CHAPTER 6

SANCTUARY AND BETRAYAL

The path to the sanctuary carved deeper into the mountains, jagged and treacherous. Snow, once a delicate veil, now clung to the craggy ledges like claws. Lerder’s steps were heavy with more than exhaustion. Elara followed in silence, her fingers still warm with the echo of the last vision that hadn’t yet left her bones.

They created a final ridge and there it was—a temple hidden by time and shadow, its black stone facade veined with glowing silver sigils. The Sanctuary of Veyruhn. A place whispered of in half-believed tales. According to the prophecy, this was where the truth would begin to bleed.

Elara’s breath caught so high and her body full of joy and peace of mind

It was beautiful. Not in the way a sunrise was, or a lover’s smile—but with the haunted grace of a dying star. Silent. Watching. Waiting.

But something was wrong.

Lerder tensed beside her, his nose twitching. “We’re not alone.” he turned around and said, “I can sense something new here.”

“Do you feel anything?” Lerder asked.

Before Elara could speak, a steel blade flashed from the shadows. Lerder moved faster than she could think, intercepting the blade mid-air with a stone that echoed off the ancient stones. He shoved Elara behind him.

“Enough,” a calm voice called out from the temple steps. “You’re trespassing. But I suspect not unknowingly.”

From the shadows appear three figures—Kael, Isadora… and a stranger who radiated power like storm clouds about to burst. He stepped forward, golden eyes fixed on Lerder.

“Elara, meet Lysander,” Isadora said coolly. “Our reluctant host. And, as it turns out… Lerder’s brother.”

The air cracked like a whip.

Elara’s gaze snapped to Lerder. His expression had turned to a hard stone.

“You’re alive,” Lerder muttered, voice low, disbelieving. “You should have stayed buried with your lies.” Lerder said to Lysander.

“I could say the same,” Lysander replied, brushing snow from his cloak. “But here we are. Bound again by fate’s charming little loop.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Elara whispered to Lerder.

“Because he betrayed our kind,” Lerder snapped, stepping between her and his brother. “He sided with those who wanted to twist the bond—to turn our gifts into weapons. Our parents died because of him.”

Lysander’s gaze was unflinching. “And yet here you are, dragging the prophecy back into the world. Tell me, little brother—how’s that working out for you?” Lysander asked.

Kael interjected. “We didn’t know the full truth until we arrived. The sanctuary responded to Elara. It's her.”

“The magic knows,” Isadora murmured. “It’s tied to her. To the blood.”

A low hum stirred beneath their feet. Elara stepped forward despite Lerder’s warning glare. The sanctuary doors opened with a groan that shook the mountainside. A corridor of pale light spilled forward, revealing walls covered in carvings that glittered like silver fire.

Within, the Oracle waited.

Bent with age but sharp-eyed, the Oracle stood before a washbowl filled with water darker than the night itself. She did not speak at first, only studied Elara, her gaze cutting through layers of doubt and power like stock cloth.

“You carry the curse willingly,” she finally said. “That makes you either very brave—or very doomed.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Elara murmured.

“No one asks,” the Oracle said. “But still, the world demands.”

She waved a hand over the washbowl, and the water stirred. Visions formed. Flames licking temple walls. Wolves howling beneath crimson skies. Elara… standing alone, her hands soaked in blood not her own.

“The prophecy speaks of sacrifice,” the Oracle said. “But it never said, whose.”

Behind them, Lysander watched closely.

“There is another truth,” he said, breaking the silence. “One you haven’t been told.”

Elara turned slowly.

Lysander stepped toward her, holding something in his hand. A medallion etched with the same markings that had flashed on the altar during her blood-vision. “This belonged to your mother.”

Elara froze.

“You lie,” Lerder growled, shouting loudly.

“She was part of the first circle,” Lysander continued, ignoring him. “She helped bind the prophecy when it first bled into the world. And she made sure her bloodline would one day hold the key to unbinding it.”

Elara reached out, her fingers brushing the medallion—and was struck by a sudden rush of memory not her own. A woman cloaked in white flames. A whisper in the dark: “Protect the child. She is the answer, and the blade.”

She gasped, stumbling back.

Lerder caught her, but she looked past him, straight into Lysander’s eyes. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I’ve paid for my sins,” he said, almost gently. “And I don’t intend to see history repeat itself.”

That night, tension hung like a storm waiting to break. Fury and tension filled the atmosphere.

Lerder walked along the sanctuary walls, every step a silent war. Elara found herself alone beneath the starlight near the carved edge of the sacred pool. Lysander approached, slow and deliberate.

“She trusts you,” Lerder said behind them, emerging from the shadows. “But I don’t.”

“Wise,” Lysander said. “I wouldn’t trust you either.”

Lerder’s first disconnected with his brother’s jaw before Elara could move.

Lysander barely pulled back. “Still the impulsive pup.”

“Still the traitor,” Lerder spat. “If you hurt her—if this is another game—”

“I don’t want her hurt,” Lysander said, wiping blood from his lip. “But I will do what needs to be done.”

“I feel like eating… and you know what I take, but I will not hit her, at least not today,” Lysander said.

That was the warning and assurance Lysander and Lerder gave each other.

The next morning, Elara awoke to the sanctuary’s wards screaming. Magic shattered across the stone, throwing sparks of silver light into the air.

“Lerder… Lerder… Lerder were are” Elara calling.

Lerder was gone.

So was Lysander.

And in the center of the hall, carved into the stone, was a single word scorched by dark fire:

‘TRADE.’

Elara’s heart seized.

Sanctuary had become a prison. Betrayal, once a whisper, now rang out like a death bell. And she was running out of time.