The Temple in the Pines

*Helios*

The pain in my ribs was a dull ache now, pulsing with every breath. Not deep — but enough to remind me I was still alive. Still raw.

Stonewake felt heavy on my arm, its runes faintly glowing, like they were waking up with me. Brakka had forged a good shield — one I needed today more than ever.

I kept my eyes on Aaron as Aelira stitched the cut beneath his eye. He looked drained, but there was something in him now. Stubborn. Like he wasn't ready to break. Not after what happened.

I didn't know what I was supposed to be feeling. Relief? Pride? Fear?

Probably all of it, tangled like a storm in my chest.

This wasn't the life I expected at twenty-one. Not this kind of fight. Not with stakes this high.

I thought back to the bandits I'd faced before — petty thieves, desperate men. Nothing like what we'd just survived.

Today had teeth.

Aaron had changed. The way he moved, the way the gauntlets felt like part of him — not just armor — it told me something. He was stepping into something bigger now. And I couldn't ignore it.

That scar under his eye — faint, but real — would be a reminder. A mark of what we'd survived.

What we'd lost.

And then there was Father.

A man I thought I knew, but whose shadow stretched long across both our lives.

He'd been gentle with Aaron, I'd heard. A calm presence in a violent world. The kind of strength that didn't need to shout.

I wondered what he would think of all this. Of me. Of Aaron. Fighting side by side, bloodied and bruised.

Would he be proud?

Or would he worry we were rushing headlong into chaos?

I didn't know.

But I felt the weight of his absence — heavy and cold, like a missing piece in the armor I wore every day.

I looked down at Stonewake, my grip tightening.

I had to be ready.

For them.

For myself.

The road ahead was long, dark, and full of threats.

But we had to keep moving.

No one else was coming to save us.

A bit later i told Aaron and Aelira I was going hunting.

The forest was quiet, except for the whisper of leaves brushing against one another overhead. I'd left camp before the others stirred, slipping away with my shield and a knife, hoping to find meat — rabbit, maybe boar if I was lucky.

But luck had other plans.

I followed a stream, tracking shallow prints in the mud — until they just stopped.

No animal. No scent. Just… a shift. The air felt warmer here. Sunlight filtered down through the canopy, golden and soft.

I slowed.

Then I saw it.

An archway — crumbling, overgrown with moss and roots — standing like the last breath of something ancient. Beyond it, an old stone path curled into a vine-choked ruin.

It wasn't grand. No marble towers. No shining domes. Just modest, quiet.

Humble.

And yet… it stopped me cold.

I stepped through the arch.

The air changed immediately. Still forest-scented, but sweeter somehow. Softer.

Inside the ruin, the ceiling had collapsed, letting beams of light stretch down to the cracked floor. At the center stood a statue — a woman with her hands folded over her chest, eyes lowered, expression gentle.

Not regal. Not proud.

Just kind.

Bhestia.

I knew the name from Father's old bedtime stories — the hearth goddess. A minor one, they said. She hadn't fought in the Great War. She'd taken no sides, spilled no blood. But she had come down to help families survive.

Not warriors.

Not kings.

People.

I knelt before her, not really sure why. Maybe instinct. Maybe because I was tired of only using my strength to kill.

I placed a hand over my chest. The silence felt sacred.

But the words came anyway.

"I'm Helios," I said softly. "Son of no king. Descendant of Vidar.

I've fought, but not in great wars.

I've bled, but never for glory."

My throat tightened.

"I don't know if I'm worthy of anything. But I made a promise.

I'll protect Aaron — with everything I have.

With my life, if I must.

Not because I was told to.

But because he's my brother."

A warmth gathered around me. I looked up.

The statue's eyes… had opened.

No.

A figure stood where the statue had been. A woman in a plain robe, her dark hair braided simply. She looked down at me with that same gentle expression.

Bhestia.

"You are not unworthy," she said, voice soft as wind through tall grass.

"You are young. And uncertain.

But so was every protector who came before you."

I couldn't breathe.

I bowed my head.

"You speak like the first of my children did," she said. "Not with pride. But with truth."

Helios froze.

"You kneel not for yourself, but for someone else.

That is the beginning of every strong vow."

I swallowed. "Are you… real?"

A breeze passed over my shoulders.

But the air didn't move.

"I never left," she said. "They just stopped listening."

Then she asked:

"Do you accept my blessing, Helios?

It comes with a price.

You will not strike first without cause.

You will carry the weight of others before your own.

But your strength will grow — not in rage, but in purpose."

My fingers tightened on the strap of my shield. Her gaze wasn't a command.

It was a question.

A choice.

"I accept," I said. "Whatever it costs. I'll protect him."

She touched two fingers to my forehead.

Warmth flooded through me — not burning, not searing.

Just steady.

Like a hearthfire.

"Then rise," Bhestia said.

"You are bound now. Not by chains — but by choice.

And your choice will shape your strength."

I stood.

She was gone.

Only the statue remained — eyes closed once more.

But I felt it.

In my chest.

In my limbs.

Something had changed.

I wasn't just strong anymore.

I was anchored.

I turned and left the temple behind.

Not with food.

But with something else.

A vow.

A flame.

And a purpose.