Chapter 158: The Priestess
The temple loomed like a sleeping relic in the demon realm.
Carved into the jagged cliffs of the palace’s farthest reach, its surface was buried beneath layers of vine, as though the world itself had tried to forget it.
The structure was vast yet strangely silent, its towering spires bending slightly as if bowed beneath the weight of centuries.
No wind stirred here, only the sound of quiet breath—if one listened closely enough, it sounded almost otherworldly.
The stone steps groaned beneath their feet as Cassian and Veyce ascended, torchlight flickering dimly on either side, casting long shadows on the wall.
Cassian said nothing, but he felt very strange, a suffocating feeling gripping his heart, and every step forward felt like walking deeper into a memory he never remembered having.
The air grew heavier the closer they drew to the heart of the temple—rich with incense and something older than incense.
In the inner sanctum, veiled behind walls the color of dried bone and ash, a figure stood in silence.
She was still as a statue carved from the dream—her hair flowed in gentle waves down her back, dark as obsidian, moving faintly though there was no breeze.
Her gown was simple, a woven drape of twilight gray, cinched at the waist with a silver vine. Her eyes, though clearly blind, were fixed forward—glassy, opalescent, and unfocused—and yet, somehow, they seemed to see more than any living soul ever could.
The fire before her was not ordinary. It curled unnaturally, flickering in shades of blue and violet, its rim outlined by a strange, glowing sigil—a forgotten rune that glowed faintly as though it were breathing. She stood unmoving, her hands clasped loosely before her, and a strange, serene smile graced her lips.
Then, quietly—soft as a lullaby lost in wind—she whispered.