, its seal already broken-the unmistakable emblem of the High Council glimmered faintly under the candlelight.

Erevan's gaze drifted to it immediately, his brows drawing together. "Is it from Fate?" he asked, voice calm but sharp with curiosity.

King Eren turned slowly to face them, his expression unreadable.

"Yes," he said at last, his voice steady. "The Ceremony of the Holy Temple is being revived. Fate Stark has summoned all the royal families to Eldoria."

Elvera leaned forward, her eyes fixed on her father. "The Temple? I thought it was sealed forever."

"So did we all," Eren replied. "But something has changed. Fate would not make such a move unless he was absolutely certain. The Temple doesn't open without purpose."

Erevan exchanged a glance with Elvera, then looked back to the king. "And what does he intend?"

Eren walked over to them, his tone lowering. "That, my son, remains unclear. But we cannot ignore the summons. The Temple was built long before the realms divided. Its secrets could change everything-power, prophecy, even succession."

A heavy silence followed, broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth.

Erevan sat up straighter. "Then we must prepare."

Elvera placed her hand gently on the table, eyes steady. "When do we leave?"

Eren gave a small, resolute smile-the kind that held both pride and fear. "At dawn. We ride for Eldoria."

RIVERDOLFIYA [The Realm of Werewolves]

The scent of pine and wild musk hung heavy in the air as the wind howled through the high towers of Stormfang Citadel. The skies above were painted with storm clouds, thick and restless, mirroring the mood inside the alpha's chamber.

Alpha Zeronis Wolverine paced across the stone floor, his boots echoing in the grand, torch-lit room. His cloak, made from the pelt of a legendary white direwolf, trailed behind him like a living shadow. His jaw was clenched, and his amber eyes burned with restrained frustration.

"I just went to the Council a few weeks ago," he growled, tossing a scroll onto the table. "I hate these responsibilities, Grewn. And most precisely, I do not like Fate Stark."

Grewn, his second-in-command and a seasoned war-wolf of Riverdolfiya, stood beside the fireplace, arms crossed, brow furrowed. The firelight danced across his greying beard and scarred face.

He let out a long, knowing sigh. "Most royals don't," he said frankly. "But as king, you don't have the luxury of personal grudges. You must attend the inauguration, Alpha. There is no second choice."

Zeronis turned toward him sharply. "Why now? Why awaken a temple that's been buried in myth and dust? Fate claims vision, but I see manipulation."

Grewn stepped forward. "Whether vision or politics, it doesn't matter. If the other monarchs show and you don't, Riverdolfiya looks like a defiant rogue. You've just ascended the Thrown. Don't give them a reason to undermine you."

Zeronis exhaled slowly, his hands tightening into fists before he relaxed them again.

"Gather the elite guard," he said at last. "We ride to Eldoria at first light. But if this Temple is a trap or a stage for Fate's twisted games..."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Then I will not play tame wolf."