The Shrine

Selena didn’t know how long it had been since Theo, with all the grace of a gremlin godparent, grabbed her by the arm and hurled her face-first through a magical door like he was tossing a sack of mildly cursed potatoes.

Now here she was—cheek smushed against the dusty, mossy floor of what looked like a half-abandoned temple from a low-budget horror film. Her dignity had clearly been left behind somewhere between the ER and whatever cursed GPS coordinates this shrine belonged to.

“Make this shrine beautiful when I get back,” Theo had declared earlier, hands on his hips like a self-righteous homeowner handing renovation duties to a stray cat. He gave the collapsing pillars and rain-leaking roof a once-over with a face that screamed yikes.

“This used to be a magical shrine. That was before Nexus went AWOL. His power maintained this whole place, and now that you’re almost officially the land god, you must do your job like Nexus did.”

And just like that—poof—he vanished. Mid-sentence. No instruction manual. No beginner’s guide. Not even a goodbye. Just the smell of ozone and unfinished responsibility lingering in the air.

Selena stood there alone, blinking at the decaying altar while water from the storm began trickling across the stone floor like it was staging a coup. Her eye twitched. Her soul twitched. Her lower back twitched because she’d landed like a sack of wet laundry.

God knew she tried. She recited every spell she vaguely remembered from internet rabbit holes. “Abracadabra,” “Leviosa”—not “Leviosar,” she corrected herself mid-prayer—and even, in desperation, “Escucha las palabras de las brujas, los secretos escondidos en la noche...” while raising her hands like she was in a soap opera for witches.

She even twerked aggressively at the end just in case divine energies were into rhythmic spiritual offerings. Nothing happened. Not even a sparkle. Not a puff of smoke. The shrine just dripped.

The worst part? She still didn’t understand anything. Theo being a spirit? What kind? A celestial one? A cryptid? A tired one with abandonment issues? She had no clue. All she knew was that Nexus—whoever that glittery beaming menace truly was—had probably set her up like some divine prank show.

The deeper it sank in, the more she considered writing a farewell letter and pretending she’d been kidnapped by forest ghouls just to escape whatever land god job description she’d apparently inherited. What was next? Insurance for spiritual artifacts? A salary? An HR department?

Selena sighed and flopped onto her back, rain starting to trickle through the broken ceiling and onto her face. “I should’ve stayed unconscious in the hospital,” she muttered. “At least there, the snacks were free.”

Selena groaned and hurled herself into the nearest corner—which, to her misfortune, was the only dry space in the entire, crumbling ruin of a shrine. It smelled like mildew and regret, but at least it wasn’t actively dripping on her scalp. She plopped down with a graceless thud, legs crossed, arms folded, the picture of a soggy goddess-in-training on strike.

“I hope Theo gets a heart attack when he comes back and sees this dump still looks like a haunted garage sale,” she muttered bitterly, adjusting her grip on her dignity—or what was left of it. Maybe then he’d finally give her a break.

Because hello?! She had just regained consciousness like roughly minutes ago... probably. The man didn’t even give her time to breathe and explain things a little, let alone change clothes.

And now she was stuck in a hospital gown and undergarments, sitting like a damp gremlin under divine employment.

Was this what being chosen by prophecy felt like?

Hugging her knees to her chest, Selena stared at the wall. “This should be a dream,” she said, voice wavering. But the faint glow pulsing from her chest, soft and persistent like a second heartbeat, reminded her that no, she hadn’t hit her head too hard to hallucinate.

If she remembered right—barely, shakily—from those scattered, eerie memory fragments of Nexus, she must really have inherited something. Something divine—a succession Theo was mumbling about before he vanished like her father.

Nexus must really have told her everything before— which she must have clearly forgotten. She’d lived with him for what felt like ages. Surely he could’ve left her a scroll, a letter, maybe a PowerPoint? But no, she had no manual. Just glittery trauma and a cryptic fever-dream line: “Tame a very powerful being.”

Selena’s eyes widened as the words echoed in her head like a bad horror movie line. “He was talking about Theo... right?” Her voice quivered. “And if Theo is a spirit... d-does that mean h-he’s... an evil one?”

Her gasp was so loud it startled a bird outside the broken shrine window. She slapped a hand over her mouth dramatically, like she’d just uncovered a murder plot. Her eyes darted around the shrine in panic. Was it haunted? Was she supposed to exorcise him?

She lowered her hand slowly, whispering to herself. “I’m not qualified for this. I’ve never even tamed a dog.”

Just as Selena was preparing to collapse and give up finally, something flickered at the corner of her eye. She froze. Her instincts screamed rat, but what she saw made her gasp and nearly swallow her own tongue.

A blue flame floated mid-air near the doorway, softly flickering like an unbothered, nonchalant ghost. It looked eerily magical. Or suspiciously sentient. Or maybe both.

Her curiosity, which had the impulse control of a caffeinated platypus, got the better of her. She stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off her already-dirty hospital gown, and approached the flame with caution.

But just as she extended a tentative finger toward it, the flame darted away—zipping through the broken doorframe like it had better things to do.

“Rude,” she muttered, and without hesitation, chased it out like a child following a butterfly made of sorcery and questionable choices.

The moment she stepped outside, she stopped and stared. Sunshine. Warm, blinding, glorious sunshine greeted her. Birds chirped. Flowers bloomed. The world outside looked like a cottage core dream.

Selena turned around and grimaced. The shrine—her cursed assignment—was still gloomier than a tax office, with thunderclouds coiling ominously above it like it had committed several felonies. And the worst part? The storm was exclusive. It hovered only above the shrine, like nature itself had obvious favoritism.

Selena sighed, briefly considering throwing a tantrum and demanding a refund from the cosmos, but the blue flame reminded her of its existence by floating again in the corner of her vision. She whipped her head around and saw it hiding—yes, hiding—behind the trunk of an enormous tree. With squinted suspicion and stealth, Selena crept closer.

And there, she saw him.

A tall man stood just a few paces away, his figure partially turned in profile, leaning with intentional casualness against the ancient tree as though it were part of some dramatic stage set crafted specifically to make him look cinematic.

His silver hair—too perfect to be natural and too immaculate to have been styled by accident—fluttered slightly in the breeze, catching the sunlight like strands of starlight dipped in smugness. Selena narrowed her eyes. That was no regular wind. That was entrance wind.

His skin was pale, almost luminescent against the dark bark behind him, and his side profile looked carved—no, sculpted—like he practiced smirking at his reflection for a living.

His jawline alone had the audacity to be sharper than her last relationship. And the way he tilted his head ever so slightly toward the light? Please. That man knew he looked good. He was counting on it.

Selena stared, rooted to the spot. She blinked. Once. Twice. Seven times. Then gave her cheek a suspicious slap, just in case this was a fever dream sponsored by dehydration and divine trauma.

As if on cue, the man shifted ever so slightly—just enough for the wind to sweep his coat dramatically to the side. He didn’t look at her. Of course not. People like him didn’t look. They allowed themselves to be looked at.

The blue flame hovered near him like a loyal pet, casting a soft glow around his ankles. The air seemed to thrum with subtle tension.

And then, finally—finally—as if deeming that she had been sufficiently dazzled into silence, the man tilted his head just slightly. Just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his eyes: cool, unreadable, and unmistakably aware of his own aesthetic. The kind of gaze that said yes, I woke up like this, and no, I will not tone it down for your comfort.

Of course, it was no other than Yin and his outrageously narcissistic self.

He looked like he was about to say something—probably a monologue rehearsed in front of a mirror and perfected with a puff of calculated smoke—when he suddenly paused. His ego twitched.

Selena wasn’t looking at his face.

She was squinting… down at the lanyard hanging loosely from his neck. At his ID.

“You’re an intern at Vermilion?” she deadpanned, tilting her head.

Yin blinked.

His lips pooched into a practiced smirk, smug and glistening like it had its own PR team. “I knew you knew me—”

“Meh.”