Chapter 33 Lore #3
The temple throne room was filling in with more details and I wasn’t sure how that was possible.
But the proof was before me.
The fire seemed to burn eternally, reminiscent of sacred flames tended by the faithful servants to the gods, and if they’d been here when we first arrived, I would have seen them without question.
The flames filled the air with a warm, golden glow that was impossible not to notice.
But instead of a feeling of calm created by the soft light they cast, an ominous feeling permeated the chamber with their arrival.
It felt like the air around us pulsed with an ancient power that was waiting for…
Something terrible, obviously.
Nothing good ever came from a creepy temple throne room that heavily featured a Gothic dream and nightmare motif.
The bowls themselves were carved with scenes nearly as horrible as the tapestry and columns. Not scenes of torture but of worship gone wrong.
Figures knelt in blood-soaked robes before towering beasts with too many limbs, their eyes gouged out or turned skyward in twisted ecstasy.
In one bowl, a mortal’s hands reached upward in desperate prayer, only to be met by a clawed hand descending from flame.
And yet… despite the gruesomeness, I couldn’t look away.
Something about the robed figures sent a chill down my spine.
I stepped closer, needing to understand why they disturbed and captivated me so. And then I noticed the sigil etched into their robes.
Two crescent moons facing outward, a sun in the center, and a sword driven straight through it. My blood turned to ice.
I’d seen that crest before. On the old woman from the traveling caravan.
The woman who’d sent my life into chaos.
I slowly backed away from the fire and the sense of dread closing in on me. How was that symbol here? And how in the hells did it relate to the old woman? Logically, I knew she must be one of the faithful, but why she’d sent me on this quest was a question I didn’t want the answer to just yet.
“Do you see them?” I asked.
Sloth stepped beside me. “They’re Temple Knights. Religious warriors who serve Nyantha.”
Wonderful. I hoped they were restricted to carvings and not about to attack.
Subtle traces of incense and herbs wafted through the space, a heady aroma that indicated someone had burned them recently.
Another new detail.
Or maybe we were just becoming more grounded in this scene.
I swallowed hard.
None of the other stories took this long to fully form. Which made me reconsider if this scene was unraveling instead of being woven into existence.
I glanced around again. I didn’t read anything with this setting. It would have been immediately recognizable.
I knew with certainty where the Liber Noctem had led us, and it wasn’t from any of my favorite books. This must be the Court of Fear.
This was where Nyantha had been banished.
And it felt as dark and forbidding as the goddess who was bound here.
I staggered backward, desperately reaching for Sloth’s hand as if it were a lifeline. He’d been quietly observing it all.
“I think the Trials are about to end,” I whispered, not wanting to attract any attention. I was sure we were being watched now.
In fact, the entire chamber might be teeming with the robed worshippers. The Temple Knights.
I wondered when the veil or glamour or whatever magic was keeping them hidden would drop, exposing them to us.
The prince’s fingers threaded with mine.
He gently tugged me against him, his body tensed.
I waited for him to deny it, to tell me there was still time.
To coolly demand for me to use my magic and take control. That we would be victorious if I remembered to not sink into fear. Or something.
The silence was suffocating and an answer in itself.
When Lord Stoic had no advice, that meant the road truly was dark and it might be time to panic.
“Any idea how I can win this final test?”
I turned to look up at him, but whatever I was about to say died in my throat.
He peered down at me, his expression cold and hard, like a statue carved entirely from ice.
My attention moved from the harsh line of his mouth to his eyes.
They were no longer the familiar blue I loved; they were an endless sea of black, stripped of any recognition.
My heart thudded as this… nightmare stared down at me, void of all emotion. The prince had always been controlled when it came to expressing his feelings, but this was something else.
This was some ancient creature that had never known laughter or warmth.
Had never enjoyed a good book or a warm drink.
Had never known the meaning of family or friends.
Or even of duty and honor.
This was someone who felt nothing.
He didn’t so much as blink as our gazes remained locked.
I wanted to run screaming in the other direction but remained by his side. Which wasn’t an easy feat. The longer I kept looking at him, the more afraid I was.
The depth of the darkness in his eyes was unsettling; they seemed to absorb light itself.
Whoever this was, it wasn’t the prince I knew.
Fear drummed in my chest as I tried to pull away.
His grip tightened, drawing me closer until his breath was a chilling whisper against my ear.
“You already lost.”