Chapter 33: The Temple’s Gift

The northern forest looms before them, a vast expanse of ancient trees stretching toward a pewter sky. Giroud pauses, his storm-gray eyes scanning the gloom, searching for any sign of movement or danger. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a heavy silence hanging over the woods.

Rolf has sent them deep into the forests north of Tidehaven to retrieve some midnight lotus. The potions he makes with this will be invaluable to empower Aya for the coming battle.

“This is the place,” he murmurs, his deep voice cutting through the stillness.

They lead their horse into the forest, the animals’ hooves crunching on the carpet of fallen leaves. Giroud’s senses heightened and alert as Aya walks beside him with a quiet confidence, her body radiating a sense of purpose.

As they adventure further, the trees grow thicker, their twisted branches reaching overhead like gnarled fingers. The air grows colder, the light filtering through the canopy casting an eerie glow. Giroud can feel the weight of the forest pressing in around them, a palpable sense of ancient power lurking in the shadows.

“There,” Aya says, her voice barely above a whisper as she points to a crack in the distant wall of stone. Giroud nods, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the sight of the crumbling structure.

He ties the horse and they approach the entrance, the sound of their boots echoing on the worn steps. Giroud pauses, his gaze sweeping the area, searching for any signs of danger.

“Stay close,” he murmurs, lighting a torch. The flickering flame casts dancing shadows on the damp walls as they descend into the darkness.

The air grows colder with each step, the damp chill seeping into their bones. Giroud’s eyes narrow, his senses on high alert. Something is not right here.

“What does this flower look like again?” Aya asks.

“A large six-leafed clover. Purplish. Maybe black. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Suddenly, a skittering sound echoes from the shadows behind them. Giroud’s hand flies to the hilt of his sword, his muscles tensing in preparation.

The attack comes swift and silent – pale, eyeless creatures dropping from the ceiling, their elongated limbs and sharp claws marking them as cave dwellers, adapted to the eternal darkness. Their skin is translucent, showing dark veins beneath, and their lipless mouths reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth. Each creature moves with an unnatural, spider-like grace, their joints bending in ways that seem wrong to the eye.

Giroud’s sword sings as he draws it, the blade flashing in the torchlight as he strikes the first creature across the chest. It’s lame form crumpling to the ground in a heap.

A series of high-pitched clicks echo through the chamber, bouncing off the stone walls. Giroud’s grip tightens on his sword as the sound multiplies, coming from all directions. The creatures are communicating, coordinating their attack.

The clicking grows closer, more insistent. His muscles tense as he positions himself between the threats and Aya. The torch in his left hand casts wild shadows that dance across the dripping walls, making it impossible to get an accurate count of their attackers.

A whispered incantation breaks through the darkness behind him. Giroud feels the hair on his neck stand up as dark energy crackles through the air. A sphere of shadow materializes in front of Aya, pulsing with an otherworldly purple glow that helps to illuminate the vast chamber. The light reaches to every corner, revealing the true scale of the ancient hallway - its vaulted ceiling stretching up into darkness, massive stone pillars marching into the gloom.

The purple radiance exposes their attackers - half a dozen pale, eyeless forms clinging to the walls and ceiling like spiders. Their elongated limbs and sharp claws gleam wetly in the magical light.

“Behind us!” Aya’s urgent whisper cuts through his focus. Giroud starts to turn, but keeps his main attention on the creatures ahead. He trusts Aya to handle what she’s spotted - she’s proven herself capable time and again.

Beside him, Aya moves with practiced grace, her dagger finding vital points with deadly accuracy. Giroud can see the focus in her eyes, the concentration etched into her features as she dances around her foe, her movements fluid and efficient.

“The crack in the wall,” Giroud calls out between strikes, “go!”

They fight their way across the vast chamber, the creatures pressing in from all sides. There’s at least a dozen now emerging. Aya reaches the crack first, squeezing through the narrow opening while Giroud holds their attackers at bay.

“Giroud!” Her voice echoes back, “It’s here!”

Giroud backs toward the crack, his sword keeping the pale hunters at bay. With one fluid motion, he slips through the opening, finding himself in a smaller chamber illuminated by phosphorescent fungi.

And there, in the corners of the room, grew clusters of Midnight Lotus, their petals the color of twilight, seeming to absorb the light around them. Each six-petaled flower pulses with a subtle, dark energy, their centers as black as a starless night. The stems are an impossible shade of purple-black, and the air around them feels thick with untapped power.

“Beautiful,” Aya breathes, her eyes wide with wonder as she carefully cuts the stems.

A screech from the crack reminds them of their predicament. “Hurry,” Giroud urges, positioning himself between Aya and the opening; the cave dwellers done waiting for them to re-emerge.

The first creature tries to squeeze through, meeting the point of Giroud’s sword. Another attempts to follow, forcing him to step back, his muscles straining with the effort.

“Got them!” Aya announces, securing the precious flowers in her leather pouch.

“Good. Now we run.”

They burst back through the crack, Giroud taking the lead as they sprint across the main chamber. The creatures pursue, their inhuman shrieks echoing off the stone walls.

Giroud’s measured strides carry him forward, his gaze fixed on the exit. Aya is close behind him, effortlessly agile as she darts between the towering pillars.

As they near the entrance, Aya stumbles, her foot catching on a loose stone. Giroud reacts without thinking, scooping her up with his free arm and carrying her up the steps two at a time. They burst into the daylight, the creatures shrieking in frustration as they retreat back into the dark.

Giroud moves up the last steps to the grass, both of them breathing hard. “Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice laced with concern as he sinks to his knees holding Aya in both arms.