The walls were breathing.
Rael felt it the moment he stepped past the threshold.
Each stone of the Buried Temple pulsed faintly, in slow rhythmic patterns — like a heart deep beneath the surface. Veins of dim silver ran through the walls, coiling around murals that depicted no gods, no thrones, no pantheon.
Only memory.
Rows of nameless figures stood across the stone. Some were crying. Some bowed in reverence. Others bled from the eyes. All of them stared toward the center — where a massive sealed door of living roots waited, and beyond it, the eighth seed.
Behind Rael, his companions followed in silence.
Laria lit the way with a slow-burning flame held aloft in her palm. Kessai walked beside her, eyes flicking at the walls with wariness. Nyssira held Rael's hand quietly, her presence soft but grounded.
Selene brought up the rear, her dagger already in hand.
Shaevari trailed slightly behind the group, half in shadow, her cloak brushing the walls as if listening for something only she could hear.
The temple was not silent.
It was whispering.
They reached the first hall of trials without fanfare.
The room stretched outward, domed and circular, lined with cracked mirrors that showed no reflection — only fragments of the past.
When Laria passed the first mirror, her flame dimmed.
She froze.
On the glass, she saw herself — kneeling before a great pyre, clad in priestess robes, holding the charred body of a man once worshiped as a flame god.
"I failed him," she whispered.
Rael stepped beside her.
"You followed him to the end."
"I chose wrong."
"You're choosing again now," Rael said, placing his hand over hers. "That's what matters."
Laria's eyes shimmered — not with power, but emotion. She nodded, and the flame brightened once more.
Kessai stood before the second mirror.
She saw herself as a child, running barefoot through burning embers, tears on her cheeks, dragging her sister's limp body behind her.
She didn't speak.
She just exhaled and punched the mirror.
It shattered.
The door ahead opened.
The deeper they walked, the more the temple responded.
Walls shifted behind them. Roots recoiled. The air thickened with pressure, not unlike divine presence — but older, and more personal.
At the third chamber, Nyssira faltered.
She clutched Rael's arm.
"I see my father," she said, trembling. "Telling me I'd never matter. That I was nothing but a shadow cast by stronger women."
Rael tilted her chin up.
"You are your own light now."
She smiled, shakily.
"Then I'll burn for you."
Shaevari watched from the corner of the room, arms crossed.
She saw no vision in her mirror.
Only darkness.
Yet she flinched.
Rael noticed.
"You don't have to fight it," he said gently.
Shaevari turned away. "I fight everything. That's who I am."
"No," he said. "That's who you've had to be."
She didn't reply.
But for the first time… she didn't walk away either.
The fourth chamber pulsed stronger than the rest.
Rael stepped into it and paused.
Because at the far end of the chamber stood Hel.
Not as a shadow.
Not as a memory.
But in full.
She wore a dress of woven black roots and starlight threads. Her pale skin shimmered faintly with frost, her long silver-white hair tumbling in slow waves as if suspended in water. Her eyes were dark — too dark — like they remembered everything that had ever died.
The others froze.
Even Selene.
Only Rael walked forward.
"You've been watching me," he said.
Hel inclined her head. "As the gatekeeper does."
"To protect the seed?"
"To test the one who would take it."
Rael stopped a few paces before her. "Have I passed?"
Hel's expression shifted — only slightly.
"You brought them," she said, looking past him to the women standing behind. "You did not take the path alone."
"I never wanted to."
She circled him slowly. "You love them. But love is not loyalty. Will they follow you when your flame dims? When your power falters? When the stars turn away?"
Rael looked to them.
Selene stood tall, unshaken.Laria's eyes gleamed with trust.Nyssira nodded softly, one hand over her heart.Kessai grinned like she'd fight the world for him.Shaevari... said nothing.
But she stepped forward.
"I'm not loyal," she said. "Not to kings or gods."
She looked at Rael.
"But I haven't run yet."
Hel studied her.
Then smiled.
"The eighth seed responds not to conquest, but to connection. Only those bound by more than blood and blade may wield it."
She turned to the sealed door at the far end of the hall — roots crawling aside, stone pulsing like a heartbeat.
"It is time."
As they descended the final spiral stair into the temple's heart, the air changed again.
Time seemed to bend.
One step lasted minutes.
One heartbeat echoed like thunder.
The walls shimmered with fragments of memory — Rael as a child, crying beneath moonlight; Selene alone with a blade pressed to her palm; Laria burning her sacred robes; Shaevari curled against a tree, watching frost claim her clan.
The past did not judge.
It simply witnessed.
And waited.
They reached the final chamber.
A throne of roots and memory stood at the center, coiled with silver flame. The eighth seed floated above it — a sphere of light and shadow intertwined, pulsing with every breath Rael took.
But it didn't react.
Not yet.
Hel stepped forward.
"You must anchor it."
Rael looked to his companions. "Together."
He took Selene's hand first. Her warmth grounded him. Her heartbeat matched his.
Then Laria's — steady, wise, calm.
Then Nyssira — trembling, but certain.
Then Kessai — fire, laughter, rage and love.
Finally… he reached for Shaevari.
She stared at his hand for a long time.
Then removed her glove.
And placed her palm in his.
The eighth seed pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Then exploded into light.
The light didn't blind them.
It enveloped them.
Each of them saw something different.
Selene saw Rael's face as a boy — broken and fierce.Laria saw her own god burning, whispering "you chose well."Nyssira heard her name spoken like a blessing.Kessai saw her sister smile — truly smile — for the first time.Shaevari saw herself… not in darkness… but dancing in sunlight.
And Rael?
He saw a thousand futures.
A thousand wives.
A thousand choices.
But one truth.
He would never walk alone again.
When the light faded, the throne remained empty.
But the eighth seed now floated at Rael's chest, sinking slowly into his body.
It vanished.
And he breathed — not heavier.
But lighter.
Hel approached and touched his shoulder.
"You are ready."
Rael opened his eyes.
"No," he said softly. "I'm becoming ready."