The winds over Daltheria stirred strangely that morning.
As the sun cast slanted gold across the rooftops, a hush fell over the central square, like the breath of the city had caught in its throat.
Merchants paused mid-bargain, a dropped apple rolled quietly across the cobblestones, and even the crows fell silent.
Then he stepped through the gate.
No one saw from where exactly he came. One moment the street had been empty. The next, there was a figure standing beneath the archway, shadow stretching long behind him, yet the sun was at his front.
He wore garments that shimmered like starlight held in silk. Navy and gold, tailored like the garb of an aristocrat but far too intricate for any known noble house.
His long, midnight-blue hair caught the light in strange hues, and a streak of pale silver ran like a comet through it.
He smiled.
Not with warmth. Not quite with malice either. His smile held the weight of something ancient wrapped in a boy's mischief, like he knew too many endings, and was amused by beginnings.
Passersby instinctively gave him space. Some nodded politely. Others bowed, though they didn't know why.
He walked with slow, purposeful steps into the city, boots silent on the stone despite their firm tread.
Then, in a voice calm and lilting, the young man asked the air itself.
"Where have you hidden your wounds, little city?"
No one answered.
But a cat, scruffy, orange, missing half its tail approached him and rubbed its face against his boot.
Arviel knelt slowly, meeting the cat's cloudy eyes with an unreadable gaze. He touched its head gently. For a brief moment, the animal's fur shimmered, as though it had been dusted with frost. Then, the moment passed.
He stood again.
And kept walking.
Toward the heart of Daltheria.
Toward something he hadn't yet named.
***
The morning mist still clung to the cobblestones when Altherion adjusted the strap of his satchel, boots crunching over wet gravel just outside the city gates.
Beside him, Liesette was already pacing in a circle, arms crossed, muttering half to herself and half to him.
"Okay. Let's go over it one more time," she said, tapping her index finger rhythmically against her temple. "The temple is sealed for a reason. That reason is usually very bad. So, listen carefully."
Altherion gave a casual shrug. "I am listening. Though, if I suddenly start glowing or speaking backwards, you have my permission to panic."
"That is not funny," Liesette snapped, though the corners of her mouth twitched. She paused, then held up three fingers. "Rule one: Don't touch anything with more than four limbs. If it's a statue, it should not have moved. If it moves and you're not hallucinating, run."
Altherion blinked. "You've seen that before?"
"No. But my mentor did. He came back without his eyebrows."
"I assume he survived?"
"Debatable."
She cleared her throat and raised a second finger.
"Rule two: Do not speak the language on the wall out loud. Reading it is fine, whispering is tolerable, but saying it aloud might activate something ancient and generally unpleasant."
Altherion gave a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Good to know. I was just about to start reciting Trilium poetry."
Liesette didn't laugh.
Instead, her gaze softened for a moment, almost hesitant.
"And… rule three," she continued, voice lower, "If something whispers to you and says your real name… don't answer it."
There was a long pause.
Altherion looked up at her, brow furrowed.
"My real name?" he echoed. "How would it know-"
"I don't know," Liesette cut in quickly. "Just don't. Not in that place. The temple doesn't like people who remember things they shouldn't."
The silence between them thickened for a second, until she forced a grin and slapped his shoulder.
"But hey! It's probably all just cautionary tales and exaggerated reports! Probably!"
Altherion looked unconvinced. "So it's a cursed ruin that listens, watches, and maybe knows my name. And you volunteered us for this."
"I thought it'd be educational," she beamed.
He sighed, adjusting the journal strapped to his hip. "If I vanish, tell the library I still owe them two books."
"I'll tell them you died bravely, surrounded by cursed rocks and suspicious glyphs," she said cheerfully, before adding, "Also, I already returned your books. You're welcome."
As they stepped onto the winding forest path, with the looming canopy swallowing the light above them, Altherion glanced once over his shoulder toward the city walls now shrouded in morning fog. He couldn't shake the feeling that something else had entered Daltheria that day. Something unseen.
But the sealed temple awaited.
And secrets, as always, refused to stay buried forever.
***
The forest path wound like a serpent through ancient trees, their trunks twisted and gnarled as though shaped by centuries of whispers.
Shafts of pale sunlight broke through the canopy in fractured beams, illuminating motes of dust and pollen that danced like falling stars.
Altherion stepped over a patch of tangled roots, his boots already damp with dew. "You'd think a 'sealed temple' would be in the middle of some grand, empty plain. Not buried in a jungle that wants to eat your ankles."
Liesette, a few steps ahead, glanced back with a smirk. "That's the charm of it. Sealed temples never make it easy. If it's not ankle-eating vines, it's fog, illusions, or-"
"Flesh-melting curses?"
"Exactly. Though to be fair, most of those only melt the skin. The bones are usually fine."
Altherion let out a dry laugh. "Comforting."
They walked in silence for a while, the chirps of unseen insects and the creak of branches above filling the void between their words. Eventually, Altherion spoke again, this time softer.
"So… how many times have you been to places like this?"
Liesette looked up at the canopy, eyes tracing the dancing light. "Hmm. Enough to know when to stop asking questions. But not enough to stop going."
"That sounds poetic and ominous."
She chuckled. "It's a historian's curse. You start by chasing answers and end up finding doors no one should open. We're very bad at walking away."
Altherion hummed in agreement, then hesitated before adding, "But you seem… more careful than most. You knew about those rules. You sounded like you meant them."
Liesette didn't respond right away. She kicked a loose stone off the path and watched it disappear into a bed of ferns.
"There are stories that don't make it into the archives," she said quietly. "Stories only passed down between those who survived… barely. I listened. And I remembered."
He studied her profile, how her cheerful facade seemed just slightly thinner here, away from the crowds and cobblestones. Something about the forest made them both feel more like themselves, or perhaps less able to pretend.
Altherion cleared his throat. "Well… thank you. For bringing me. Even if we're headed to a probably-haunted death tample."
Liesette turned, her grin returning like a sunrise. "Oh, don't be dramatic. It's only mildly haunted."
They shared a small laugh, and for a moment, the forest didn't feel so heavy.
But then, just as they rounded a bend, the trees seemed to grow taller, darker. The wind stilled. Even the birdsong ceased.
Up ahead, half-concealed by ivy and moss, stood an arched stone gateway, broken, but undeniably ancient.
Beyond it, a narrow stone stairway descended into shadow.
Liesette stopped, her voice low. "That's it. The threshold. Once we pass that arch, the rules apply."
Altherion swallowed, then nodded. "Ready when you are."
She looked at him, her eyes unreadable. "Then remember, Altherion. In places like this, even silence can lie."
Their steps came to a stop before a great round wall of polished black stone, rising three times the height of a man.
There was no door, no visible crack, only a single slab at the center, marked with delicate carvings like a magical circle, and an ancient inscription in Trilium script, nearly worn away.
Altherion narrowed his eyes. The letters were not straight, but curved, written in spirals. He brushed the surface with his fingers, then slowly read the translation.
"Three siblings sit without chairs,
One disappears when another shines.
They have no mouths, yet they lie.
No hands, yet they steal.
Their names are never spoken,
But only one may you choose.
Answer: who am I?"
Liesette blinked. "This isn't normal Trilium. Some symbols are twisted, and parts of the sentence are broken. This is... a riddle?"
Altherion gave a nervous chuckle. "Looks like the temple doesn't need a key. Just wants to drive people insane before they go inside." He stepped back and began to pace. "Three siblings... one disappears when another shines. Sounds like something in the sky?"
"It can't be," Liesette said quickly. "If it's about moons or stars, the answer's too obvious. This riddle doesn't want to be solved that easily."
Altherion rubbed his forehead. "No mouths but can lie... no hands but can steal…"
He glanced at her. "Is this a creature? Or something symbolic?"
Liesette studied the carvings. After a pause, she said softly, "Think about it something with three parts, but they oppose each other. One appears, another vanishes. It can affect the world, but it's not alive…"
Altherion looked up at the canopy of trees. "One disappears when another shines... so they block each other. And... they're not physical."
"Like... identity?" Liesette offered.
"Hmm... but identity doesn't steal…"
He froze. His eyes widened.
"Maybe... a shadow."
Liesette turned sharply. "Why a shadow?"
"Think. Three siblings, it could mean light, darkness, and shadow. A shadow disappears without light. A shadow 'lies' because it hides your true shape. It can 'steal' your form."
He nodded slowly, convincing himself. "Of the three, shadow is the trickiest. You can't touch it. Can't hold it. But it's there. Sometimes."
He turned to the wall and spoke firmly, "Shadow."
Silence.
Only the wind in the trees, and their breathing.
Then-
A deep click echoed through the stones. The magical circle on the slab began to glow, soft blue light spinning outward in rings. The black wall slowly cracked open, forming a curved doorway that led into the darkness.
Altherion stared in disbelief. He turned to Liesette, his breath short.
She gave a faint smile. "You really hate puzzles, don't you?"
Altherion answered quietly, "I hate not knowing. That's different."
Together, they stepped through the opening, descending a stone staircase that led into the sealed temple. Behind them, the black wall slid shut once more, sealing away the outside world.
***
The air inside the sealed temple was colder than outside, dry and still like it had been waiting a long time for someone to enter.
Altherion stepped in slowly, Liesette stayed quiet for once, her eyes wide as she looked around the massive chamber.
The walls were tall, stretching up into shadow. Strange patterns ran across them, images, drawings, and what looked like faded stories.
Rows of murals decorated both sides of the long hallway. At first glance, they seemed simple. Two moons painted in different skies, one silver, one deep red. Scenes of forests, oceans, and strange cities below them. But the colors were faded, and the lines looked... odd, almost like they shimmered slightly when the blue crystals overhead flickered.
"They're beautiful," Liesette whispered. "This must be thousands of years old."
Altherion nodded, but said nothing. Something about the images felt off to him, though he couldn't explain why.
They moved from one mural to the next, their steps echoing in the silence.
Each scene seemed to show the two moons in different phases, moving apart, drawing closer, and finally aligning in the sky.
The final mural showed something strange: the sky tearing slightly at the center, like a glitch or crack. And between the two moons... a third shape. Faint. Blurry. Almost hidden.
Altherion tilted his head. "What's that?"
Liesette stared at the strange, broken circle hovering beside the two moons. "I don't know. I've never seen that before."
"Another moon?" he asked.
"There are only two, no records speak of a third."
They both stood still, puzzled.
Altherion narrowed his eyes and leaned closer. The image didn't look painted like the rest. The lines were too clean, too perfect. He reached out, running his fingers lightly over the surface.
"It's not paint, the texture feels... different."
Liesette stepped forward. "What do you mean?"
"Look closer," he said.
Together, they examined the edge of the mural under the crystal light. As the blue glow shifted slightly, Altherion caught it, something tiny, almost invisible at first.
"Wait..." he breathed.
He pulled a small magnifying lens from his pouch and held it to the wall. Then he froze.
"These lines... they're not drawings. They're numbers. Tiny numbers."
Liesette blinked. "Numbers?"
"Yeah," Altherion said, voice shaking slightly. "Really small digits. Carved into the wall so tightly they form shapes when seen from far away."
He ran his eyes across the curved section of the first moon's arc. Then, suddenly, he stopped and pointed.
"Three, one, four... That's pi. 3.14."
Liesette raised a brow. "What's that?"
"It's... it's a mathematical number, a ratio used in circles and curves." Altherion said slowly.
He checked another section. More numbers. Some familiar. Others too strange or jumbled to understand. But it was clear now, none of these murals were normal.
"They're not paintings," he said again, softly. "They're patterns. Built from numbers. Every shadow, every shape... it's made of tiny equations."
Liesette looked overwhelmed. "But why?"
"I don't know. Maybe someone tried to record something. A message, or a warning..." Altherion hesitated. "Or maybe this is how they told stories through math."
His eyes drifted back to the glitch-like shape between the moons.
"If this third one really is a moon, then why don't people know about it?"
Liesette shook her head. "Maybe it only appears during some rare event. Something that only happened long ago..."
Altherion looked again at the faint image, his heart thudding. That shape, it was wrong. It didn't match the style of the others. Like it wasn't supposed to be there. And the numbers surrounding it? They were jumbled, fragmented, some even broken mid-pattern. Unlike the others, this section wasn't calm. It was chaotic.
"Something's different about this one," he whispered. "Something unstable."
And then it clicked, he remembered that number again: 3.14. Pi. Circles. Patterns. Infinity. He didn't know why, but it felt important. Like a small thread waiting to be pulled.
As they stood in silence, surrounded by silent murals made of numbers, Altherion felt something stir in the back of his mind. A thought. A memory.
He couldn't catch it yet.
But it was there.
Waiting.