Chapter 63 - Grass and ruin

  Lilia walked slow circles through the grass, trying to organize her thoughts.

  She paused.

  Then she looked out again—

  across the seemingly endless stretch of grass and pale ruins scattered along the horizon.

  “Do they all look like this?” she asked quietly.

  She turned toward Ryn.

  He was doing the same thing, scanning the distance, eyes narrowed, searching for something that wasn’t there.

  Ryn shook his head slightly.

  “Every trial is different,” he said. “It’s hard to say.”

  Then, after a moment—

  “But this is… strange.”

  It was strange.

  So far, there had been no immediate danger.

  No monsters. No traps. No looming threat—

  aside from the six blazing suns overhead.

  It almost felt peaceful.

  Ryn shifted his grip on his sword. “We should move.”

  Lilia nodded.

  She walked slowly, her eyes drifting over the strange landscape as they moved.

  Ryn led. Lilia followed closely. Ariel trailed a few steps behind

  White stone structures rose from the grass at irregular intervals—broken walls, half-collapsed pillars. The grass bent easily beneath their steps, warm even at the roots

  The pale stone looked sun-bleached, but when she brushed her fingers against it, the surface was cold—unnaturally so.

  Her brows furrowed.

  She knew a little about trials—at least from the stories she’d heard and the books she’d read. Tales of endless labyrinths, burning castles, and brave heroes who emerged triumphant. She knew enough to guess most of those stories were exaggerated—but exaggeration still came from somewhere.

  And really, who didn’t know about trials?

  Kingdoms glorified them endlessly. Victories were celebrated, recorded, and paraded through history books—because a successful trial meant power. Stronger military forces. Divine rewards. Prestige. That was why trial expeditions were always registered, approved by higher authorities, and planned meticulously long before anyone ever set foot inside one.

  Solvara had never done that.

  Lilia’s steps slowed as the thought settled in.

  She hadn’t even known there was a trial within its borders.

  But… it made sense.

  Solvara’s military had always been weak. Its walls kept it isolated. Registering a trial expedition would have been nearly impossible—and even if they had tried, they didn’t have the power to challenge one properly.

  Most of what Lilia had heard about trials involved brutality. Endless fighting. Impossible tests.

  Yet this place—

  It didn’t feel like that.

  She glanced at another cluster of pale ruins, then at the open grass between them. No traps. No monsters. No immediate threat.

  Her steps slowed further.

  Based on the location alone, it was safe to assume this trial was built in favor of the sun god. The murals in the temple supported that. Every symbol, every carving—it all pointed to Sol.

  A celestial trial.

  It was common knowledge that a trial’s difficulty—and its reward—were shaped heavily by the god who governed it.

  And right now, they were walking through a trial belonging to one of the highest-ranking gods in existence.

  Her frown deepened.

  Not only that—

  The voice had said many gods were watching.

  As they walked, Lilia’s gaze drifted sideways—to Ariel.

  She was a few steps behind, staring into the grass, expression distant, almost hollow.

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  Lilia quickly looked away when Ariel shifted, her chest tightening.

  The reason so many gods were watching was obvious.

  Ariel.

  The newest apostle of a celestial.

  What god wouldn’t want to watch her struggle?

  But still—

  Many.

  Lilia slowed to a stop without realizing it.

  A shiver crawled up her spine.

  She could almost feel eyes pressing against her skin.

  It should have been a good thing. With this many gods watching, if they survived, at least one of them would likely leave with a new blessing.

  If they survived.

  Her brows knit tighter.

  No.

  We have to survive.

  “But how…?” she murmured.

  A hand suddenly rested on her shoulder.

  She jumped back with a small gasp, heart leaping into her throat, then turned—

  Ariel stood there, hand still hovering in the space between them.

  For a heartbeat, neither moved.

  “Are you okay?” Ariel asked.

  “You’ve been staring at the horizon for a few minutes.”

  Lilia blinked, then looked away quickly, scratching the back of her neck.

  “Ah—really? Sorry,” she said, forcing a small laugh.

  Ariel’s gaze dropped to the ground. She nodded once.

  An awkward silence settled in

  Ryn stopped ahead of them, his silhouette dark against the pale stone.

  "Found something," he called back.

  Ariel's gaze lifted briefly, then dropped again.

  She said quietly, breaking the silence between them. "We should take a look," she said quietly.

  Lilia nodded slowly.

  The two of them walked in silence until they reached Ryn.

  His brows were drawn together tightly, his attention fixed on something ahead.

  His good hand remained gripped around his sword

  “Lilia,” he said, stepping aside slightly. “Take a look at this.”

  “Uh… sure.” She moved closer, following his gaze—

  And froze.

  Before her stood a familiar white stone temple.

  It looked almost identical to the one they had entered before—the same structure, the same design—but something was wrong. The upper floors and basement were simply gone—as if someone had sliced the building horizontally and dropped only the middle section here. The stone was cracked, eroded, and far more weathered than it should have been.

  Older.

  Much older.

  More ruined than the temple outside the trial ever was.

  “That… doesn’t make sense,” Lilia whispered.

  Ryn didn't answer. He stepped closer, eyes tracing the doorframe, checking for traps, triggers—anything that might explain why this place existed.

  Finding nothing obvious, he nodded once.

  “Let’s check the inside,” he said.

  Ariel and Lilia hesitated.

  Then, seeing no other option, nodded.

  The sight beyond the doorway was even stranger than the outside.

  The moment they stepped inside, the air changed—cooler, stale, tasting of dust and centuries.

  It was identical to the inner chamber of the original temple—but stripped down.

  There were no hallways. No branching paths.

  Only the central space remained: the same number of columns, the same raised dais at the center.

  But the dais was wrong.

  The familiar symbols that had once glowed with divine light were gone. The stone was bare, cracked, and dull.

  And that wasn’t even the strangest part.

  Bones littered the floor.

  They were scattered everywhere, piled unevenly across the stone, but they weren’t human. Their shapes were too warped, too elongated, twisted in ways that made Lilia’s stomach turn.

  Aberration bones.

  Lilia shivered.

  There were so many of them she couldn’t even begin to imagine how many aberrations had once filled this place. And yet, the bones were old—bleached, brittle with age.

  Ryn crouched near one of the skulls—warped, elongated, wrong.

  They weren’t formed from relics.

  If their remains had lasted this long, then whatever they had been in life must have been on an entirely different level.

  The bones alone were unsettling—but what lay among them was worse.

  Scattered between the remains were countless objects: rusted weapons, torn journals, brittle scrolls, scraps of aged cloth.

  And near the base of the dais—

  There was a cart.

  A very familiar-looking cart.

  Lilia whispered, barely able to breathe,

  “…No way.”

  She took a step toward the cart, drawn to it without really thinking—

  —but Ariel reached it first.

  It was the same.

  Ariel reached inside, fingers brushing past objects she recognized—

  The knife Lilia had used to prepare their meals. The cloth they'd slept on. Ryn's broken armor straps.

  All of it aged. Rotted. Wrong.

  Then she stopped.

  She pulled out a necklace.

  Gold. Simple. Familiar.

  She pressed it tightly to her chest, fingers curling around it like an anchor.

  Lilia moved closer now, heart pounding.

  Everything was still there.

  The scraps of cloth.

  The makeshift supplies.

  Cooking tools.

  Even remnants of food—rotted now, sour with age, but unmistakably theirs.

  The sight hit her like a blow.

  This wasn’t just strange.

  It wasn’t a coincidence.

  Lilia couldn’t even begin to imagine how something like this was possible.

  Ryn approached slowly from behind them, eyes scanning the chamber one last time.

  “This place…” he muttered.

  “…keeps making less sense.”