The Seer's Temple did not merely sit atop the mountain; it seemed to grow from it, a jagged crown of honey-gold stone basking in the oppressive warmth of the afternoon sun. Its walls were a labyrinth of carvings—celestial alignments and chimerical beasts that appeared to writhe and shift under the sun's shifting gaze.
Alvira stood at the base of the Great Ascent, looking up at the thousand steps that vanished into the shimmering heat haze. Beside her, Leo looked small, his shadow swallowed by the sheer magnitude of the climb.
"We aren't walking, are we?" Leo whispered, his voice trembling.
"Not today," Alvira murmured. She closed her eyes, her fingers dancing through the air as she hummed a low, rhythmic nature spell. The ancient oaks flanking the path responded with a deep, subterranean groan. Their massive roots broke through the soil like the ribs of a giant, twisting and intertwining to form a living staircase that lifted them upward, bypassing the grueling stone steps.
When they reached the summit, the air changed. It was no longer the humid breath of the forest but a crisp, thin atmosphere laden with the heavy scent of sandalwood and myrrh. Two weathered stone sentinels stood guard at the threshold, their sightless eyes seemingly tracking Alvira's every heartbeat. Without a sound, the massive doors—etched with symbols of forbidden wisdom—swung inward, exhaling a gust of cold, sacred air.
Leo's hand was a cold, shaking knot in hers. Alvira squeezed it tight. "It's okay. I'm right here."
The interior was a cathedral of light and silence. Stained glass windows fractured the sun into a thousand rainbows that danced across the floor, centering on a massive crystal orb that pulsed with a rhythmic, inner glow. In the center of the hall, a young seer sat in perfect stillness. Her eyes were closed, her face a mask of terrifying serenity, as if she were eavesdropping on the conversations of gods.
"She has been waiting for her successor," the young seer said, her voice echoing without her lips ever moving. She pointed a slender finger toward a heavy iron-bound door at the far end of the hall. "But she did not say she was waiting for you, Daughter of the Queen."
The weight of the young seer's words followed them as they pushed open the final door.
The High Seer did not look like a woman; she looked like a relic. Her face was a map of a thousand midnights, wrinkles etched so deep they looked like scars. Her silver hair was a wild halo of static, and her eyes—intense, piercing stars—seemed to burn through Alvira's skin to the secrets beneath. She leaned heavily on a twisted wooden cane, her tattered black cloak billowing around her like a living shadow.
"This is a holy place," the old woman rasped, her voice like dry leaves skittering over a gravestone. She didn't look at Leo first. She looked at Alvira, her lip curling in a snarl of pure revulsion. "Only the pure are permitted to breathe this air."
Alvira flinched. Was she not pure ? Did she know? Could she smell the wolf on her? Could she see the image of Theo burned into Alvira's soul?
"Come, my son," she said, her tone shifting to a terrifying sweetness as she extended a bony hand to Leo.
Leo hesitated, glancing back at Alvira with wide, pleading eyes. Alvira gave him a gentle nudge, a silent lie of a smile on her face. As Leo placed his small hand in the Seer's claw-like grip, the temperature in the room plummeted.
"You are chosen," the Seer hissed, her eyes glazing over as the prophecy took hold of her. "You are the fulcrum. You will bring the dawn, or you will plunge the world into a darkness that has no end. You must be ready."
She leaned closer to Leo, her voice dropping to a jagged whisper that vibrated in the very stones of the floor. "The gift is a burden. You must do the work of the light, even if it means punishing those you love most. Even if it means striking down the hand that fed you."
She snapped her head toward Alvira, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Because if you do not... if you choose mercy over duty... the consequences will be dire. The village will burn in a fire of your own making."
The hairs on the back of Alvira's neck stood on end. She felt exposed, stripped bare by the old woman's gaze.
The Seer turned back to Leo, her body beginning to shake as a final, rhythmic chant poured from her lips:
"A stranger walks among you now,
With eyes that mask a heart of vow.
Moonlight hides her face in shame,
While she whispers a forbidden name.
Seek the one with secrets untold,
Lest darkness claim the village's gold."
The silence that followed was deafening. The Seer let go of Leo's hand, leaving him swaying on his feet.