Two days later, the quartet moved through the deep forest, navigating with precision and quiet discipline. Under the guidance of Commander Lei, who held a map given to them by Mystos, and with Vera's assistance, they steadily approached the Black Temple. Their journey was slow and mostly silent. Aside from a few unavoidable encounters with wild beasts, they remained unharmed.
Well, safe wasn't quite the right word. The forest was far too dangerous for that. But it wasn't as perilous as it could have been, thanks to Vera's curse. Her ability kept them hidden, cloaked in a layer of protection that made them almost invisible to threats. The only drawback was its toll on her body. The more she used it, the weaker she became—sometimes to the point where she couldn't move. Whenever that happened, the group had to halt and rest for hours at a time. It slowed their progress, but it was a small price to pay for survival.
Without Vera, they might have stumbled into something deadly—or worse, something deadly might have stumbled upon them.
Commander Lei led the way, but he often cast glances at the quiet young woman walking behind him. He was no stranger to the cost of bearing a curse. He had seen how it could break even the strongest minds. In some nations, cursed individuals were branded as dangers to society, ticking time bombs. If even one of the three young fighters with him lacked sanity, they could be just that: a threat not only to themselves but to everyone around them.
He sighed, heavy with thought.
Let's hope nothing crazy happens. We can't afford it, he mused.
On the third night of their expedition, they finally arrived.
The four of them stood in silence, staring ahead.
The temple was unmistakable.
Before them loomed a structure the forest itself had refused to embrace. Trees stopped short of its borders as if repelled by a force too ancient, too dark. The air around it was still. The clearing, unnatural. It was as though the land had retreated, fearful of what lay within.
The temple stood swallowed in shadow. Its jagged spires clawed at the sky, and its walls—blackened by time and soot—seemed to pulse with a lingering presence, something vast and old and incomprehensible.
"How do we proceed?" Kin asked, his gaze fixed on the ominous structure.
"We move in an hour," Commander Lei replied. "We need to go over the plan again and make sure we have everything we need."
They didn't argue. A beast like the Khelsaroth wasn't just powerful—it was legendary. Hunting any ferocious creature was difficult, but one like this required perfection. There could be no mistakes. One misstep would mean death.
So they prepared.
They sharpened their weapons, checked their tools, adjusted their gear. But most importantly, they reviewed the plan—again and again. Their entire strategy hinged on Vera's ability. It was their best hope at surviving what lay within the Black Temple.
An hour passed. The time had come.
Commander Lei went in alone to cover one section of the ruin. It wasn't ideal—he hated leaving Kin to navigate without him—but the plan required them to split up. Kin and Thia moved together, keeping close, their eyes sharp and hands ready. Meanwhile, Vera remained outside, preparing for the moment her power would be needed most.
Everything had to go according to plan.
Because once they entered that temple, there would be no turning back.
The inside of the temple was cold and silent. The cracked stone floor was uneven with time and neglect. Chunks of the ceiling had collapsed, scattering debris along the path. Dust coated everything in a thick layer, muting the once-smooth stone surfaces.
Faded carvings lined the walls—barely visible now, worn down by centuries of wind and moisture.
Still, Kin and Thia couldn't help but feel awe at the craftsmanship that had gone into building the temple. Even after all these years, it stood—wounded, yes, but proud. A few pillars remained upright, though many leaned precariously or had crumbled entirely. Vines slithered through the broken roof, curling along the walls and floor. In some corners, puddles had gathered where water dripped from unseen cracks above.
Old wooden doors hung crooked on rusted hinges or lay shattered on the ground. Benches and altars—what little remained of them—were either rotting or half-buried under fallen stone. Rodents scurried away at the sound of footsteps, vanishing into cracks in the wall.
As they stepped further into the ruined temple, Commander Lei spoke.
"You two check the main hall and the corridor below. I'll take the rooms above. Be careful. Stick to the plan."
Thia and Kin nodded and went on ahead. The silence in the temple was oppressive, and every footstep echoed louder than it should have. As they walked, Kin found himself glancing at Thia more than once. There was still something about her that pulled at his curiosity—a weight she carried that no title could explain.
Thia caught him staring. Her tone was blunt.
"What? If you have something to say, say it."
Kin hesitated, then gave a small shrug. "I was wondering why the Phoenix Queen adopted you. Was it because of your curse?"
Thia was quiet for a moment. "I don't know," she said simply.
Kin raised an eyebrow, surprised by her honesty.
"She probably has her reasons," she added, not looking at him.
"And you just accepted that?" Kin asked, a little incredulous. "Life as royalty isn't as simple as people think. Trust me—I should know."
"I know that," Thia replied, her voice calm. "But I don't care. I'm not interested in court politics. I just want to protect my friends."
Kin gave her a strange look, then spoke in a more serious tone. "You say that now, but here's something you need to understand: the title of Princess isn't just ceremonial. It carries power and responsibility. The Queen didn't adopt you out of sentiment alone. Maybe part of it is your curse, or who you are. Also, her sending you here is not just for your abilities, but it's also a strategy."
Thia glanced at him.
"She knows the nobles may never accept you as royalty," Kin continued. "So she's giving you a chance to prove yourself. To gain experience. Whether you succeed or fail here matters more than you think. Everything that happens now will shape your claim to the title. She's not just giving you the name of Princess. She's giving you the path to earn the power that comes with it."
Thia's eyes narrowed slightly as she listened, her earlier indifference cracking a little.
"Power isn't just about desire," Kin added. "It has its own will—and the Phoenix Queen knows that. She's helping you earn its favor."
"Wow," Thia said softly. "I never thought of it like that. And how do you know all this? From what I heard... you weren't exactly the ideal prince."
As they turned down the corridor toward the main hall, their steps grew more cautious, eyes flicking to every shadow.
"I wasn't," Kin said with a sigh. "But I listened. I read. I watched. I may not have cared much for princely duties, but I still understood them. I've lived in the heart of power since I could speak. I know what it does to people—and what it demands."
He paused as they stepped into the vast, cold main hall. The air was thick and still.
"My mother once told me something before she passed," Kin said quietly. "You can be anything you want—but only in your dreams. In the real world, you become what you're willing to fight for. If you don't start taking your title seriously, you may find yourself in a worse place than I ever did."
Thia's face darkened. "I won't let anyone take anything from me again," she said, voice edged with something heavy.
Kin gave a small smile. "Same here."
They stepped fully into the hall, eyes widening as they took it in. A shallow pit of water sat at the center, stagnant and dark. Along the walls stood statues of creatures neither of them recognized. Some remained upright, others were broken and scattered across the ground.
But at the far end of the hall, looming in the shadows, stood a massive statue—easily three times the size of the others. It resembled an armored giant, with four arms and a face so small it was almost featureless. It looked less like a statue and more like a silent sentinel… or a forgotten king in a crumbled throne room.
Kin stared at it, a chill crawling down his spine. There was something wrong. Something off.
Kin, Ru- Ashell tried to warn Kin, but it was too late.
A voice rang out—not through the room, but inside their minds.
Welcome.
It was deep, ancient, and wrong. The sound reverberated through their skulls like a thunderclap of thought. Both Kin and Thia staggered back, groaning in pain as their hands flew to their heads.
The temple trembled.
And the statue watched.