Inside the ancient temple, time felt suspended. The air was thick with incense and tension. Torches burned blue on the walls, casting elongated shadows that danced like spirits watching from the beyond. In the chamber was a cathedral of stone—soaring columns carved with creatures long extinct, light filtering in from high windows that had not seen the sun in millennia. In the center, atop an obsidian pedestal, sat a crystal crown, glittering like captured starlight.
At the heart of the chamber, beneath a dome of carved stone, a grand ceremony was underway. A crystalline throne stood at the center, and atop it, nestled in runed silk, rested a crown made entirely of shimmering crystal—clear as water, sharp as truth. A high priest with a face like cracked porcelain held it up with reverence.
One by one, beings stepped forward to try it on.
Elves with radiant skin. Mages in armor woven from threads of thought. Celestial beings with wings of starlight. Each participant placed the crown on their head with solemnity and silent hope.
Each time, the high priest raised his hand and his voice echoed like thunder inside every mind:
"Not chosen."
Then the next.
"Not chosen."
Again.
"Not chosen."
Philip and Frank watched from behind a pillar in the outer ring of the chamber, unseen, unnoticed. Frank and Philip stood just beyond the arc of light, hidden behind a crumbling column. Frank's breath caught in his throat as he spotted her—Athena—draped in ceremonial garb, gold patterns glowing faintly across her robe. She looked regal. Detached. And dangerous.
Frank's eyes kept darting toward Athena, who stood near the priest, her face unreadable.
Philip leaned toward him. "She's part of this. You were dating someone you didn't even know."
But Frank barely heard him.
His focus shifted when he noticed something strange: the beastfolk weren't participating. Dozens of them—minotaurs, scaled warriors, lion-men, and werecreatures—stood behind a magical barrier. Their eyes weren't just watching—they were burning.
"They're being excluded," Frank muttered.
A snarl rose from the crowd. A voice—deep, guttural—cut through the ritual:
"We found this temple too. We bled to uncover it. We will not be denied again."
A rumble of agreement followed. Horns clashed. Claws scraped stone.
Frank leaned closer to Philip. "They're talking about her family. Athena's bloodline is part of this, isn't it?"
Philip didn't respond. His attention was on the beastfolk, who now began stepping forward—uninvited.
The high priest's voice cracked like a whip: "No beasts may be tested!"
The high priest raised his hand. "You have no claim. The pact—"
"The pact died with the Ancient Dragon!" roared a lion-headed warlord.