Mira returned to the ruins at dusk.
She had told no one.
The conversation with her parents had left her raw, her mind a storm of thoughts. If they had always known, why had they stayed silent? Why had they never told her what she was?
The answer was clear: they had wanted to protect her.
But now, protection was no longer an option.
The temple ruins stood before her, waiting. This time, she felt the weight of the past pressing against her shoulders—not as a burden, but as a pull, drawing her forward.
She stepped inside.
The fire at the altar flickered to life.
Then—movement.
Not shadows. Not the adversary.
The Keepers.
They emerged from the edges of the temple, their figures half-formed, like reflections on water. More than ghosts. Less than flesh.
Mira exhaled sharply.
“You came back,” one of them said. Their voice was layered—like many voices speaking at once, ancient and knowing.
“I need answers,” Mira said, stepping closer. “Who are you?”
The tallest of the figures—the one who had spoken before—inclined their head. “We are the Keepers of this temple. Once, we were the guardians of the sacred light, the memory of She Who Was Forgotten.”
Mira’s breath caught.
She had felt that presence, the remnants of something divine. “The Goddess,” she whispered.
The Keepers nodded.
“She was not always forgotten,” another voice spoke, softer this time. “There was a time when her name was sung in every home, when the hearth and the temple were one and the same. We tended to her light, ensuring it never dimmed.”
Mira looked toward the fire, watching the way it danced, as though alive. “And then?”
A silence stretched, thick with sorrow.
“And then,” the first Keeper said, “the world changed.”
Mira frowned. “Changed how?”
“The balance was broken. An adversary rose, not in form, but in belief. A force that sought to erase her—to rewrite what had been known. To sever the thread that bound the people to her light.”
The flames wavered, dimming as if in mourning.
“We tried to stop it,” another Keeper said, their voice distant. “But when the world forgets, even gods grow silent.”
A chill ran through Mira. “But she’s not gone.”
“No,” the tallest Keeper said, eyes settling on her. “Because you are here.”
The fire flared suddenly, burning brighter than before. The temple walls seemed to hum with energy, as if awakening from a long slumber.
Mira’s chest tightened. “Why me?”
“You are her last tether,” they said simply. “The last who can restore what was lost.”
Mira’s mind raced. Restore what exactly? The temple? The worship? The belief?
And then the weight of it hit her all at once.
The adversary wasn’t just some ancient force. It was still here. Still watching.
Still waiting.
The Keepers saw the realization on her face. “You are not ready,” they said. “But you must be.”
Mira swallowed hard. “How?”
The fire flickered again, casting deep shadows along the walls. The air grew heavy, charged with something unseen.
The Keepers stepped back.
And that’s when she felt it.
The presence.
Something shifting just beyond the firelight.
