I followed the priestess through a long, quiet corridor lined with polished wooden pillars and soft lantern light.
As we walked, some of the young guys serving the temple, shaved heads, simple robes, all around my age, watched me with narrowed eyes. They looked at me like I was competition.
A few exchanged quick glances, jaws tight, clearly protective of her in ways that went beyond devotion.
We reached a carved wooden door at the end of the hall, simple but elegant, slightly ajar, leading to what looked like her private resting place. She pushed it open gently and gestured for me to follow her inside.
The room was spacious and serene, flooded with natural light from a large open window that looked out onto a beautiful garden. Tall trees swayed gently outside, their leaves rustling in the mountain breeze, while colorful flowers lined stone paths around a small, clear pond that reflected the sky. Birds chirped softly, and the air smelled faintly of jasmine and wet earth.
