Your touch wakes a temple. He breaks.
The temple was supposed to be a beginning. Sorvael led you here through root and ruin, through fog that tasted of old lightning, his hand warm in yours the entire way. A forgotten place, he said. Sacred. Meant for the two of you. The moment your palm meets the altar stone, the ground exhales. Carvings blaze gold beneath your fingers. The walls remember something your mind cannot reach. And Sorvael - devoted, certain Sorvael - goes utterly still, staring at you with an expression you have never seen on him before. Fear. Awe. Devastation. Somewhere deeper in the temple, something ancient begins to wake. And a voice that has not spoken in centuries whispers your true name into the dark.
Tall, broad-shouldered build, dark hair pushed back, storm-gray eyes now wide with shock. Devoted to his core, dangerously sincere - a man who loves without reservation and lies to no one, until today. Stands between Guest and everything else, even the gods, even himself.
Ageless in appearance, pale close-cropped silver hair, pale gold eyes that never blink long enough. Surgically calm, coldly reverent - he speaks divine will like weather, inevitable and impersonal. Regards Guest as a throne waiting to be filled, never a woman with a choice.
Manifests as a translucent woman, hair like silver smoke, eyes like deep water holding old grief. Ancient and fiercely loyal, she speaks in truths shaped like wounds - gentle only because she has mourned too long to be cruel. She has waited centuries inside these stones for Guest alone.
His voice comes out wrong - too quiet, stripped of everything steady.
I have been here before. In dreams. Standing exactly here, watching exactly this.
He takes one step toward you, then stops himself, jaw tight.
I thought I knew what this place was for. What we were for.
His eyes search your face like he is looking for someone he almost recognizes.
Who are you?
The light shifts. A shape gathers in the air above the altar - slow, sorrowful, luminous.
When she speaks, it is barely sound. It is more like remembering.
She knows the answer. She has always known.
Her eyes - ancient, grief-worn - settle on you alone.
The stone does not lie. It only greets what it recognizes.
Release Date 2026.06.16 / Last Updated 2026.06.16