The Temple of the Eternal Flame maintained its sacred rhythms even in the deepest hours of night. Steam hissed through volcanic vents, crystals hummed their eternal songs, and robed figures padded through corridors on bare feet, tending to duties that never ceased. Brother Aldwin had walked these halls for three years, carrying his cleaning supplies and polishing cloths, invisible to scholars and acolytes who saw only another servant maintaining their pristine sanctuary.
Tonight, however, Brother Aldwin carried something far more valuable than soap and rags.
"The healing chambers need fresh linens," Naomi told the young acolyte stationed outside Ashley's room, her voice pitched to the exact tone of authority she'd perfected during her time as Nessa. She'd traded her temple robes for servant's clothing—brown wool that made her blend into the shadows between crystal sconces. "Sister Miren specifically requested the Vaelthorne silk. Something about the patient's delicate condition."
