Estella funneled as much magic as she dared through her fingertips, pressing them into Ves's chainmail where her arm was slung around his waist. Cyrus had his shoulder on the other side, but she could tell that the fight so far had taken too much of a toll on him for him to be able to walk under his own power just now. Perhaps, with a little rest, he'd be able to do so again, but at the moment, they just had to help him and hope for the best, because the alternatives were unthinkable.
So she kept up the magic, and fixed her eyes on Harellan's back. He hadn't spoken of this temple and the Well like he'd laid eyes upon them personally, but he seemed to have a better idea than her of where they were going, and she trusted him to make sure they didn't get lost. At the moment the path was just straight ahead anyway, and she tried not to think about the friends they were leaving behind to traverse it, fighting against Corypheus and his most fearsome subordinates. They'd find away to surviveâand anyway if the rest of them didn't push on to the Well and reach it before Corypheus did, everyone here was going to die.
She grunted softly when her foot caught on an uneven flagstone, catching herself before she inadvertently dragged Ves and Cy down with her. The mark on her free right hand hummed softly, something she felt almost more than she saw it, reminding her of its presence. She might well need it soon, but for now they were doing all right on their own, crossing the bridge at a hasty shuffle, Zee guarding the rear with her bow. Astraia was just ahead, between Harrellan and the three of them. Though Estella didn't doubt her capability, she figured it was probably better that she be here than in the thick of the battle proper. Acclimating to those conditions was something best done over time, not all at once and not like this.
Perhaps, if they were very lucky, there would be no more fighting this way at all.
Astraia turned as she ran, likely checking on Ves's condition, but her eyes were soon drawn to something behind and above Estella, and by the way they widened with immediate fear, it couldn't be anything good.
"Oh gods," she said, turning back around. "Faster! Go!"
A moment later Estella could hear the wings on the wind, and she didn't need to look to know that it was Corypheus's corrupted dragon bearing down on them. The door was just ahead, already slightly ajar for some reason. All they had to do was get inside.
She could hear Cyrus hiss under his breath, and he accelerated, nearly pulling both herself and Ves along for the ride. âStellulam! Jump yourselvesâI'll catch up!" He let go of the both of them, then, turning around and making sure Zahra got past him, too, fingers already billowing with frost. Zee whipped past him in a flurry of wild curls, a determined look on her face. She didnât need to be told twice, not when something as large as Corypheusâ dragon was hot on their heels. Arrows would do little against the beast's thick hide.
There wasn't any time to protest or ask what he had on his mind. Cyrus would be able to run. Ves could not. "Hold on, Ves." Pushing out a breath, Estella tightened her grip on him, bearing more weight than was really comfortable, but not so much she couldn't deal with it. On her palm, the mark crackled to life, wreathing them both in green light. She felt it, the moment it settled into place just so. With her next step, she willed them inside the temple.
It was a longer jump than she usually made, and Estella tumbled more than stepped out of it, her ankle turning on a hard landing; she fell to a knee with a hard thump, wincing at the sudden pain that shot up and down her leg from the impact. The floor here was stone, too, but they were definitely on the right side of the door. She could see Harellan and Astraia, and a moment later, Zee appeared, sliding through the gap in the doors.
Estella held her breath, even as she pulled herself and Ves back to their feet.
Seconds ticked by; the dragon screeched again, and she could hear what seemed to be a hissing intake of breath in the space between wingbeats. But then there was a more solid sound, an impact, maybe, and then a crunch. A pause, and then Cyrus's rapid footsteps. He burst through the door just barely in front of a column of flames, which seemed to have caught one of his sleeves already.
Harellan spoke a word she didn't catch as soon as Cyrus was in; the doors slammed together, a golden light appearing in the seam and at the edges of them, before disappearing to leave a flawless wall where before there had been an entrance. Cyrus, meanwhile, dropped quite intentionally to the floor, rolling over and putting his sleeve out on the stone. He rolled back to his feet with enviable ease for someone breathing that hard, but doubled over immediately, hands on his knees.
âI would... prefer not... to do that again, if possible."
Zee grinned wide and patted the scorched fabric of his sleeve, resting her hand there, before drawing in a large breath of her own. Though sheâd much improved her endurance since sheâd first joined the Inquisition⊠running was still not her forte, and not something she particularly enjoyed. The smile tempered itself as she retracted her hand and pushed her hair back behind her ears.
âLeast weâre all in one piece,â she added with a soft cluck of her tongue. It couldâve ended with them not quite reaching the door in time, after all.
Ves's weight suddenly pulled hard on Estella's arm. He'd tried to get back to his feet, but it wasn't to last. "I... need to stop." He sank heavily to his knees, tipping over forward to plant a hand against the floor. His axe clattered there as well; somehow he'd managed to get it inside, though his ability to fight had diminished to the point of making it almost more trouble than it was worth. It was an old weapon, though, not something easily discarded.
"You're okay, Ves," Astraia assured him, lowering her staff to the ground and kneeling in front of him. She looked more than a little shaky, but considering her lack of experience both in battles and with dragons, she was holding together pretty well. "Were you hit by something?"
"Don't worry, Skygirl. Just... need to catch my breath." He glanced around behind him, pushing long silver-white hair away from his face. "We made it."
"We did." Astraia picked her staff back up and stood, taking a step back to take it in. "It's beautiful. I've never seen a ruin like this."
And it was. The interior of the temple was surprisingly intact, actually, hardly deserving of the name ruin at all. Estella let herself study it while Ves rested, taking in the pale grey stone, fashioned into pointed arches and vaulting columns, much of the interior open to the forest and sunlight, which bathed the vestibule in mellow gold, filtered through the interrupted emerald-green canopy. The plants were verdant, some sprays of flowers almost as lush and dripping with color as the ones she'd seen in Arlathan, though there was a sense of fading here, like the richest and most saturated of the colors had ebbed away, even if what was left was still vibrant compared to most places.
The air was very still, and despite the openness, she could not hear the sounds of the battle raging beyond. The dragon did not screech, did not try to fly over the gate they'd passed an into one of the courtyards ahead. She could only assume it was protected by magic. And she did feel magicâsomething tingling just beneath the surface of her skin, slow and alive and ancient like the most primordial of trees, maybe. The hush here made every sound seem almost too loud, as though they were intruding on the natural state of the temple simply by breathing its air or rustling as they moved. This, too, she'd felt in some parts of Arlathan, but it took a moment for the connection to really click into place.
More than anything, this felt like the caverns. The place where the sepulchers ended, and the underground lake with its beams of sunlight lay undisturbed. Like it was just infused with magic, in a way that maybe everything used to be, closer to what had once been than anywhere else.
And in some quiet, still way, dead. A monument, a tomb. It filled her with feelings she did not quite understand, pressing down like despair but a little gentler, older and more tempered. An old grief, faded like the color where it must have once been acute. And an old weariness, lassitude pulling at her limbs, bidding her move slower, think slower, exist in a stiller way. Estella wasn't sure what to make of that, but her eyes found Harellan, automatically seeking his explanation of the experience, for surely he would have one.
If anyone seemed to fit the atmosphere, to escape the charge of being too loud and vigorous for the setting, it was him. Cyrus standing next to him looked vaguely uneasy, eyes moving too quickly over the surroundings but always pulled back in the same direction. What was there was impossible to sayâhe didn't seem to be really looking at anything.
But Harellan was quiet a moment longer, head tilted almost as if listening for something. "You're sensing the magic." The words seemed meant for Estella, though perhaps they could have applied just as easily to Cy or even Astraia. "There's more of it left here than I expected. I'll need to make a closer examination of the sourceâit should be further in." He paused, apparently deliberating with himself for a moment. "...I think there's reason for hope. With that energy, I should be able to solve the problem." He looked almost relieved to be saying it.
He couldn't possibly be as relieved as she was to hear it. Estella expelled a soft breath, feeling a bit of the omnipresent tensionâtension she'd been carrying without pause since the day Ves told her his symptoms had come backâloosen and ease away from her. It wasn't a guarantee, and she wasn't fool enough to treat it as one.
But it was hope. And Maker, godsâwhatever was out thereâshe was grateful for it.
"Can you feel it, Ves?" Astraia started forward, unable to keep her eyes in front of her, her gaze wandering all around. "I can't even begin to describe it."
"I'm feeling a lot of things," he admitted, using Estella's help to get back to his feet. "None of them new, I don't think. Must be something for the mages. Slow down, Skygirl. Saraya's wary, I think there are traps in here. The Venatori were being slowed by them in the jungle, after all. Makes sense that there might be more inside."
She nodded, coming to a stop until the others could catch up with her. They moved down a long corridor, an entryway it would seem, one that widened beyond into a massive outer courtyard. The foliage had long since crept in here; chunks of the ceiling had collapsed, letting sun and rain through and over time helping the wild take hold once more. Statues lined the walls, most carved in the shapes of animals. Halla, dragons, wolves... there were more, but Ves signaled a halt.
"The pedestal, there. There's writing." A bowl of smooth stone sat atop it. Metalwork twisted like roots down the column of the pedestal, snaking into the floor before them. Ves translated the words written just below the bowl. "It... is very vague. But I think it's asking for an offering of blood. A... request to know who seeks entry into the Sanctum of Mythal." He shrugged. "Saraya's fixated on it, so it must be important."
Harellan hummed, but he didn't seem at all surprised. "I don't think the traps will be an issue after all." His eyes flickered over the group, pausing a moment where Estella stood close enough to Ves to steady him if necessary. But then they shifted away again and landed on Cyrus instead. He raised an eyebrow, clearly articulating his suggestion without any additional words.
Cy frowned, lips pulling down faintly, but then he expelled a breath from his nose. âFine." He hadn't stopped carrying his remaining metal sword on his person, but made no effort to unsheathe it for the purpose, instead making a quick gesture and wrapping his fingers around the kingfisher-blue knife that materialized out of the fade. Sliding deftly around the others, he approached the bowl, removing the leather glove on his right hand with his teeth. âHow much?" He asked the question around the obstruction, but it came through clear enough to understand.
"Just a little should do."
Rolling his eyesâmost likely because of the vagueness of Harellan's measureâCyrus held his hand over the metal and used the knife to prick his index finger, banishing the knife by letting go of it and using his left hand to squeeze below the small wound until a fat drop of red welled to the surface. He flicked it off into the bowl, where it landed with an audible patter against the polished stone, and abruptly disappeared, as though absorbed tracelessly into it.
The effect was immediate: the metalwork began to glow softly, casting off a greenish light that spread from up near the base of the bowl to where the 'roots' embedded into the ground. A distant rumble could be heard, and then a click, like a latch settling into place, but louder. The magic around them shifted somehow, something else filtering into it akin to a cool breeze on a summer day, lifting away some of the enforced languidness in the atmosphere. It felt like being... welcomed.
Estella had so little sense for all of... this, that she wasn't even sure if she was surprised or not. On one level, it sort of made sense that the temple would recognize Cy's bloodâtheir blood. But at the same time, it all still felt much too big for her. Surreal, or impossible, or something. It felt like maybe it should all matter more than it did. A long time ago, she'd have thought it did. But now, as in Arlathan, there was no sudden and mysterious sense of belonging to anything. She was glad they were who they were, but for the simple, helpful fact that it was going to help them with their very immediate, very present goals.
She shot her brother a grateful smile, and then Harellan led all of them forward. She didn't know exactly what instinct he was moving by, but surely he and Cyrus both felt the magic more keenly than she did. Or could at least understand what the feelings meant better than she did. Whatever the case, she didn't hesitate to follow. They moved quietly through the temple, bypassing what looked like obstacles or features of the place that pilgrims were no doubt ordinarily expected to interact with. One of them looked like a puzzle, a large section of floor with softly glowing panels. But the door beyond it stood open, the building itself seeming to accept their presence as their right, one that need not be proven in any other way.
They passed open courtyards and more statues, places where the perfume of the plants was heavy and sweet on the air, stirred by a real breeze this time, cooling Estella's cheeks and just briefly lifting the hair off her sweat-slick nape. She almost sighed with relief, but kept moving instead, pausing only once. That was to look up at an alcove filled with magnificent mosaics, mostly made of what looked like jade and other green stones of varying shades. The figures were very abstract, but from the general shapes of them and the symbolism, she could pick them out as being of the Evanuris: Dirthamen's mouth was covered by his hands, holding back the secrets he kept; Mythal looked to have flowers held protectively in her grasp, and Elgar'nan gripped the sun, turned slightly aside from the viewer as he cast it down.
Shaking her head slightly, Estella moved on, tracing her fingers over the side of another of the many sitting wolf statues as they headed into what looked like the very central chambers of the temple.
The doors again they found opened for them already, but these led into a place that was very different from the outer reaches of the temple. The floors were tiled and quite intact, the repeating geometric patterns unbroken by any decay. More than that, this chamber was... clean. Very little dirt rested on the floor, apart from what they dragged in on their boots. Large braziers burned in the corners, providing necessary light, as there were no cracks in the ceiling above to let the sun in here. A pair of archer statues flanked them on their way in, bows pointing the way to the center of the room.
"I feel like I've walked into an empty city," Astraia remarked. It did almost look that way, like a great nexus of the temple's paths. There were no fewer than five massive double doors they could see, these ones the first they found closed since the blood offering. Two were on either side further in, and one at the back of a balcony that they approached, a platform where one could feasibly watch over all who entered.
And indeed, Estella could feel eyes on her, from somewhere in the shadows. The firelight wasn't quite adequate to illuminate the entire room, and it left plenty of places to hide. The others could feel it too, judging by the way Astraia finally lifted her bladed staff defensively again, and Ves warily glanced around.
A moment later, he gasped as if in shock, and his legs failed him, dropping him to his knees with a clatter of metal that echoed off the high walls. There was pain there, when Estella was able to catch his eyes, but it wasn't just that. Ves was experiencing something powerful, something fiercely emotional. It took several moments before he could choke out the words.
"They... are still here. After all this time."
A bowstring creaked, and then another. Lithe, armored figures stepped out of the shadows, arrows aimed for their hearts, keen eyes studying the intruders from under their hoods. To a one they wore the marks of Mythal upon their foreheads, upon their armor. And the armor... it was so very like Ves's, but it was lighter, sleeker, perhaps more suited to this thick forest.
The elves surrounded them at a distance, waiting in silence for something. They did not need to wait long, as a more heavily armored hooded figure appeared upon the balcony above, his arms crossed as he peered down at them.
"Venavis," he said. "You are unlike the other invaders."
So she kept up the magic, and fixed her eyes on Harellan's back. He hadn't spoken of this temple and the Well like he'd laid eyes upon them personally, but he seemed to have a better idea than her of where they were going, and she trusted him to make sure they didn't get lost. At the moment the path was just straight ahead anyway, and she tried not to think about the friends they were leaving behind to traverse it, fighting against Corypheus and his most fearsome subordinates. They'd find away to surviveâand anyway if the rest of them didn't push on to the Well and reach it before Corypheus did, everyone here was going to die.
She grunted softly when her foot caught on an uneven flagstone, catching herself before she inadvertently dragged Ves and Cy down with her. The mark on her free right hand hummed softly, something she felt almost more than she saw it, reminding her of its presence. She might well need it soon, but for now they were doing all right on their own, crossing the bridge at a hasty shuffle, Zee guarding the rear with her bow. Astraia was just ahead, between Harrellan and the three of them. Though Estella didn't doubt her capability, she figured it was probably better that she be here than in the thick of the battle proper. Acclimating to those conditions was something best done over time, not all at once and not like this.
Perhaps, if they were very lucky, there would be no more fighting this way at all.
Astraia turned as she ran, likely checking on Ves's condition, but her eyes were soon drawn to something behind and above Estella, and by the way they widened with immediate fear, it couldn't be anything good.
"Oh gods," she said, turning back around. "Faster! Go!"
A moment later Estella could hear the wings on the wind, and she didn't need to look to know that it was Corypheus's corrupted dragon bearing down on them. The door was just ahead, already slightly ajar for some reason. All they had to do was get inside.
She could hear Cyrus hiss under his breath, and he accelerated, nearly pulling both herself and Ves along for the ride. âStellulam! Jump yourselvesâI'll catch up!" He let go of the both of them, then, turning around and making sure Zahra got past him, too, fingers already billowing with frost. Zee whipped past him in a flurry of wild curls, a determined look on her face. She didnât need to be told twice, not when something as large as Corypheusâ dragon was hot on their heels. Arrows would do little against the beast's thick hide.
There wasn't any time to protest or ask what he had on his mind. Cyrus would be able to run. Ves could not. "Hold on, Ves." Pushing out a breath, Estella tightened her grip on him, bearing more weight than was really comfortable, but not so much she couldn't deal with it. On her palm, the mark crackled to life, wreathing them both in green light. She felt it, the moment it settled into place just so. With her next step, she willed them inside the temple.
It was a longer jump than she usually made, and Estella tumbled more than stepped out of it, her ankle turning on a hard landing; she fell to a knee with a hard thump, wincing at the sudden pain that shot up and down her leg from the impact. The floor here was stone, too, but they were definitely on the right side of the door. She could see Harellan and Astraia, and a moment later, Zee appeared, sliding through the gap in the doors.
Estella held her breath, even as she pulled herself and Ves back to their feet.
Seconds ticked by; the dragon screeched again, and she could hear what seemed to be a hissing intake of breath in the space between wingbeats. But then there was a more solid sound, an impact, maybe, and then a crunch. A pause, and then Cyrus's rapid footsteps. He burst through the door just barely in front of a column of flames, which seemed to have caught one of his sleeves already.
Harellan spoke a word she didn't catch as soon as Cyrus was in; the doors slammed together, a golden light appearing in the seam and at the edges of them, before disappearing to leave a flawless wall where before there had been an entrance. Cyrus, meanwhile, dropped quite intentionally to the floor, rolling over and putting his sleeve out on the stone. He rolled back to his feet with enviable ease for someone breathing that hard, but doubled over immediately, hands on his knees.
âI would... prefer not... to do that again, if possible."
Zee grinned wide and patted the scorched fabric of his sleeve, resting her hand there, before drawing in a large breath of her own. Though sheâd much improved her endurance since sheâd first joined the Inquisition⊠running was still not her forte, and not something she particularly enjoyed. The smile tempered itself as she retracted her hand and pushed her hair back behind her ears.
âLeast weâre all in one piece,â she added with a soft cluck of her tongue. It couldâve ended with them not quite reaching the door in time, after all.
Ves's weight suddenly pulled hard on Estella's arm. He'd tried to get back to his feet, but it wasn't to last. "I... need to stop." He sank heavily to his knees, tipping over forward to plant a hand against the floor. His axe clattered there as well; somehow he'd managed to get it inside, though his ability to fight had diminished to the point of making it almost more trouble than it was worth. It was an old weapon, though, not something easily discarded.
"You're okay, Ves," Astraia assured him, lowering her staff to the ground and kneeling in front of him. She looked more than a little shaky, but considering her lack of experience both in battles and with dragons, she was holding together pretty well. "Were you hit by something?"
"Don't worry, Skygirl. Just... need to catch my breath." He glanced around behind him, pushing long silver-white hair away from his face. "We made it."
"We did." Astraia picked her staff back up and stood, taking a step back to take it in. "It's beautiful. I've never seen a ruin like this."
And it was. The interior of the temple was surprisingly intact, actually, hardly deserving of the name ruin at all. Estella let herself study it while Ves rested, taking in the pale grey stone, fashioned into pointed arches and vaulting columns, much of the interior open to the forest and sunlight, which bathed the vestibule in mellow gold, filtered through the interrupted emerald-green canopy. The plants were verdant, some sprays of flowers almost as lush and dripping with color as the ones she'd seen in Arlathan, though there was a sense of fading here, like the richest and most saturated of the colors had ebbed away, even if what was left was still vibrant compared to most places.
The air was very still, and despite the openness, she could not hear the sounds of the battle raging beyond. The dragon did not screech, did not try to fly over the gate they'd passed an into one of the courtyards ahead. She could only assume it was protected by magic. And she did feel magicâsomething tingling just beneath the surface of her skin, slow and alive and ancient like the most primordial of trees, maybe. The hush here made every sound seem almost too loud, as though they were intruding on the natural state of the temple simply by breathing its air or rustling as they moved. This, too, she'd felt in some parts of Arlathan, but it took a moment for the connection to really click into place.
More than anything, this felt like the caverns. The place where the sepulchers ended, and the underground lake with its beams of sunlight lay undisturbed. Like it was just infused with magic, in a way that maybe everything used to be, closer to what had once been than anywhere else.
And in some quiet, still way, dead. A monument, a tomb. It filled her with feelings she did not quite understand, pressing down like despair but a little gentler, older and more tempered. An old grief, faded like the color where it must have once been acute. And an old weariness, lassitude pulling at her limbs, bidding her move slower, think slower, exist in a stiller way. Estella wasn't sure what to make of that, but her eyes found Harellan, automatically seeking his explanation of the experience, for surely he would have one.
If anyone seemed to fit the atmosphere, to escape the charge of being too loud and vigorous for the setting, it was him. Cyrus standing next to him looked vaguely uneasy, eyes moving too quickly over the surroundings but always pulled back in the same direction. What was there was impossible to sayâhe didn't seem to be really looking at anything.
But Harellan was quiet a moment longer, head tilted almost as if listening for something. "You're sensing the magic." The words seemed meant for Estella, though perhaps they could have applied just as easily to Cy or even Astraia. "There's more of it left here than I expected. I'll need to make a closer examination of the sourceâit should be further in." He paused, apparently deliberating with himself for a moment. "...I think there's reason for hope. With that energy, I should be able to solve the problem." He looked almost relieved to be saying it.
He couldn't possibly be as relieved as she was to hear it. Estella expelled a soft breath, feeling a bit of the omnipresent tensionâtension she'd been carrying without pause since the day Ves told her his symptoms had come backâloosen and ease away from her. It wasn't a guarantee, and she wasn't fool enough to treat it as one.
But it was hope. And Maker, godsâwhatever was out thereâshe was grateful for it.
"Can you feel it, Ves?" Astraia started forward, unable to keep her eyes in front of her, her gaze wandering all around. "I can't even begin to describe it."
"I'm feeling a lot of things," he admitted, using Estella's help to get back to his feet. "None of them new, I don't think. Must be something for the mages. Slow down, Skygirl. Saraya's wary, I think there are traps in here. The Venatori were being slowed by them in the jungle, after all. Makes sense that there might be more inside."
She nodded, coming to a stop until the others could catch up with her. They moved down a long corridor, an entryway it would seem, one that widened beyond into a massive outer courtyard. The foliage had long since crept in here; chunks of the ceiling had collapsed, letting sun and rain through and over time helping the wild take hold once more. Statues lined the walls, most carved in the shapes of animals. Halla, dragons, wolves... there were more, but Ves signaled a halt.
"The pedestal, there. There's writing." A bowl of smooth stone sat atop it. Metalwork twisted like roots down the column of the pedestal, snaking into the floor before them. Ves translated the words written just below the bowl. "It... is very vague. But I think it's asking for an offering of blood. A... request to know who seeks entry into the Sanctum of Mythal." He shrugged. "Saraya's fixated on it, so it must be important."
Harellan hummed, but he didn't seem at all surprised. "I don't think the traps will be an issue after all." His eyes flickered over the group, pausing a moment where Estella stood close enough to Ves to steady him if necessary. But then they shifted away again and landed on Cyrus instead. He raised an eyebrow, clearly articulating his suggestion without any additional words.
Cy frowned, lips pulling down faintly, but then he expelled a breath from his nose. âFine." He hadn't stopped carrying his remaining metal sword on his person, but made no effort to unsheathe it for the purpose, instead making a quick gesture and wrapping his fingers around the kingfisher-blue knife that materialized out of the fade. Sliding deftly around the others, he approached the bowl, removing the leather glove on his right hand with his teeth. âHow much?" He asked the question around the obstruction, but it came through clear enough to understand.
"Just a little should do."
Rolling his eyesâmost likely because of the vagueness of Harellan's measureâCyrus held his hand over the metal and used the knife to prick his index finger, banishing the knife by letting go of it and using his left hand to squeeze below the small wound until a fat drop of red welled to the surface. He flicked it off into the bowl, where it landed with an audible patter against the polished stone, and abruptly disappeared, as though absorbed tracelessly into it.
The effect was immediate: the metalwork began to glow softly, casting off a greenish light that spread from up near the base of the bowl to where the 'roots' embedded into the ground. A distant rumble could be heard, and then a click, like a latch settling into place, but louder. The magic around them shifted somehow, something else filtering into it akin to a cool breeze on a summer day, lifting away some of the enforced languidness in the atmosphere. It felt like being... welcomed.
Estella had so little sense for all of... this, that she wasn't even sure if she was surprised or not. On one level, it sort of made sense that the temple would recognize Cy's bloodâtheir blood. But at the same time, it all still felt much too big for her. Surreal, or impossible, or something. It felt like maybe it should all matter more than it did. A long time ago, she'd have thought it did. But now, as in Arlathan, there was no sudden and mysterious sense of belonging to anything. She was glad they were who they were, but for the simple, helpful fact that it was going to help them with their very immediate, very present goals.
She shot her brother a grateful smile, and then Harellan led all of them forward. She didn't know exactly what instinct he was moving by, but surely he and Cyrus both felt the magic more keenly than she did. Or could at least understand what the feelings meant better than she did. Whatever the case, she didn't hesitate to follow. They moved quietly through the temple, bypassing what looked like obstacles or features of the place that pilgrims were no doubt ordinarily expected to interact with. One of them looked like a puzzle, a large section of floor with softly glowing panels. But the door beyond it stood open, the building itself seeming to accept their presence as their right, one that need not be proven in any other way.
They passed open courtyards and more statues, places where the perfume of the plants was heavy and sweet on the air, stirred by a real breeze this time, cooling Estella's cheeks and just briefly lifting the hair off her sweat-slick nape. She almost sighed with relief, but kept moving instead, pausing only once. That was to look up at an alcove filled with magnificent mosaics, mostly made of what looked like jade and other green stones of varying shades. The figures were very abstract, but from the general shapes of them and the symbolism, she could pick them out as being of the Evanuris: Dirthamen's mouth was covered by his hands, holding back the secrets he kept; Mythal looked to have flowers held protectively in her grasp, and Elgar'nan gripped the sun, turned slightly aside from the viewer as he cast it down.
Shaking her head slightly, Estella moved on, tracing her fingers over the side of another of the many sitting wolf statues as they headed into what looked like the very central chambers of the temple.
The doors again they found opened for them already, but these led into a place that was very different from the outer reaches of the temple. The floors were tiled and quite intact, the repeating geometric patterns unbroken by any decay. More than that, this chamber was... clean. Very little dirt rested on the floor, apart from what they dragged in on their boots. Large braziers burned in the corners, providing necessary light, as there were no cracks in the ceiling above to let the sun in here. A pair of archer statues flanked them on their way in, bows pointing the way to the center of the room.
"I feel like I've walked into an empty city," Astraia remarked. It did almost look that way, like a great nexus of the temple's paths. There were no fewer than five massive double doors they could see, these ones the first they found closed since the blood offering. Two were on either side further in, and one at the back of a balcony that they approached, a platform where one could feasibly watch over all who entered.
And indeed, Estella could feel eyes on her, from somewhere in the shadows. The firelight wasn't quite adequate to illuminate the entire room, and it left plenty of places to hide. The others could feel it too, judging by the way Astraia finally lifted her bladed staff defensively again, and Ves warily glanced around.
A moment later, he gasped as if in shock, and his legs failed him, dropping him to his knees with a clatter of metal that echoed off the high walls. There was pain there, when Estella was able to catch his eyes, but it wasn't just that. Ves was experiencing something powerful, something fiercely emotional. It took several moments before he could choke out the words.
"They... are still here. After all this time."
A bowstring creaked, and then another. Lithe, armored figures stepped out of the shadows, arrows aimed for their hearts, keen eyes studying the intruders from under their hoods. To a one they wore the marks of Mythal upon their foreheads, upon their armor. And the armor... it was so very like Ves's, but it was lighter, sleeker, perhaps more suited to this thick forest.
The elves surrounded them at a distance, waiting in silence for something. They did not need to wait long, as a more heavily armored hooded figure appeared upon the balcony above, his arms crossed as he peered down at them.
"Venavis," he said. "You are unlike the other invaders."