The temple didn't rise from the earth so much as it grew from it—twisted stone and vine, curved pillars blanketed in moss and time. It stood silent in the clearing like a sleeping god, ancient and watching.
Elara felt the pull the moment she crossed the threshold of trees.
A heavy hum in her bones.
"This is it," she whispered.
Kaelen came to stand beside her, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. He studied the structure with narrowed eyes. "This place feels wrong."
"It's old," Elara said. "Older than the war. Older than any kingdom."
They approached the temple slowly, the dense canopy above casting it in shadow. Carvings lined the base of its broken archway—symbols Elara couldn't read but somehow understood.
Pain. Memory. Sacrifice.
A story told in stone.
"How did you know it was here?" Kaelen asked.
"I dreamed of it," she said, and when he turned to her, startled, she clarified: "Not just once. Over and over. Since I was a child."
"And the curse led you here?"
She hesitated. "Maybe. Or maybe this is where it ends."
They stepped inside.
The air shifted the moment they entered—cooler, heavier. Dust danced in shafts of faint light, and vines crawled across the floor like veins. The main chamber was circular, with crumbling columns and a high ceiling where a portion of the roof had long since collapsed.
At the center stood an altar.
It was unassuming—flat, cracked, ancient. But Elara's pulse spiked when she saw it.
"It's here," she said, breathless. "The heartstone."
Kaelen blinked. "The what?"
She stepped forward, her voice distant, reverent. "It was said to be forged from the heart of the first mage. A source of magic. A place where truths can be seen—if you're brave enough to look."
He followed her slowly. "You think it'll break the curse?"
"I don't know. But it's the only lead I've ever had."
Elara placed her palm on the stone. At first, nothing happened.
Then the room trembled.
Light burst from the altar, blinding and white. Wind howled from nowhere, swirling her cloak around her. Kaelen shouted her name, reaching for her, but she was no longer there.
Not really.
She stood in a field.
Golden light spilled over tall grass. In the distance, a cottage—familiar, comforting. A memory.
"Elara," a voice said behind her.
She turned.
He was there.
Not Kaelen.
Someone else.
Eyes like ash. A crooked smile. The man she had loved once, long ago. The first. The one who had died.
"Why are you here?" she whispered.
"You called for answers," he said gently.
"I wanted to break the curse."
He stepped closer. "You know what it costs."
"I didn't choose this."
"But you let yourself love again."
Tears stung her eyes. "I didn't mean to."
"That's always how it begins."
He reached out, and she flinched, but his touch was warm. Forgiving.
"You're stronger now," he said. "But the truth you seek will hurt."
"I don't care," she whispered.
He looked into her eyes.
"Then look."
The light vanished.
She staggered back, gasping, as Kaelen caught her.
"Elara! Are you alright?"
She clutched his tunic, grounding herself. "I saw him. The first one."
Kaelen's jaw clenched. "The man who died?"
She nodded.
"What did he say?"
"That the truth will hurt."
Kaelen helped her sit on the steps of the altar. "Then maybe we stop digging."
"No," she said, eyes sharp. "I need to know. If I don't, we'll just be waiting to break."
He didn't argue.
Instead, he sat beside her in silence.
She looked at him—really looked. The scars on his hands. The curve of his jaw. The way his presence made her feel both calm and afraid.
"Kaelen," she said softly, "what are you doing?"
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You keep getting closer."
"And?"
"I warned you not to."
"I heard you," he said. "But I'm not afraid of dying."
"You should be," she said, voice shaking. "Because I'm starting to feel something. And once it's there—once it grows—it's too late."
He reached for her hand. Held it. Firm, grounding.
"Elara. If I die, let it be because I chose to love you anyway."
Tears filled her eyes. "That's not fair."
"No," he said. "But it's true."
She closed her eyes. Let herself lean into his shoulder. For just a moment.
"I'm tired," she whispered.
"I know."
They stayed like that until the light in the temple dimmed. Until the ghosts grew quiet.
That night, they camped outside the temple, near a small stream that whispered through stones.
Kaelen sharpened his blade in silence while Elara cleaned her herbs. The world was quiet, too quiet.
Something was wrong.
"I've been thinking," Elara said, breaking the silence. "If the heartstone shows memories... could it show the origin of the curse?"
"Possibly."
"Then I need to try again."
Kaelen stopped sharpening. "Are you sure?"
She looked at him. "You don't have to come."
"I'm not leaving you."
Elara gave a small smile. "I didn't think you would."
They returned to the temple at dawn.
Elara approached the altar again, placing both hands on the stone. "Show me the beginning," she said.
This time, the vision came faster.
A battlefield.
Rain. Fire. Screams.
A woman knelt in the mud, hands stained red. Around her, dying soldiers. Her tears shimmered with magic.
"Please," she begged. "Let him live."
A voice replied from the storm. Ancient. Cold.
"One life for another. One love for one death. That is the price."
"I'll pay it," the woman said.
"So be it."
The magic struck her, and the mark of the curse burned into her skin. A blessing twisted into punishment. A healer who would fall in love—and always lose.
Elara gasped.
It had begun with a bargain. A broken deal. A heart too kind.
When she came back to herself, Kaelen caught her again.
"What did you see?"
"The first healer," she said, voice hoarse. "She made a deal. Traded lives. Love became the price."
Kaelen looked at her like she'd just unraveled something sacred.
"So... it was never yours. It was inherited."
She nodded. "Passed through blood. Through pain."
He helped her sit down. "Then maybe it can be unmade."
"I don't know how."
"We'll find a way."
She wanted to believe him.
And for the first time in years, she almost did.
End of chapter -4