Chapter 7 “The Temple Of Truths”

• Kieran P.O.V
• Darkness dragged at my vision as I sprinted through the silver-lit forest, our son warm and trembling in my arms. The echo of her presence clung to the air—her scent, her touch, the ghost of her lips against mine before she faded.
• I could still feel her fingers slipping from mine like the dream had stolen her mid-breath.
• I’ll see you again, she’d whispered.
• And then she was gone.
• But the forest wasn’t done with me.
• Not tonight.
• Not when something hunted the three of us through both realms.
• Shade prowled inside me, restless.
• “The air is shifting. Something ancient is waking.” He says.
• “I know,” I murmured, tightening my hold on the child. “And I’m not letting it touch him.”
• The forest grew colder the deeper I walked. Frost shimmered across fallen leaves. The trees leaned inward, as if forming a corridor of shadows leading me onward.
• My instincts screamed, I was walking toward something important—
• A truth. A warning. A test.
• My son whimpered, and I pressed him closer. “You’re safe. I promise you, you’re safe.”
• The light ahead flickered.
• Then—
• A structure emerged from the silver haze.
• It was larger than I remembered from the fragments of earlier times. Ancient stone walls rose from the earth, carved with runes that glowed faintly, like veins of moonlight. Vines wrapped around pillars and crawled across the entrance, but they didn’t hide it—they guided me toward it.
• Shade inhaled deeply, the sound vibrating through me.
• “This place knows us… remembers us.” He says.
• I swallowed hard. “How can stone remember?”
• “Not stone. Magic. Old magic.” He said.
• My boots scraped softly against the steps as I climbed them, the child held securely in my arms. His tiny fingers curled in my shirt, anchoring me.
• Inside, the temple felt colder.
• Still.
• Listening.
• Symbols lined the walls—spirals, crescents, interlocked lines. I traced one, and it pulsed beneath my fingertips.
• “These match Thane’s sketches…” I murmured.
• But older.
• Deeper.
• His illustrations were only fragments of what this place honestly held.
• Lines and symbols connected into pathways across the murals—some glowing softly, others dimmed, cracked, as though corrupted.
• A cold breeze shuddered through the chamber.
• On a pedestal in the center lay a thin, ancient cloth, embroidered with the pure form of the crescent symbol.
• No slash.
• No corruption.
• Whole.
• The baby reached for it, tiny hand lifting with instinctive recognition, though he didn’t touch it.
• Shade leaned forward in my mind.
• “Blood remembers even when names are lost.” He whispers.
• “Bloodline…” I whispered. “Ours.”
• The air trembled.
• A whisper slid across the chamber—
• Guardian…
• My pulse spiked. “Who’s there?”
• The shadows stirred.
• I shifted my stance, ready to strike if needed, and my son held protectively. “Show yourself!”
• The whisper came again, clearer this time.
• Guardian… you are late.
• My blood ran cold.
• That voice—
• It wasn’t familiar, yet my bones reacted as if it were something I should have known long ago.
• A harsh scrape echoed from behind a cracked pillar.
• Something crawled forward.
• A twisted shape. Jerky. Wrong.
• Corrupted crescents burned black onto its wrists, glowing like infected wounds.
• Its form convulsed, limbs bending at angles that defied natural movement.
• The child tensed in my arms.
• Shade snarled. “Corrupted. Rotting from the inside. Prepare yourself.”
• The creature lunged.
• I twisted just in time, clutching the baby tightly while driving my shoulder into the creature’s torso. It screeched, claws swiping through the air where my neck had been.
• Pain flared along my arm, warm and sharp—
• It had grazed me.
• Rage flared hot.
• I struck fast—
• A knee to its ribs, a twist of its limb until bone snapped, a slam of my elbow into its throat.
• But instead of dying, it laughed—a broken, fractured sound.
• The corrupted mark on its wrist pulsed violently.
• Its voice gurgled out, words shaking like stones in a jar:
• “ThE gAtE… UnGuArDeD…”
• My stomach dropped.
• It clawed toward the pedestal, toward the pure symbol.
• “No—”
• I crushed its throat with my palm.
• Its body dissolved into black, oily smoke that slithered across the floor before evaporating.
• Silence fell again.
• Only the baby’s frightened cries filled the temple.
• I pulled him close, pressing my cheek to his warm head. “I’m here. I’ve got you. Nothing’s touching you again.”
• Shade’s voice was quieter now. “…Kieran. This place wasn’t shown to us by accident. It’s a message.”
• “A warning?”
• “A beginning.” He says.
• I exhaled shakily. “Then we need to remember everything we saw.”
• The murals.
• The symbols.
• The pure crescent.
• The corrupted one.
• The whisper calling me guardian.
• All of it.
• Because something told me this dream wasn’t a dream at all.
• Suddenly, the temple flickered.
• The ground rolled beneath my feet.
• The child clung to me, crying harder as the world rippled like water was about to break.
• “No—no, hold on—”
• Light burst from the murals, blinding white that swallowed the room whole.
• The cloth on the pedestal disintegrated into shimmering dust.
• The voice whispered one last time—
• Find her.
• Then darkness tore me backward—
• And I fell.
• I shot upright in bed, gasping.
• My room was dim, illuminated only by the faint light slipping through the curtains. My heart hammered in my chest, as if I had run miles. Sweat dripped down my neck. My arm burned as if something had sliced into it.
• I looked down.
• My skin burned with a faint imprint—
• A smudge of silver.
• A dusting that shimmered.
• Right where the baby’s hand had rested.
• Shade stepped forward in my mind, voice grave. “The dream followed us.”
• My breath caught.
• There, on my forearm—
• A faint outline of the crescent symbol pulsed with each heartbeat.
• Not corrupted.
• Not broken.
• Pure.
• Whole.
• And alive.
• “Kieran…” Shade whispered, “She carries the hunted mark. You carry the guardian’s.”
• I stared at the glowing outline, realization crashing through me:
• We are not dreaming anymore.
• The realms are bleeding together.
• The Gate is stirring.
• And she—my mate—is in danger closer than I ever imagined.
• I stood, my breath unsteady.
• “I’m not losing her,” I whispered into the empty room. “Or our son.”
• Shade growled with agreement, low and fierce. “Then we find her.”
• “And when the Gate opens,” I murmured, “I’ll be ready.”
• © 2025 Blessed Be. All rights reserved.
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