The Graywood released them with the silent, watchful tension of a held breath. Lyra escorted them to the edge of the territory, her silver eyes imparting a final, unspoken warning. No supplies were offered, no words of luck. They were a test, sent out into the wilds, and the Remnant would be waiting to see if they returned worthy—or if they needed to be disposed of.
The forest beyond the Graywood felt different. Lighter, yet more dangerous. The air no longer hummed with latent power, but every rustle of a leaf or snap of a twig felt like a potential threat. They were back in the world that hunted them, now on a mission for the very people who sought to use them.
For two days, they traveled with a grim focus. Sera led the way, her navigation unerring. They spoke little, conserving their energy, their minds occupied with the coming confrontation. The plan was a fragile thing, built on a dozen assumptions and a great deal of hope.
On the evening of the second day, they found a vantage point—a rocky ridge overlooking a shallow valley. And there it was.
The Temple outpost was less a fortress and more a fortified lodge, a sturdy, square building of pale stone with a single watchtower. A high wooden palisade surrounded it. Even from this distance, they could see the faint, shimmering aura of a protective ward surrounding the compound. The flag of the Temple of Divinity—a stylized sun pierced by a single eye—hung limply from the tower.
"It's smaller than I expected," Kael murmured, lying on his stomach beside Sera in the coarse grass.
"That is what makes it dangerous," Sera replied, her eyes narrowed in assessment. "It is easily overlooked. They rely on secrecy and their wards, not brute strength." She pointed a slender finger. "The main gate is the only visible entrance. The ward is strongest there. But look, on the eastern wall, near the base. The earth is discolored. Damp."
Kael squinted. She was right. A patch of the ground just outside the palisade was darker, the grass lusher. "A water run-off? A leak from a cistern?"
"Or a weakness," Sera said, a hint of triumph in her voice. "Constant moisture can erode the earth, create a space beneath the wall where the ward might not fully reach. It is a slim chance, but it is the only one we have that doesn't involve a direct assault."
The plan was taking shape, and it was terrifying. They wouldn't be fighting their way in. They would be crawling.
As dusk began to settle, painting the sky in shades of violet and orange, a figure emerged from the main building into the central courtyard. Even from this distance, they could tell it was a woman, her robes a pale contrast to the stone. She lifted her face to the sky, as if praying to the first stars.
A faint, silvery glow emanated from her, a soft, searching light that was both beautiful and alien. It was the same type of energy the Diviner in the city had wielded, but this felt... younger. Less assured.
"Elara," Kael whispered.
Seeing her made it real. This wasn't an abstract "threat." This was a person. A young woman, idealistic, as Theron had said, standing in a quiet courtyard, utterly unaware that her life had become a bargaining chip in a hidden war.
The cold thread of the Mistress Path stirred within Kael, not with hunger or rage, but with a strange sense of recognition. It felt the ordered, celestial power of the diviner and marked it as the "other." The opposite of its own chaotic nature.
Sera's hand found his arm, her touch pulling him back from the edge. "Remember the plan, Kael. We are not here to feed your Path. We are here to defy the script they have written for us."
He took a deep, steadying breath, forcing the coldness to recede. "I know." He looked from the unsuspecting diviner below to the determined girl beside him. "We break her out. We show Theron that his new weapon has a mind of its own."
As full darkness fell, shrouding the valley, they began their descent from the ridge. They were no longer just fugitives. They were saboteurs. Heretics.
And the night itself felt like their only ally.
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