Chapter 8 – The Temples of Fate
The air was thick with tension as Elvis stood in front of the stone temple, the oppressive silence of the forest pressing down on her like a weight. The ancient structure loomed ahead, its weathered stones bearing the marks of time, covered in creeping vines and moss. A faint glow flickered from within, a soft, pulsing light that beckoned her, drawing her in.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Elvis asked, her voice uncertain.
Alexander stood beside her, his gaze fixed firmly on the temple's entrance. The wind had died down, but there was still an undeniable chill in the air. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes glinted with determination.
"It has to be," he replied quietly. "This is where the answers lie. The flame, the prophecy... they're all connected to this place. To what's inside."
Elvis swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. She had never been this close to the truth. The fear of what lay ahead clung to her like a second skin, but she couldn't turn back now. Not after everything she'd learned, everything she'd discovered about herself and the power that surged within her.
"You're not alone in this, Elvis," Alexander added, his voice softer this time. "Whatever happens in there, I'll be with you."
She nodded, grateful for his support, though part of her still felt like she was standing at the edge of an abyss. Every step she took felt heavier than the last, as if the ground beneath her was shifting with every movement.
Together, they entered the temple.
The interior was a stark contrast to the darkness outside. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings, symbols and figures that Elvis couldn't begin to understand. The glow that had drawn them in was brighter now, emanating from the center of the room. At the heart of the temple stood an ancient stone altar, bathed in the light of the flame that flickered atop it. The flame was different from anything Elvis had seen before. It was white, pure, and seemed to burn without consuming anything. It flickered with an unnatural rhythm, as though it was alive, as though it had a will of its own.
"This is it," Alexander whispered, stepping forward. "The heart of the flame."
Elvis followed him, drawn to the altar despite her hesitation. She could feel the heat of the flame against her skin, even from a distance. It was almost intoxicating, the pull of its power. Her chest tightened as she approached the altar, and the white flame seemed to respond, pulsing brighter as she drew closer.
A voice echoed in her mind, a whisper that was neither her own nor anyone else's. It was ancient, a warning and a call, intertwined.
"Awaken the flame, and you will awaken the past. But beware, for the flame holds more than just power—it holds memories. The memories of those who came before. The memories of those who failed."
Elvis froze, her breath caught in her throat. The voice faded as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a trail of unease. She glanced at Alexander, but he didn't seem to have heard it. He was focused entirely on the flame.
"Is it... calling to you?" Elvis asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes," Alexander replied, his eyes narrowing. "The flame is sentient. It chooses its own vessel, and it's chosen you. But the flame also holds the memories of all those who've tried to control it. Some succeeded, but most failed. And the consequences of failure are... catastrophic."
A shiver ran down Elvis's spine. The stories Alexander had told her flashed through her mind—of Varion's obsession with the flame, of his betrayal, and the endless cycle of those who sought to use it for their own gain. And now she was part of that story, whether she wanted to be or not.
"I don't understand," she admitted, her voice trembling. "How can I control something like this? How can anyone?"
"You can," Alexander said firmly. "You have to. The flame chose you because you are strong enough to bear its burden. But you'll need to unlock its power. You'll need to understand its history."
Elvis turned her gaze back to the flame. It flickered in the darkness like a living creature, and she could almost feel it tugging at her soul, calling her to step forward, to embrace its power.
But with that power came the knowledge of the past—the failures, the betrayals, the blood that had been spilled in the name of control. The flame had seen it all, and now, so would she.
"Are you ready?" Alexander asked, his voice low and urgent.
"I think so," Elvis replied, though doubt lingered in her mind. She stepped forward, her hand trembling as she reached out toward the flame.
As her fingers brushed the edge of the light, a shock ran through her body. The world around her shifted, and for a moment, she felt as though she were falling—through time, through space, through memories not her own.
She saw faces—thousands of them—swirling in a haze of light and shadow. Some were familiar, others strange. They all reached out to her, their eyes full of desperation and regret.
She heard whispers, the voices of those who had failed.
"You cannot control the flame. It will consume you, just as it consumed us."
"Power... betrayal... destruction."
"We tried... but we failed..."
Elvis pulled her hand back, gasping for breath as the visions faded. She stumbled, disoriented, her mind racing to process what she had seen.
"Are you okay?" Alexander asked, his voice full of concern as he caught her by the arm.
"I... I saw them," Elvis whispered, her voice shaky. "The people who tried to control it... they failed. They're all dead."
"Not all," Alexander said, his voice tight. "Some are still out there. And they'll do anything to control the flame. That's why we can't let it fall into the wrong hands. Not even Varion's."
Elvis nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of what she had just experienced. The flame was more than just a weapon. It was a curse, a force that had destroyed countless lives—and it was inside her, now.
"What do I do now?" she asked, feeling small and insignificant in the face of everything she had learned.
"You keep going," Alexander said firmly. "You learn to control the flame. You understand its history, its power. And together, we stop those who would use it for their own ends."
Elvis took a deep breath, looking back at the white flame that had become a part of her. She had no choice but to accept it, to embrace it—even if it meant facing the past, and everything that came with it.
"Let's go," she said, her voice steadying. "We have a war to fight."