Mira had expected ruins—forgotten halls buried under vines and silence, much like the temple where this had all begun. But what she found was something else entirely.
The Sanctuary of the Ainurim lay hidden deep within the cliffs, veiled by mist and magic. A vast stone citadel, carved into the mountainside as though it had grown from the rock itself, loomed before them. Its high walls bore ancient reliefs of battles fought in another age—warriors wielding flame and shadow, celestial symbols intertwining with forgotten script.
As they approached, the great doors groaned open.
“How do they know we’re here?” Mira whispered.
“They always know,” Vasushrava murmured.
A dozen figures awaited them inside, their cloaks embroidered with the sigil of the goddess—the same missing emblem from Mira’s amulet. Their faces were worn by time and hardship, but their eyes burned with something ageless.
The one in front stepped forward. An imposing woman with silver-threaded hair, her gaze sharp as a blade.
“You bring strangers to our gates, Vasushrava,” she said, voice low but steady. “You swore never to return.”
“I swore never to return without hope,” he answered. “Now, I bring you the one we’ve waited for.”
The woman’s gaze flickered to Mira.
“Show me,” she said.
Mira hesitated, then reached for the amulet around her neck, lifting it into the torchlight. A murmur rippled through the gathered warriors. Some whispered in disbelief, others in reverence. The silver-haired woman stepped closer, eyes narrowing at the empty slot where the sacred stone once sat.
“This was lost,” she murmured. “How did you come to possess it?”
Mira cast a quick glance at Vasushrava, then answered, “He gave it to me. His family kept it safe for generations, entrusted by the last High Priestess.”
A flicker of recognition crossed the woman’s face. “Then the line was not broken,” she whispered, almost to herself.
Chitrangada, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward. “Who are you?” she asked. “What is this place, truly?”
The silver-haired woman straightened, her presence commanding.
“I am Samira, Keeper of the Ainurim,” she said. “And this—this is the last sanctuary of the Goddess’s warriors. Once, we were many, protecting the sacred places of the world. But then… he came.”
A hush fell over the room. The warriors of the Ainurim cast glances at one another, their expressions shadowed by memory.
“Who?” Mira asked.
Samira’s lips pressed into a thin line. “His name is Raedhmar.”
The name sent a shudder through the air. Even the flames in the torches seemed to wane.
“He was once one of us,” Samira continued, voice edged with sorrow. “A protector of the sacred. But something changed within him—some hunger, some thirst for more than was meant to be held by mortal hands. He sought power beyond the Goddess’s light, beyond the balance of the elements. He turned to something older… something that should have remained buried.”
“What did he find?” Mira asked.
“We do not know,” Samira admitted. “But whatever he unearthed, it gave him dominion over shadow. And with it, he turned against us. He did not wage war in the open, not at first. He whispered poison into the hearts of men, sowed doubt, made them question the old ways. He turned our allies into his own, and by the time we realized the extent of his betrayal, it was too late. The temple fell, the Ainurim were scattered, and the sacred relics were lost.”
Her gaze fell upon the amulet in Mira’s hands.
“That is the last piece of what he sought but could never possess.”
Mira’s fingers tightened around the metal. “If he wanted it so badly, why didn’t he take it when he destroyed the temple?”
“Because it was hidden before he arrived,” Vasushrava said. “The High Priestess saw his coming in her visions. She sent the amulet away, entrusting my ancestors with it, so that when the time was right, it would return to the one meant to wield it.”
Mira swallowed. “Me.”
Samira nodded. “You.”
A heavy silence stretched between them.
Then Samira spoke again, her voice softer but no less firm.
“The question now, Mira, is whether you are ready to face him.”
She turned, motioning for them to follow. The Ainurim led them deeper into the sanctuary, where the shadows whispered of old legends, waiting to be remembered.
