“Well...” Nero begins to reply, scratching the back of his head and carefully avoiding eye contact with Whit.
“...about Mira, like I told you. I can’t do anything for her right now. Maybe you should ask first...” he trails off, gesturing with his head toward the divine servant.
This prompts Whit to turn toward the Medishe-like figure, who has been observing them carefully. After a few moments, she speaks:
“I assume this Mira is the one currently inside the temple.”
To which Whit slowly nodded in confirmation of the divine being’s suspicions.
“In that case, this Mira chose the Path of Knowledge and quickly passed through the Way of Understanding. But she seems to be taking some time in the Chamber of Letters.”
As the figure speaks, Whit shakes his head, not really understanding what she means—but feeling an inexplicable sense of relief, knowing Mira is safe.
“Good! The girl followed my advice,” comments Nero’s voice from behind him, concluding with: “She’s got a decent shot of making it through.”
Hearing this brings Whit’s attention back to the mage, prompting him to ask:
“But how much longer will she take?”
The question leads to a heavy exchange of glances between the mage and the figure in the center of the room. The poorly disguised hesitation in both of them puts Whit on edge.
“Well, here’s the thing...” Nero starts slowly, weighing each word carefully.
“...I usually do the temple in kind of like a speed run...”
As he speaks, he starts scratching his head again, seemingly trying to find the best way to explain.
“...so the path I take is almost automatic, and I don’t really keep track of the time it takes.”
“And, what does that mean?” asks the divine servant with curiosity.
Nero shrugs casually:
“About thirty minutes minimum.”
“What!? That’s impossible. Even if you were just running through the temple without completing any of the trials, you wouldn’t make it in thirty minutes!” exclaims the Medishe-like figure in disbelief and irritation.
The mage stares at the figure for a few moments before replying:
“Yeah, you’re right. I forgot about the time difference...”
Whit doesn’t quite understand what Nero means by “time difference.” Maybe he forgot to include part of the journey.
“Counting that, then it’s more like three or four hours,” the mage finishes nonchalantly. Which must mean that Mira shouldn’t be too much longer.
“Hmpf, even that timing is impossible. I’ve never seen anyone get here in less than a day,” the divine servant objects.
“It’s a more realistic estimate for you. You should listen to her,” Nero says sympathetically, worrying Whit about how long this might still take.
“So then how much longer could it be?” asks an anxious Whit. The mage shrugs and gestures toward the figure in the center of the room.
Whit turns back, hoping to hear a clear answer.
“That depends solely on this Mira. Just like you, I can only wait.”
Whit nods—it's the best solution. So he sits in a more comfortable position and prepares to wait.
He adds hopefully:
“But everything’s going to be fine, right?”
Once again, this leads to a weighted exchange of glances between Nero and the divine being, before he answers slowly:
“Whit, you can’t assume that. Though the path Mira’s taking is less... dangerous.”
The mage’s slight hesitation says it all. Less dangerous doesn’t mean without danger. And Nero confirms this when he continues:
“But not without risks.”
“That, and there’s still the final trial,” Nero adds, gesturing toward the motionless figure in the center of the room.
Seeing Medishe’s impassive face, Whit feels his heart tighten in worry for Mira, getting a real sense of what his friend might be facing here.
But he is a priest, and he hasn’t given up on Mira. After a deep breath, he declares with conviction:
“I understand!”
She may face the dangers ahead, but he will wait here, hopeful for her success.
“Maybe it’s better if we leave and set up camp. You could take the chance to eat something, Whit,” says Seres’s voice from behind him. With everything that had happened, he’d nearly forgotten about Nero’s two companions at the top of the stairs leading to the exit.
“Yeah, from what they’ve said, you’d better get some rest,” agrees Adar.
Whit, however, doesn’t turn toward them, continuing to stare ahead as if hoping Mira might appear out of nowhere, and replies:
“Thank you. But I don’t plan to leave without Mira. You go ahead.”
The silence that follows lasts a few moments before Nero calmly says:
“If that’s what you want, very well.”
And Whit understands the conversation is over. Now that, he understands this strange group better. And among them, when the mage decides something—for very understandable reasons—it’s final. No further discussion is needed.
With the sound of Nero’s footsteps fading away, Whit reflects a bit more on everything that’s happened. How he shares responsibility for Mira being here—it was he who discovered the Codex and showed it to her. And how her little rivalry with him had led her to this dangerous decision.
Even if in the end, the only reason they’re here, in this unknown Temple, is because they met that bizarre mage in an inn almost in the middle of nowhere.
Nero—someone Whit doesn’t understand. He can’t even tell what the mage was really hoping to gain here. But he’s sure Nero isn’t satisfied with what he found.
This leads him to say:
“If you want to go, you can. I’m just going to wait for Mira.” He trusts the mage understands that he means they can continue on the path they were following before they met.
After all, both Nero and the divine servant agree—now, it’s just a matter of waiting and seeing what Mira can do. They likely have little interest in staying at the temple’s doorstep.
“Are you sure?” Nero asks.
“Certainly,” Whit replies serenely. After all, waiting here is both his duty and his will. The others aren’t needed.
“Whit, you know the way back to civilization won’t necessarily be safe. It’s better to go in a larger group,” says Adar, showing some concern.
Which, considering it’s coming from Adar, is slightly amusing.
“Don’t worry, Adar. I can assure you that neither she nor I will be easy targets.”
And turning around to the dark-haired young man in his robe, he adds with a small, embarrassed smile:
“As you well know.” Seeing him clutching his ribs, still sore from Mira’s earlier attack. He feels the young man must understand.
Nearing the stairs, Nero watches him, then lets his gaze drift into the distance and says:
“If the girl manages to get here, she’ll be asked a question. Before she answers, remind her that she is a priestess, and that is her greatest strength.”
His gaze returns to Whit as he adds:
“I could say more, but that might displease the one who’ll be giving the trial. And it’s always best to count on a bit of goodwill.”
With that, he continues on his way and begins descending the stairs.
As they depart, Seres’s voice echoes from the stairs:
“Hey, Whit, wait a bit and I’ll bring you something to eat.”
So Whit returns to his place, watching the divine servant observe them leaving carefully. While the servant begins to study him.
Not long after, Seres returns as promised, with a large amount of provisions.
The young man explains that the door they came through had closed while they were upstairs. And without Whit or someone else inside to open it, they’d quickly lose access to the temple. So they were leaving enough supplies for Whit and Mira to return to the inn.
Additionally, he conveyed that Nero had decided they’d wait one day before continuing on their way.
Whit thanked him and said they could leave whenever they wanted. After Seres left, Whit looked at what they had left him—it was mostly food. But among the supplies was a potion vial with a note:
“For the girl, if she needs it before the final trial.”
This small act of kindness brings a smile to his face before he returns to waiting.
With nothing to do, Whit takes refuge in what he knows best and begins to pray, finding comfort in asking for divine help for Mira as he waits for her.
As he prays, eyes closed, he reflects on everything that has happened. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he suddenly feels watched.
Making him open his eyes—only to find, right in front of him, the face of Medishe. She stands just beyond the barrier that separates them, surrounded by an indescribable aura.
For a few moments, he doesn’t know what to make of the figure before him, since it’s the first time the divine servant has moved from the center of the room this entire time.
When his mind resumes working again, only one possibility occurs to him that could have caused this unexpected development. His heart races, and he prepares to stand up, opening his mouth in worry.
“A...”
“Your friend is fine. She’s still in the same place. Which means, in the best-case scenario, you should prepare to wait a couple of days,” the figure replies, apparently having guessed what Whit was thinking.
“Oh... Yes. That’s no problem. I’ll wait as long as it takes,” he declares sincerely, beginning to calm down.
The being before him continues to stare without showing any reaction, leaving him unsure of what to do and feeling somewhat small under this strange attention. Then again, he can understand—there’s not much else for this divine servant to occupy herself with here.
“You were blessed by Medishe,” the figure declares out of nowhere, once again leaving him speechless.
“The Temple of Divine Blessings?” the figure half-asks, half-states, prompting Whit to slowly nod in confirmation.
As Whit tries to think of a way to continue the conversation and perhaps ease the boredom for both of them, the serene voice continues:
“So how did you find him?”
The servant’s eyes gain intensity, helping Whit understand exactly who she’s referring to. This leads him to reveal everything he knows about Nero. After all, he sees no reason to hide anything—nor is he even sure if that would be possible in front of such a divine being.
Once everything is said, the servant’s eyes close as she seems to reflect on what she just heard.
“Interesting,” she declares, still with her eyes closed.
“Fortunately, you haven’t had much contact with him yet...” she announces seriously. “...Nothing good ever will come from being more involved with him.”
Before Whit can question what she means by that—since he hasn’t noticed anything wrong about Nero—she continues:
“In the end, nothing good ever comes from interacting with them.”
And with that, she opens her eyes, fixing her gaze on him.
“They are powerful, but within their reach, all that follows is chaos. Avoid him if you can Blessed of Medishe.”
Before he can ask who they are or what she means, she begins turning away, speaking almost to herself:
“The gods will want to know that one of them still walks the world.”
And with that, she disappears from where she stood and reappears in the center of the room. Even Whit understands this marks the end of the conversation, leaving him with new questions to ponder while he waits.
But in the end, none of that matters. Only waiting for Mira is important—everything else can wait.
With that conclusion, Whit settles in again to continue his prayers as he awaits her return.
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