From high above, Cardella sprawled like a scar carved into the earth.
The streets still bore the black stains where fire had rolled, and the cracked rooftops where talons had struck, but the city still stood.
To the east of Cardella, the land rose sharply into three mountain peaks, forming a natural wall of stone as old as the city itself.
Jagged sentinels, standing shoulder to shoulder, their slopes catching the morning light.
Waterfalls poured from their cliffs, crashing into the valley below. Their waters split into rivers that flowed through Cardella, feeding fountains, fields, and homes before spilling south and north.
And perched on the middle peak - the one whose summit was forever veiled in cloud – was the Church of Liora high above the waterfalls.
It was less a building and more a citadel of faith, carved from the mountain itself. With its white marble walls, veined with real gold caught the sunrise, painting it in blinding radiance.
Dozens of open balconies jutted from the structure, their arches open to the mountain winds.
Fresh air drifted through, carrying birdsong and the cold bite of cloud-mist into the church's corridors.
From the colonnades, one could see all of Cardella sprawling below, its rooftops spread like a patchwork quilt at the mountain's feet.
Inside, incense curled from iron braziers vaulted to the walls, where frescoes showed heroes of old marching and striking down evil under Liora's guidance.
The air inside was rich with tranquillity and the scent of incense.
And at its heart, deep within its gilded halls, was the High Priest's Office.
Unlike the open sanctuaries, it was a place of privacy with only a single tall window overlooking the slopes, allowing dawnlight to fall in fractured brilliance behind the Priest's chair.
From there, he could look down upon Cardella - the city, the people, the battlefield - all of it as the goddess's chosen one.
And behind his marble desk, the High Priest of Liora sat draped in white and gold.
His frame was sunken with age, yet his presence filled the chamber more than the incense ever could.
Lines of age cut deep into his face, but his pale blue eyes still held the clarity that time could never dim.
He listened without interruption as Serenya stood before him in armor still crusted with soot and blood, her voice steady despite the exhaustion in her eyes as she reported on the previous night.
"So…", he said at last, his voice low and smooth, "You are telling me it wasn't your prayer that placed the goddess's blessing upon him…"
His arches a single eyebrow, though that faint and easy smile never left his lips. "…but the goddess herself came forward?"
Serenya straightened in place.
She could still feel the heat of that moment, the sudden surge of light that had overtaken Odin before her own words had even finished.
She swallowed once before answering.
"Yes, my lord. I had only just begun the invocation when - "
"Odin… " he said, "Interesting..."
The High Priest leaned forward, his smile widening by a fraction.
The incense haze curled around him, catching his pale blue eyes in a strange shimmer.
He tapped a finger once against the desk, then rose to his feet with a grace that belied his years, his robes whispering against the floor as he turned.
"Follow me."
Serenya blinked, caught between confusion and obedience. "My lord?"
"Come," he said again, more softly this time, as though coaxing rather than commanding.
Yet the weight in his tone left no room for refusal.
She bowed her head and stepped in behind him, her boots echoing faintly against the marble floor.
The chamber door opened without sound, spilling them into the long corridors of the high sanctum.
While Serenya walked a step behind him, her brows knitting.
She knew these halls as well as her own heartbeat - they were on the path to the Sacred Library.
It lay not within the Church, but farther along the mountainside.
A separate sanctum, reached only by a marble bridge that curved out over the cliffs.
What unsettled her wasn't the destination.
It was the faint glint of amusement that had lit his eyes when she spoke Odin's name.
But the High Priest said nothing more.
And soon they passed out of the enclosed corridors into the open air.
The mountain winds rushed past them as they walked, carrying mist from waterfalls that quenched the thirst of Cardella's half-million people.
And just a bit ahead, perched against the cliff face, the Sacred Library rose in tiers of pale stone and gold-veined marble, its domes gleaming above the forested slope.
Balconies and arched windows breathed opened to light while trees clung to the terraces as their branches spilled white blossoms over the balustrades.
The whole structure seemed less built than coaxed into harmony with the mountain itself.
And soon, the High Priest led her beneath its arching threshold - into the Sacred Library.
Even from the threshold, the air felt different here - cooler, sharper, thick with the perfume of blooming flowers, the faint tang of incense, and the dry musk of old parchment.
Sunlight poured in through towering windows shaped like petals, falling across rows upon rows of shelves carved from blackwood and inlaid with gold.
Every arch, every pillar gleamed with reverence, the ceiling painted with frescoes of the goddess descending through starlight, her hand outstretched to mortals below.
While the High Priest did not pause.
His robes whispered along the floor wit confident steps.
As the door opened, the hush inside wrapped around them instantly, muting even the roar of the falls outside.
Marble underfoot gleamed like still water, while the scent of parchment and incense hung heavy in the air.
Shelves rose in perfect order along the walls, their blackwood frames catching threads of sunlight from the high arched windows.
The High Priest did not linger in there either.
His steps carried them past aisles and alcoves where acolytes bowed deep as he passed, and into the heart of the sanctum until the great spiral stair revealed itself at the center.
Serenya followed close behind, her own boots echoing too loudly in her ears.
As they crossed into the spiral stairwell at the center, her gaze rose instinctively upward.
Five tiers spiraled above her, each one lined with balconies and shelves, each more heavily warded than the last.
The lamps on the higher levels burned with pale blue flame - everlight, and untouched by smoke or time.
Every cleric knew what each floor meant.
The first and second - open to acolytes, filled with transcriptions, sermons, and lesser commentaries.
The third—accessible only to ordained priests, containing theological treatises, debates, and fragments salvaged from the Age of Gods.
The fourth—reserved for the church's senior clergy. The place of true power, of secrets too sharp for the common flock.
As the Commander of the Knights of Liora, Serenya had access to the fourth.
And then the fabled fifth.
The one no one spoke of aloud.
Her heart clenched as the High Priest's steady steps carried them upward.
Past the second, past the third, past the familiar threshold of the fourth.
When they reached the top landing, her breath stalled.
Two sentries stood guard before the golden door.
They were not men.
Golems - massive things of stone and silver, their eyes glowing with the pale fire of eternity.
Carved sigils ran across their shoulders, and arms thick as columns.
It was said these sentries had been placed by the goddess herself, and since then they had stood guard, untouched by decay or time.
Their heads turned in unison as the High Priest approached.
The grinding of stone echoing like thunder in the hushed library.
For a moment, Serenya's body wanted to freeze, to bow, or maybe even run from the sheer presure their very presence.
But she forced herself still, even as her heartbeat thundered like a storm.
The High Priest offered them nothing - not a gesture, not a word.
He simply walked on.
And the golems stepped aside, revealing the door to the highest sanctum of the Sacred Library.
[This is it… The day everyone dreams of…]