The golden gate leading to the highest floor of the Sacred Library loomed tall.
Etched in no symbols, no words, it was just a polished surface that gleamed with its own light.
It wasn't an entrance so much as a veil, a sheet of white brilliance stretched thin across reality.
The High Priest didn't slow.
He stepped into it, calm and unhurried, before his figure was swallowed by the glow until nothing remained.
No ripple, no sound.
While Serenya stood frozen, her clammy palms balled into fists.
[This is it…]
Every priest in Cardella whispered about this place, every novice dreamed of it, every acolyte craned their neck for just a glimpse.
The fifth floor.
The sanctum where the goddess herself had once walked.
Her heart thudded so hard she thought the golems might hear.
Seading herself, she drew a sharp breath, and squared her shoulders before stepping forward into the veil of white light.
And it swallowed her whole as well.
It wasn't hot or cold, not burning or soothing - just absolute.
Her sight was instantly drowned in white, sound stripped away until there was nothing but the pounding in her chest.
And then, as if the world had been unpaused, the whiteness thinned.
And wood creaked under her boots.
Before her eyes blinked wide at the room around her.
Not a hall of gold, or a cathedral of crystal came into view.
But a study.
The floor was wooden, worn smooth with age, every step giving a soft groan.
Shelves lined the walls, not towering like the lower floors but humble, their spines filled with books of every size and color.
While the scent of paper and cedar clung to the air.
Sunlight poured in through the windows, cutting warm beams across the floor, lighting up dust motes in their glow, as they drifted unbothered by time.
At the far end of the chamber sat a wide table, its surface cluttered with parchment, quills, and old ink bottles as though time itself had paused there.
Behind it, a high-backed chair rested before a window's glow, as though waiting for the one meant to sit there.
The place felt less like the top of a holy library and more like a lodge tucked away in the mountains.
It felt intimate, like a room where someone had worked, thought, and lived.
Serenya's lips parted, but no words came.
This was the highest floor of the Sacred Library.
And it was nothing like what she - or anyone - had ever imagined.
The High Priest caught the look on Serenya's face and let out a soft chuckle.
"When I first stepped in here with the late High Priest Nafos," he said, his tone gentle, almost nostalgic, "he told me I looked like someone had stolen my sweets… Now I see exactly what he meant."
Heat rushed to Serenya's cheeks as she lowered her gaze for a moment in embarrassment, before daring to look at him again.
While he went on, his eyes drifting over the shelves and beams with reverence.
"This floor… is her personal study. Our Holiness's own sanctuary… or at least it used to be, when she still walked the mortal realm."
"I have no words to express how honoured I feel, Your Highness… but -"
"I wanted to show you something." His voice cut through hers, calm but heavy with intent.
He turned, robes brushing against the wooden floor, and reached for one of the shelves.
His hand stopped at a modest-looking volume wedged between thicker tomes.
And with absolute care, he drew it free.
Opening it up to a marked page he turned toward her.
"Serenya, you must never speak of what I am about to show you," he said, his voice low. "Not to anyone. Not even to me afterwards."
Her breath hitched.
Still, she stepped forward.
Each pace felt deliberate and too loud in her ears.
She caught herself walking lightly, as if she dared not disturb the floorboards of the goddess' chamber with boots that still had blood crusted onto them.
She stopped before him, bowing her head slightly before she gingerly accepted the book with both hands.
The leather cover was cracked with age - the corners worn smooth by time.
The pages inside were yellowed and fragile.
Yet the weight of it in her hands was crushing.
As the High Priest's next words fell, the weight only intensified.
"This," he said, watching her with calm gravity, "is a journal written by Lady Liora herself."
Serenya's eyes went wide.
Her fingers trembled.
The book suddenly felt like it weighed more than her arm could bear.
Her heart hammered in her chest, beating against her ribs like it wanted to escape.
She drew a long breath through her nose, steadying her grip before daring to look at the page he had opened.
"I want you to focus on the second paragraph," the High Priest instructed, his voice quiet but firm.
Serenya nodded once, unable to trust her voice before lowering her eyes to the page and began to read.
The handwriting was the most beautiful she had ever seen - clean, flowing, and precise, with every letter traced with perfection.
But the words…
The more she read, the harder her hands shook.
Her eyes widened until they ached, yet she refused to blink.
While the weight of the book grew heavier with every line.
And then, before she could stop herself, the words tumbled from her lips in a broken whisper that swelled into a gasp.
"Odin… the first hero… and lover?! And… a daughter!"
Her voice cracked into the quiet chamber.
It was as if lightning had struck her body.
Her legs turned to jelly beneath her armor, knees nearly giving way.
She looked up, wide-eyed, at the High Priest as though her own eyes had betrayed her.
He only chuckled softly. "Go on."
Her throat felt dry as she dragged in a breath, then another, before daring to lower her eyes back to the page.
"…Able to strike from vast distances…" Her voice wavered. "…has a mouth bigger than the sky?"
Her lips pressed tight, half-expecting the words to jumble themselves into something else.
"That part made me think he was a giant god," the High Priest admitted with a laugh under his breath. "My entire thesis about the gods becoming immense and small at will, unbound by the limitations of mortal flesh - well, it was all based on that line."
"I've read it," Serenya murmured, almost absently, mind still reeling.
"I suppose I'll have to rescind it now that…" he sighed with another chuckle, shaking his head.
Her eyes darted back to the page, then up to him. "But… that Odin… they can't be the same."
The High Priest's expression softened, but he didn't answer.
Instead, he extended a hand, palm open for the book.
"Come," he said gently. "I have something else I want to show you."