Chapter 55 - Far from normal

  The days that followed passed quietly.

  After Ryn’s lesson, life settled into something that almost felt like rhythm. For the first time since Solvara’s fall, Ariel and Lilia managed to wash properly, using the lake that ran behind the temple. The water was cold, but it felt like heaven against their skin, washing away days of ash and dirt.

  It would’ve been perfect…if not for Ryn.

  For some reason, they’d had to convince him that standing guard while they bathed was weird and that no aberration, beast, or creature was going to crawl out of the woods in the few minutes they were gone.

  He’d argued, of course, but eventually sighed and retreated back inside the temple to wait.

  Ryn was… strange.

  Still, the routine that formed after that wasn’t unpleasant.

  Each evening, Lilia trained with him. She was getting better—her stance steadier, her swings sharper. Ryn had even given her drills to do alone, endless repetitions of swings.It hurt, it burned, but it was progress.

  Ariel would always ask to learn; Ryn would always refuse.

  However Ariel was improving too, though in quieter ways. She smiled more now, even laughed sometimes. Lilia tried to keep her spirits up, tried to get her to open up about whatever she was hiding. But every time the topic neared, Ariel brushed it aside, her gaze distant, her hand unconsciously gripping the arm wrapped in cloth.

  Even so, she smiled. And that was enough.

  Lilia knew she would eventually open up, and lilia was pretty patient.

  However today, they had a different plan.

  For the first time since they’d arrived, they were going to explore the rest of the temple.

  At first glance, it had seemed small—just a ruin clinging to what was left of its walls—but they knew now it wasn’t. The deeper they looked, the more it felt like something vast had been buried beneath the years.

  Lilia broke the silence first.

  “..M-Most of the temple’s blocked off by rubble,” she said, running her hand along a cracked pillar. “Only the lower floors, the top level, and a few of the doorways near the center are still open.”

  Ryn nodded, his eyes sweeping over the corridor ahead.

  “Then we start with the hallways.”

  They all agreed. It made sense—clear the paths, see what could still be used.

  The corridors stretched out from the central chamber like veins, but almost every one ended in collapse. Broken stone, torn banners, rusted iron. The air grew colder the farther they went, thick with dust and silence.

  Lilia kicked at a loose tile, frowning. “There’s nothing here,” she muttered.

  Ariel glanced down the dim passage and nodded. “Let’s check the top.”

  They continued upward, the staircase still holding strong despite the years.

  From above, the temple’s structure opened before them, the great hole in the ceiling that poured sunlight down through every level, flooding the center. The light was almost blinding, too focused, as if the sun itself had chosen to rest upon the raised dais below.

  Ariel stumbled halfway up, the stone slick with dust. Lilia caught her by the arm, steadying her until they reached the top.

  The moment they stepped into the upper chamber, they froze.

  The light from the sun was unbearable at first, but when their eyes adjusted, the sight waiting for them stole their breath.

  A mural stretched across the entire wall, vast and ancient. Its detail was so intricate it was hard to tell where one image ended and the next began. The colors had faded, yet something about it still felt alive, pulsing faintly under the sunlight.

  At its center was a great sun, blinding, surrounded by deep crimson hues that bled outward like veins. Around it swarmed countless figures: winged creatures she recognized instantly, their shapes similar to the thing that had killed the abberation aorund a week ago. Only now, there were not one or two, there were hundreds, thousands… maybe millions.

  They were intertwined with other forms, Humans, beasts, creatures, beings she found hard to describe all wrought in gold, all in impossible number —all clawing their way upward toward that same burning sun. The rest was chaos: fragments of cities, the curve of a moon, shapes that might’ve once been kingdoms.

  Ariel’s throat tightened. Her skin prickled with cold despite the light.

  She didn’t know why, but looking at it made her want to look away.

  Sweat ran down her temple as her body tensed, instinctively recoiling from the image.

  The other two didn’t seem to feel it the way Ariel did.

  They stood there, eyes fixed on the mural, their faces caught somewhere between awe and confusion. The light shimmered against their skin, painting them in gold and red.

  “...Let’s head back down,” Ariel whispered.

  Lilia turned first. “...Huh? Why so fas—”

  “Let’s go back. Now.”

  Her voice cracked a little, sharper than she meant.

  Ryn and Lilia exchanged a quick glance, then looked back at her. Something in her expression, tight, distant, frightened, made them both stop asking questions.

  Ryn gave a small nod. “Alright.”

  Together, they turned from the mural and made their way back down the stairs, the light dimming behind them, fading slow—as if the sun itself watched them leave.

  Now, only one place remained unexplored: the bottom floor.

  It was strange. From the outside, you’d never guess the temple had another level. But tucked beside the main staircase was a narrow passage, half-hidden beneath fallen stone, leading downward into the dark.

  They descended carefully, one step at a time. The air grew colder, heavier. The faint glow from above dimmed until only nothing but darkness remained.

  It kept going.

  And going.

  What looked like a small stairwell stretched far deeper than it should have, too deep for the size of the temple above.

  A chill crept down Ariel’s spine as she stared into the darkness below.

  It felt endless.

  But for some reason—a reason none of them could name—they kept going down.

  The staircase wound deeper than it should have, each step groaning beneath their feet. The air grew damp, cold, heavy with dust. By the time they reached the bottom, the last traces of light from above were gone.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  They stood before a doorway that opened into perfect darkness.

  No flicker of moonlight, no reflection, nothing. The air inside felt wrong—too still.

  Lilia, ever prepared, pulled out the half-burned stick Ryn had been using to bully her during training. She struck flint against it until a spark caught, and the flame bloomed.

  Light spilled across the chamber.

  The room was small, circular. The walls were made of plain, dull stone—different from the silver-white tile of the upper floors. Everything here looked older, rougher, as if this place had existed before the rest of the temple was ever built.

  The first thing Lilia noticed was the floor: a single tile set loose among the others, slightly raised, out of place. Then her eyes lifted.

  A torn banner hung limply across the far wall.

  The symbol was faint, the colors nearly gone, drawn differently and less structured—but they recognized it instantly.

  The crest of Solvara.

  It was crude imitation of it—dirty, faded, painted over again and again by an unsteady hand. Yet there was no mistaking it.

  Lilia took a hesitant step forward, her torchlight crawling higher up the wall. That’s when she saw it—scratches, deep and ragged, carved into the stone itself.

  Words.

  As hard as they tried to focus on the words, it was as if they kept shifting, as if their minds simply couldn’t hold onto them

  The letters looked torn rather than written, as though gouged by claws.

  Ryn frowned, leaning closer. “What does that mean?”

  Lilia shook her head, her voice low. “I-I… I don’t know.”

  But Ariel had gone still. Completely.

  Her eyes were fixed on the words, unblinking.

  Then her body began to shake. Her breath hitched, shallow and broken.

  “Ariel?” Lilia reached for her, but Ariel’s hand shot to her mouth as if to stop something from coming

  Her knees buckled, hitting the floor hard — and then she vomited, the sound harsh and wet in the otherwise silent room.

  “Ariel!” Lilia screamed.

  Ryn dropped beside her just as Ariel collapsed onto her side, her entire body trembling like something inside her was tearing itself apart. Her eyes had gone glassy—wide and unfocused, fixed on a point far beyond the chamber.

  As if she wasn’t here at all.

  As if she’d been ripped somewhere else.

  A sound tore from her throat — a scream so raw it scraped the air. It echoed violently off the stone walls, too sharp, too spiraling, too broken.

  It didn’t sound human.

  Lilia grabbed her shoulders immediately, shaking her with both hands. “Ariel! Ariel, look at me!”

  But Ariel didn’t.

  She couldn’t.

  Her whole body seized — a single brutal convulsion that made her limbs jerk—

  —and then she went still.

  Completely still.

  ***

  Lilia and Ryn rushed forward, Ariel’s body limp between them. Ryn’s good arm hooked beneath her shoulders, holding her up as they stumbled toward the stairs.

  By the time they reached the upper level, evening had already settled in, which was strange, because they didn’t remember spending that long exploring the temple.

  This wasn't supposed to happen.

  This wasn’t how things were meant to go.

  They’d only wanted to explore the temple. To find something—anything—that made sense.

  But instead, they were reminded how fragile peace really was.

  They climbed fast, breath ragged, until they reached the top and their small camp. Lilia spread a blanket on the floor and they laid Ariel down.

  She was drenched in sweat, her face pale and twisted with pain. Her breathing came shallow, uneven.

  “What did she see…?” Lilia whispered, staring down at her. “What was that?”

  The words on the wall burned in her mind.

  Both she and Ryn had known Ariel was keeping things from them. They’d told themselves it was fine, that she was getting better, learning to trust them, learning to trust herself again, that when she was ready, she’d tell them everything.

  But now… this was the consequence of their naivety.

  Ariel’s body burned with fever. Her skin was hot to the touch, almost searing.

  “Ryn, get me water.”

  He nodded, grabbed the waterskin, and handed it over. Lilia pulled away the cloth wrapped around Ariel’s arm—the one she’d been hiding since Ryn woke up.

  The cracks beneath it glowed faintly, like veins filled with light.

  She'd seen them before but the sight still made Lilia’s stomach twist.

  She dipped the cloth in cold water and pressed it against Ariel’s forehead, trying to cool her down.

  Ryn’s gaze lingered on the exposed arm. His expression darkened, confusion and worry tightening his jaw.

  “What’s wrong with her arm, Lilia?”

  “I don’t know,” she said quickly, shaking her head.

  He frowned. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I said I don’t know!” she shouted back, her voice breaking. “She hasn’t told me—she hasn’t told me anything!”

  Lilia rose suddenly, the waterskin slipping from her hand and spilling across the floor.

  “And you too,” she said, her voice shaking. “Your the one who said—”

  “...Why havent you told lilia yet?”

  She stopped, her eyes narrowing on him, something fierce and hurt behind them.

  “So what is it, Ryn? What hasn’t Ariel told me?”

  Her gaze remained fixed on him, tears catching in her voice.

  Ryn froze.

  For a heartbeat, his chest tightened, and he couldn’t meet her eyes.

  Lilia looked away, her voice small now.

  “I know…” she whispered. “I know I’m not like you or Ariel. But don’t leave me in the dark.”

  Her throat tightened as she forced the last words out. “It’s… it’s too cruel.”

  Ryn said nothing. The sound of Ariel’s shallow breaths filled the silence, each one pulling them back to the moment.

  He glanced toward her, then back to Lilia—but whatever words came to him, he couldn’t speak them.

  At last he whispered,

  “I’m sorry. She said she’d tell you… I can’t break that.”

  Lilia stood there for a moment, tears streaking down her face as she tried to wipe them away with trembling hands.

  Her breath came unevenly. She pressed her palms against her eyes.

  Her shoulders shook once, then stilled. She stayed that way, frozen between wanting to move and not knowing how,listening to the sound of her own shallow breathing

  “I’m sorry,” she breathed.

  “That was… selfish of me”

  She laughed weakly.

  “...wasn’t it?”

  She tried to smile, but it faltered almost immediately, fading into something ryn found hard to describe.

  He didn’t answer, He didnt know how.

  His gaze dropped to the floor, his fist tightening against his leg

  Then, before either could speak again, Ariel’s arm twitched.

  The markings along her right arm burst to life, glowing white-hot.

  The light devoured the whole room, swallowing every shadow, every corner, until there was nothing but blinding radiance. It burned against their eyes like staring into the sun itself, searing afterimages into their vision.

  The air crackled. Sparks rippled across the floor like veins of lightning, racing outward in jagged patterns that split and reformed. The stone beneath them trembled, a low rumble that seemed to come from deep within the earth.

  And then—

  Darkness.

  Complete. Absolute. As if the light had never existed at all.

  They both froze, blinking desperately against the afterimage that danced across their vision in ghostly whites and golds. Their breaths came sharp and shallow, the only sound in the suffocating quiet.

  A long silence followed. The kind that pressed against the ears, that made the world feel too still, too empty.

  The only sound was Ariel's uneven breathing—ragged, wet, like she was drowning in air.

  Then, faintly at first, came a sound from beyond the temple walls.

  Distant. Raw. Inhuman.

  A shriek.

  It cut through the night like a blade dragging across stone, high and warbling, the kind of sound that shouldn't come from any living throat.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Dozens of them, rising from every direction—from the hills, from the forest, from places they couldn't see. Each one different, some guttural and wet, others sharp and metallic, but all of them wrong. They twisted together, layering over one another until the night itself seemed to scream.