The journey to the temple was harder than Lyra expected. The forest grew thicker the farther they went, the trees twisted and gnarled as if nature itself had been warped by the devastation. Calen led the way, his movements silent and sure, while Lyra struggled to keep up, her staff occasionally snagging on low-hanging branches.

“How much farther?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Not long,” Calen replied, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re holding up better than I thought you would.”

Lyra frowned but said nothing. She didn’t need his approval, but the weight of the staff and the constant sense of being watched by unseen eyes made her feel uneasy. The silence of the forest wasn’t natural—it was too quiet, too still.

Eventually, they came to a clearing. In the center stood a massive stone structure, partially hidden by thick vines and moss. The temple was ancient, its walls carved with strange symbols that glowed faintly in the moonlight.

“This is it,” Calen said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “The Temple of Shadows. It’s where Eira once came to learn the truth about her power.”

Lyra stared at the temple, her heart pounding. The air around it seemed to hum with energy, pulling at her like an invisible force. She hesitated at the base of the stone steps, a sense of dread settling in her chest.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“No,” Calen admitted, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “But if you want answers, this is the place to find them.”

Lyra took a deep breath and climbed the steps. The moment she crossed the threshold, the air grew heavier, charged with magic that made her skin tingle. The interior of the temple was dark, lit only by the faint glow of runes etched into the walls. The air smelled of earth and something metallic.

Calen walked ahead, his steps echoing in the cavernous space. Lyra followed, her staff held tightly in both hands. As they moved deeper into the temple, she began to notice strange carvings on the walls—scenes of battles, of sorcerers wielding incredible power, of a world torn apart.

“This place feels alive,” she murmured.

“It is,” Calen said. “The magic here is ancient. It’s said to reveal the truth to those who seek it.”

Lyra wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth, but she pressed on. They reached a central chamber where a pedestal stood, holding a glowing orb. The light it emitted was soft and pulsing, like a heartbeat.

Calen gestured to the orb. “Touch it.”

Lyra hesitated. “What if it’s a trap?”

“It might be,” Calen said. “Or it might show you what you need to see.”

Swallowing her fear, Lyra stepped forward and placed her hand on the orb. The moment her skin made contact, the light flared, engulfing her vision. Images flooded her mind—Eira standing tall before the Council, her voice strong as she demanded change. The Council’s fear, their whispers of rebellion. Then the betrayal—a knife in the dark, a spell that shattered the world.

The vision shifted, showing Eira’s desperate attempt to stop the destruction, her power spiraling out of control. The Council turned on her, branding her a traitor, and the Great Devastation followed. It wasn’t greed or ambition that drove Eira—it was betrayal and fear.

Lyra gasped, pulling her hand away as the vision ended. She stumbled back, her knees weak.

“What did you see?” Calen asked, steadying her.

“Eira… she didn’t want this,” Lyra said, her voice shaking. “The Council turned on her. They feared her because she wanted to change things.”

Calen nodded grimly. “That’s what I suspected. The Council protects their power above all else. They’ll do anything to keep it.”

Before Lyra could respond, the room trembled. The runes on the walls flared brightly, and a low growl echoed through the chamber. Figures emerged from the shadows—stone guardians shaped like beasts, their eyes glowing with the same light as the orb.

“Move!” Calen shouted, drawing his daggers.

Lyra raised her staff, the magic flaring to life as the guardians charged. The first one leapt at her, its stone claws swiping through the air. She unleashed a blast of blue light, shattering it into pieces.

More came, their movements fast and relentless. Calen fought beside her, his daggers striking with precision. Lyra felt the magic within her surge, stronger and wilder than before. She let it flow, her attacks becoming more powerful with each strike.

By the time the last guardian fell, the room was filled with dust and rubble. Lyra leaned on her staff, her chest heaving. Calen wiped sweat from his brow, a rare smile on his face.

“Not bad,” he said.

Lyra didn’t reply. Her mind was spinning, the weight of the visions pressing down on her. She knew now that the Council was more dangerous than she’d realized. And if they thought she was Eira, they wouldn’t stop until she was destroyed.

As they left the temple, Lyra glanced at Calen. “Do you think Kael knows the truth about the Council?”

Calen’s smile faded. “If he does, he hasn’t told you. Be careful, Lyra. Trust is a rare thing in Elyria.”