"Come on now, that's not gonna work on us," Evrin tilted his head, his gaze fixed on Saija.

She was as jumpy as a startled mouse, her wide eyes darting to every shadow as they made their way deeper into the cove. It was almost amusing how obvious she was being— like she was trying to spook them on purpose.

If that was her game, she'd have to try harder.

Evrin had never been one for ghost stories. Growing up, he'd been dragged into more than his fair share of abandoned buildings and decrepit houses, always hearing the same recycled tales about the curse and restless spirits.

He'd learned early on that the older kids only told those stories to keep him out of the best hiding spots or from snagging the most profitable find. It had worked- once. After that, he'd made it his mission to be the first one through every dark door, just to prove them wrong.

But even Evrin couldn't shake the unease that clung to this place. The air was still, unnervingly so. The cold wasn't the sharp bite of a mountain breeze, but a creeping, damp chill that seemed to crawl up his spine and into his chest.

There was no wind- none at all- despite the open forest behind them. It was like the cove existed in its own little bubble, cut off from the natural order of things.

Still, he wasn't about to let on. If there was one thing he hated more than ghost stories, it was the idea of someone thinking he was scared.

Evrin stuffed his hands into his pockets, itching as they brushed against nothing but empty fabric.

Evrin glanced over at the others. Kane was tense, his fists clenched as though he was ready to fight the shadows themselves. Medora, leading the group, kept her gaze fixed ahead, her perfect posture making her seem more confident than she probably felt. And Saija- well, Saija was harder to pin down. She looked like she was trying to keep up appearances, but her wide eyes and the way she clutched her notebook betrayed her nerves.

Not that he cared. Whatever whispers she claimed to have heard earlier were probably her imagination- or her way of stirring the pot. She was good at that. Too good.

He let his gaze drift back to the path ahead, kicking a loose stone. The cove narrowed as they moved deeper, the walls of rock and twisted vines pressing in around them. Even the sound of their footsteps seemed muffled, swallowed by the unnatural stillness.

And then he saw it: the temple ruins came into view, its crumbling facade barely discernible through the thick mist that clung to the air. The closer they drew, the heavier the air felt, as though the weight of centuries pressed down on their shoulders.

"Finally," he muttered under his breath, his unease momentarily eclipsed by curiosity.

At the entrance stood an obsidian archway, its surface etched with runes that seemed to shift and shimmer when caught by the sunlight breaking through the haze.

Evrin squinted against the sudden brightness, a contrast to the muted shadows of the cove. The faintest whispers carried through the air- so faint that he dismissed them as the groan of falling stones or the scrape of shifting branches.

Evrin's focus was elsewhere. Places like this always had something worth finding, something valuable buried beneath the ruins and the rumors. He just had to figure out how to get to it first.

Despite its decay, the temple's grandeur was unmistakable. Evrin could almost picture its prime—a shadowed twin to the palace in the distance, its towering spires unbroken and gleaming. Even now, the fractured obsidian surfaces reflected the muted afternoon light, defiant against the passage of time.

A crumbling stairway beneath the arch led up to the ruins, its jagged steps stretching toward the edge of the cove. The group lingered there, hesitant and watchful, the weight of the temple pressing down on them like an unseen force.

Evrin pushed ahead, suddenly eager to get inside despite the stifling air. Each step forward seemed to amplify his intruige. Shadows stretched long and sharp across the stone, their movements almost alive.

As they climbed the fractured steps and passed under the temple's shadowed arch, each creak of stone underfoot sounded too loud, as if the ruins themselves were listening.

Something gleamed in the corner of Evrin's eye, drawing his attention like a magnet. He glanced at the others, their focus scattered as they navigated the treacherous terrain, wary of every flickering shadow. Perfect.

Evrin's steps were light as he moved toward the gleam, his heart quickening at the sight of a gold-dipped coin resting against the weathered stone. It seemed to glow faintly, as if calling to him, its surface etched with runes that matched those carved into the archway outside.

"Hello, pretty thing," he mumbled under his breath, crouching to get a closer look.

It was certainly valuable- an antique currency, maybe? Or something rarer. He could already imagine the bidding war it would spark in the right circles.

But this wasn't just any place. This was, supposedly, a cursed temple, and Evrin had learned to be cautious in places where his greed might come at a cost. He hesitated, eyeing the coin as if sizing up prey that just might bite back.

Straightening, he nudged some rubble over the coin with the toe of his boot, watching as it shifted under the weight. No traps sprung, no hidden mechanisms clicked. Just silence.

Evrin's lips curled into a faint smirk as he glanced back at the group, still oblivious to his detour. "Fools," he whispered, crouching once more. His fingers hovered around the coin, his chest tightening with the thrill of the risk.

It was just a coin after all, likely left behind by a careless- and dead- explorer. They wouldn't be needing it any time soon.

He swiped up the coin as he stood, smoothly tucking it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

A strange pulse surged through his body, flooding his senses and his vision darkened. In an instant, he was no longer in the temple.

The echo of raised voices, the smell of damp stone, and the sharp sting of adrenaline enveloped him.

Evrin- younger, cockier, and slightly more reckless- stepped out of the shadows. His voice, sharp with mockery, cut through the tunnel. "Quite the haul, Marrek. Didn't know shaking down kids was your new gig."

Three men froze mid-search through the satchels they'd snatched. In the dim lantern light, their burly leader, Marrek, turned to face Evrin. His sheer size seemed to blot out the glow, his face twisting with annoyance.

"Watch your mouth, kid," Marrek growled, his tone low and dangerous. "You've got no idea who you're messing with."

Evrin crossed his arms, feigning nonchalance. His heart pounded, but he kept his tone light. "Oh, I've got a pretty good idea. Big guy, big ego, probably hiding the real stash while your buddies scrape by on scraps. Am I close?"

The taunt worked. In two strides, Marrek closed the distance, grabbing Evrin by the front of his shirt and slamming him against the stone wall. Evrin held his breath as pain lanced through his side, forcing his expression to remain calm.

Marrek leaned in, a knife suddenly pressed to Evrin's throat. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But guts won't matter when you're six feet under."

Evrin didn't flinch, though his fingers were already working, slipping into Marrek's pockets unnoticed. "Maybe," he said, his voice tight. "But stealing from kids who barely have enough to survive? That's not survival, Marrek. That's cowardice."

Marrek's eyes darkened, his grip tightening. His lackeys moved closer, their footsteps echoing menacingly.

Evrin's pulse spiked. Before Marrek could react, Evrin twisted his arm sharply, forcing the knife hand down and sending the bigger man stumbling. Evrin moved quickly, throwing Marrek off balance and sending him to the ground with a crash.

Pain shot through his shoulder as one of the lackeys' blades grazed him, but he didn't stop. He bounded over Marrek's sprawling form, his hand catching a stack of crates and toppling them in his wake. Valuable trinkets and stolen goods scattered across the floor, buying him a precious few seconds.

He skidded to a halt in front of the huddled group of kids, their wide eyes fixed on him in awe and terror. Without a word, he tossed the recovered satchel of coins and trinkets into their midst. "Go," he mouthed to them, nodding toward the nearest exit.

Behind him, Marrek roared. "You're dead, Locke!" Marrek's growl echoed through the dark corridor.

Evrin grinned, the pain coursing through his body momentarily forgotten. "Get in line!" he called over his shoulder, his laugh echoing down the corridor as he sprinted away.

Evrin's vision cleared, and he blinked rapidly, his breath catching as a sharp burning sensation flared against his right side. His hand darted to the pocket touching his skin, fingers brushing the residual heat of the relic.

The memory had been vivid, almost painfully so- but it didn't need to be. He remembered that day often. It was a moment of pride, something that reminded him he wasn't entirely irredeemable. Not that anyone else would believe it. But that suited him just fine. No friends meant no obligations. No trust meant no betrayals. 

He was a thief. A good one, and he hadn't gotten where he was by making friends.

"Ev," a sharp voice broke through the fog in his mind. He turned to see Adonis a few yards away, one brow raised and a smirk tugging at his lips. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Don't tell me you're finally spooked?"

Evrin's lips curled into a mocking grin, masking the tension still knotted in his chest. "Worried about me Lenoir? How sweet."

Adonis rolled his eyes but didn't press further, returning to his own inspection of the ruins.

The shadows of the temple seemed darker now, the cold more biting, but he shoved the unease down. He was about to move on when a faint squeak of shoes caught his attention. He turned sharply, his eyed landing on Saija.

She was moving in a slow, deliberate way that sent alarm bells ringing in his head. Her gaze was unfocused, fixed straight ahead as if in a trance.

What was she doing?

The stone path she walked was narrow, leading dangerously close to the ledge overlooking the swirling black fog of the Veil. Evrin's chest tightened.

Surely she knew how close she was. Surely she would stop.

But her footing slipped as though the ground itself shifted beneath her.

Evrin moved toward her like lightning. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist before she could fall over the edge. For a single heartbeat, he let her hang there, her weight tilting precariously over the edge. He watched the realization flicker in her wide eyes, the panic spreading across her face.

"Careful," he said smoothly, his voice laced with condescension. "That could've gone badly. Lucky for you, I'm quicker than your judgment."

Her breathing hitched, her other arm flailing slightly as she tried to steady herself.

And then he acted, yanking her back with more force than necessary. Saija stumbled, colliding into his chest, her breathing rapid and shallow.

"You're welcome," Evrin snapped, his tone sharper now, though a smug smile tugged at his lips.

Saija pulled away from him, glaring up at him with defiance, though her eyes were still glazed with lingering panic. "I didn't ask for your help."

"Clearly," he replied, his voice biting. "In case you haven't noticed, this place is barely holding itself together, and you've got the stability of a newborn foal." His grip tightened slightly before he released her wrist.

"Try not to get yourself killed. You're already enough trouble."

The commotion drew the group's attention.
Medora was the first to turn, her sharp gaze narrowing as she took in the scene. "What happened?"

Evrin was already walking away from Saija, his jaw tight as the burn in his pocket flared again. "Nothing, just saving the day," he performed a mock bow before brushing past the rest of the group.

His heart still thundered in his chest, though he forced his stride to stay casual. Saija was lucky it had been him nearby. No one else would've moved fast enough- or maybe even bothered to help her.

It had been instinct to move. Letting her fall would've been a disaster for the rest of the group. The dean would've had their heads for taking this trek, and the blame would have landed squarely on him.

Maybe he should've let her go. She hadn't even said thank you. Typical.

Still, a dead classmate wasn't exactly helpful, no matter how much she got under his skin.

A whisper pierced his thoughts, clear as day.

"She's hiding more than you are. Don't let her win."

Evrin's breath hitched. The voice was cold, intimate—like it had been spoken directly into his ear.

He spun around, his gaze darting to the rest of the group, and they all looked just as alarmed as he did. They were huddled together, Saija gesturing animatedly as she tried to explain what had happened, when their own whispers began.

He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see someone- or something. But there was nothing. Just looming shadows and jagged stone.

Before he could say a word, his vision blurred, and he was thrust into darkness again.

Suddenly, he was standing in the heart of the temple.

The air was thick with incense smoke, curling like phantom tendrils toward the vaulted ceilings. A massive, circular altar stood at the center, etched with glowing runes that pulsed with an eerie violet light.

Emperor Zarvyk, clad in ceremonial robes of black and gold, raised his hands high above his head, his voice ringing out in a language forgotten by time. The words were guttural, almost unnatural, resonating in the bones of anyone who might have dared to listen. The runes on the pillar began to glow, brighter and brighter, as though they were feeding on the power of his words.

A chalice rested in Zarvyk's hands, brimming with a dark, viscous liquid that seemed to shift and swirl as though alive. He poured the contents onto the altar, and the liquid spread like blood, snaking toward and around him in a crimson web.

The air crackled with energy, the runes flaring violently. The chamber trembled, and a low, inhuman growl echoed from the depths of the valley beneath the temple. Zarvyk's expression twisted—not with fear, but with a greed-driven triumph.

"By my will," he declared, his voice trembling with ambition, "let this empire stand eternal, unbroken, and unchallenged. Let all who dwell within its walls serve the throne, bound by their desires."

But as the last word left his lips, the violet light turned a sickly green, and the web of runes began to splinter and fracture. A shadow erupted from the valley, enveloping the room in darkness. Screams echoed—Zarvyk's, and the screams of those who had been summoned to witness the ritual. The darkness tore through them, and their voices were abruptly silenced. He had bound his empire, but in doing so, he had also bound himself.

Evrin gasped, his vision snapping back to the present. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as he blinked at the others.

Nadia's trembling voice broke the silence. "Did anyone else-"

Another whisper rippled through Evrin's mind, piercing and inescapable:

"Seven sins divided, seven fates sealed,
A kingdom lost, its wounds unhealed.
Through trials faced and bonds of trust,
Balance restores from ashes and dust."

The words seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating through the group like a sinister echo.

"We need to go," Cassian choked out, his voice tight. He adjusted the bag on his shoulders, his knuckles white. "Now."

Evrin's eyes swept the ruins one last time, desperate for some kind of explanation. Shadows flickered across the crumbling walls, but they offered no answers.

Then he saw it.

From the depths of the valley below, a thick fog was rising, slow and deliberate. It writhed like living smoke, stretching out long tendrils that crept toward the group with a chilling purpose.

-
Eep! Meet Evrin! And welcome to the temple! Drop your thoughts and comments below!:) as always thank you for reading!!