[The Holy Temple of Aetheria—Inner Sanctum]
The bells of Aetheria Holy Temple tolled, deep and thunderous—like the heartbeat of an ancient god stirring beneath the marble.
In the heart of the Imperial Capital, high above the glittering spires and gold-laced rooftops, the Holy Temple sat like a crown made of white stone and ancient whispers. Its towers pierced the sky. Its halls swallowed light. And behind its prayer-draped doors, the air was always cold—holy, heavy, and watching.
Candles flickered along the columns, smoke curling toward vaulted ceilings like offerings reaching for judgment.
A pair of bare footsteps echoed.
The man in the silver-white robe knelt before the carved gates of the inner sanctum, head bowed, hands pressed in fervent devotion. He did not move. He did not speak.
Until the doors creaked open.
And the high priest stepped into the light.
