Lyralei led the way, her stride steady even as the wind howled through the northern wastes. She held her tome tightly under her arm, and her eyes swept the horizon with the attention of a scholar, as if she could see clues that no one else could.
Finnian followed her slowly, his breath fogging up in the cold air. His blade strapped to his back was a continuous reminder of Gareth's last gift.
Seraphina followed, her hands wrapped around her, and with each passing hour, her countenance grew more doubtful.
There were no trees or other landmarks in the terrain, just a wide area of snow and rock.
Finnian's legs ached, his fingers numb despite his gloves. To him, the journey felt like an eternity, each step sinking into the snow with no end in sight. He glanced at Seraphina, hoping for reassurance, but her attention was fixed on Lyralei, her brow furrowed.
Finally, Lyralei stopped abruptly, her boots crunching in the snow. She turned, a faint smile on her lips. "We're here."
Finnian and Seraphina gazed at each other and then around. The wastes went on and on in every direction, desolate, windy, and completely empty. There was no temple, no structure, and not even a trace of civilization. Just snow and silence.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed, her voice sharp. "Lyralei, what is this? If you're joking, I'm not in the mood."
Lyralei's smile faded, but she stood her ground. "I am not joking. We have arrived. "This is the place."
Finnian shifted uncomfortably, clutching the strap of his pack. "Lyralei, there's nothing here. Are you sure you read the map right?"
"I don't need a map," Lyralei said, her tone firm but patient. "I know what I'm doing. The temple is here."
Seraphina's eyes twitched, a sign of her growing agitation. "Here?" she snapped, gesturing at the empty landscape. "You've dragged us through this frozen hell for hours, and now you're telling me this wasteland is our destination? Do you think I'm a fool? If this is some kind of mistake—or worse, a trick—I swear, Lyralei, I'll—"
"Seraphina, calm down," Finnian interjected, stepping between them. His voice was soft but urgent, his hands raised placatingly. "She wouldn't lead us out here for nothing. Let's hear her out."
Lyralei tried to talk, and her hands pointed to the empty space. "It is not what you think. The temple is hidden, protected by ancient wards. If you will just allow me—"
But Seraphina wasn't listening. Her patience, worn thin by the cold and the weight of their situation, snapped.
"Enough!" she shouted, her voice echoing across the wastes. "I trusted you, Lyralei! I let you come with us because you said you knew safe places, and now you've led us to nothing! Do you have any idea what's at stake? Kael Vorthak is out there, and we're standing in the middle of nowhere like sitting ducks!"
Lyralei's face tightened, but instead of arguing, she turned her back on Seraphina, her movements deliberate. She knelt in the snow, her fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air, muttering words in a language Finnian didn't recognize. The air around her seemed to shimmer faintly, but nothing else happened.
Seraphina's eyes blazed with fury. "What are you doing now? Playing with your spells while we freeze?" She took a step forward, her hands glowing with the faint light of magical energy.
Finnian grabbed her arm, his voice urgent. "Seraphina, stop! Give her a chance!"
But before Seraphina could shrug him off, a low hum filled the air and vibrated through the snow underneath them. The area in front of Lyralei rippled, like heat rising from the desert. Then, with a sound reminiscent of shattering ice, a door appeared out of thin air. It was tall and ancient, carved from stone older than any kingdom and adorned with brilliant inscriptions that pulsed in rhythm with Lyralei's chants. Beyond it, a faint glow hinted to a structure hidden beneath the illusion of empty wastelands.
Seraphina froze, her anger evaporating as she stared at the door.
Finnian's jaw dropped, his grip on her arm loosening.
Lyralei stood, brushing snow from her knees, and turned to face them, her expression a mix of exhaustion and triumph.
"I told you," she said quietly. "The temple is here. Hidden, just as I said."
Seraphina's dropped her hand, her face a mixture of chagrin and awe. "I… I didn't think—"
"You didn't trust me," Lyralei finished, her voice gentle but pointed. "But I understand. This place—it's protected by wards older than any of us. Only those who know the signs can find it. We're safe here, for now."
Finnian stepped toward the door, his eyes wide with wonder. "You knew this was here the whole time? How?"
Lyralei's lips quirked in a small smile. "Years of study. The ancients built these sanctuaries to hide from threats like Kael Vorthak. I've been piecing together their locations since I was a novice. This one's the closest, and it's strong enough to shield us while we figure out what's next."
Seraphina exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. "I owe you an apology, Lyralei. I shouldn't have doubted you."
Lyralei waved a hand dismissively. "You're under pressure. We all are. Let's just get inside before we freeze."
Finnian nodded, still staring at the door. "What's in there?"
"Safety," Lyralei said simply. "And answers, I hope. Come on."
She stepped forward, placing a hand on the stone door. The runes flared brighter, and with a low groan, the door swung inward, revealing a warm, golden light within. The trio exchanged a glance, their earlier tension replaced by a shared sense of purpose. Together, they crossed the threshold, leaving the cold wastes behind as the door sealed shut, hiding them from the world—and from the hunter who pursued them.