You have been keeping your eyes on your opponent while you are trying to process this, only to fail to notice that the other man has somehow found his bearings. The second assailant, now freed from the ominous hawk, seizes the opportunity and advances towards you with a flurry of rapid strikes. As if he is trying to express his anger over his wounds and his defeat against the wild animal by inflicting the same harm on you.

Yet he isn't aware of how high your adrenaline is at the moment—both from the sparring you did with the royal guard earlier and the fight you just had with his companion. Your body may be spent, your mind is still reeling over what the first armoured man said to you about this place, yet your senses are still on high alert. Your reflex is quick, and you weave and dodge his attack with barely seconds to spare. Your sword meets his blade in a series of sparks. In his anger, his movements are out of order and reckless, which will be dangerous for you to continue engaging as they are too unpredictable. Unable to read and to deflect easily.

Heart pounding, you spin to evade his final attack and snap the hilt of your sword against his bruising temple before delivering a sharp kick to his chest. The attack sends him stumbling backwards just as your first opponent returns to strike you from the other side. You sidestep from his swinging sword and retaliate, striking him from his right. Your sword finds its mark, cutting through his armour and drawing blood.

A pained cry leaves his lips as he falls back, giving a chance for his partner who has somehow recovered quickly to take over the fight.

The continuous assaults are beginning to drain you. Your body not only trembles as your second attacker returns with a strike, but you can almost feel sure you are seeing stars the moment your swords collide with each other. Your breath is heavy and ragged, your heart is pounding so hard it becomes the only thing you can hear, and both your muscles and bones are aching. As you stagger back, you realise that these men are trying to push you deeper into the grove, away from the temple and the city altogether.

Keeping your eyes on them as they prowl closer, you wonder if there is something hidden in the grove. But your mind is too preoccupied with focusing on how to survive this fight to even try and figure out what is hidden in the shadows.

Your upward swipe draws blood from your second attacker as your blade scraps his unprotected hips and your side kick brings him to his knee. You duck under a high swing and thrust your sword upward once again when his companion returns, catching him off guard when his surprise attack fails. He falters, clearly just as exhausted and spent as you are while bleeding profusely from the side of his waist. So you take the chance to disarm him with one strike, sending his sword skittering across the muddy ground.

Enraged, he makes a sound from deep inside his throat—which sounds like a growl—and pulls out a dagger from his back to retaliate. Cursing under your breath, you press down your shaking legs to the soot-covered ground beneath you and ready yourself to counter his attack when a voice sharply bellows from behind you, echoing through the grove.

"That's enough!"

At the ominous voice, everything stills. The men that you have been fighting with, the wind, and even the will for you to move. Keeping your sword pointed at your opponent, you turn to look over your shoulder to see the intruder.

Pressure clamps down in your chest as the figure slips out of the shadow, worrying that you are about to face yet another threat. One should have been enough, two were already too many. And if you are going to have to deal with three—

Turning sideways to get a better look at your intruder without losing sight of your assailants, you bring the short sword forward to prepare yourself for an attack. The sound of their footsteps grows nearer, and you prepare to swing your hand down at them, only to immediately stop once the cloaked figure steps out into the limited streaks of sunlight filtering into the grove.

"You can put that thing away, child. I mean no harm," the figure speaks in a gentle, yet firm tone of voice.

Thin, veiny hands are raised, gently lowering the hood of her cloak to reveal the sight of an old woman. The ageing lines on her face are visible even without any adequate light, and they soften when she smiles. Her hazel-brown eyes glint brightly under the dim lights falling on her as she takes you in. So bright, it looks almost golden. Her silver grey hair is pulled back to a thick braid, a striking difference to her rich golden-brown skin.

She stands there in silence after revealing herself to you, clasping her hands together over her torso as she waits until you put the weapon away, sheathing it back to the left side of your hip. But your grip remains on the hilt of your sheathed sword, holding steady, even if it's only for the sake of finding any semblance of strength while preparing yourself in case the situation suddenly changes again.

The woman's gaze follows your hand, taking account of the way your grip is tightening on your weapon. She makes no remark on it, however, as she looks up with a smile to regard the three of you, including the poor man still kneeling on the dirt, who—now that everything has calmed down—you are finally getting a good look on for the first time.

Unlike his companion, the wounded swordsman looks a bit younger, with dirty blond hair and a mesh of curls on top of a boyish round face that is now marred with streaks of blood—the work of the massive hawk earlier. His bright blue eyes are wide, which seems as if they are perpetually filled with fear. His hands have fallen to his sides, slightly trembling, seen through the sword that he is still carrying, and it pleases you to know that you weren't the one having a tough time during the fight.

"Now, there really is no need for all this violence, is there?" the woman says, which only draws a scowl to your face upon hearing it.

"They attacked me first," you point out with a scoff.

A rueful smile comes to her face. "I apologise for their rudeness, my dear. They're not exactly used to welcoming surprise guests coming to our home," she says, tilting her head down with more respect than an elder would normally give to a younger stranger. "But it is nice to see someone visiting our homeland again after so long. It might be too late to say this, but you are welcome here."

The scarred man, who is clearly unhappy with this situation, snaps out of it and shouts, "High Priestess Gaia! What are you saying? She came in here without permission."

He is soon joined by his wounded companion who suddenly finds his missing bravado to reason, "This place has been abandoned and forgotten for a long time. For someone to be able to come here means—"

"It means that they might have gotten their hands on a special key, or that fate has led her way here, just in time for the Full Moon Rite," the woman—High Priestess Gaia—cuts off their rambling calmly, almost sounding like a mother chastising her rude boys. She gives them a pointed look as she adds, "Or the poor soul could have been lost. I've lived much longer in this realm than you have been, child. I don't need you to lecture me about how things work in this place."

Sensing no danger coming from her, you loosen your guard a little—shoulders sagging in quick relief and your hands falling away from your sheathed sword.

"So tell me. Are you lost, child?"

Feeling unsure, you glance back and forth between the Priestess and the swordsmen before answering. "I, uh—" You take a deep breath, suddenly finding it hard to think of the right words to say. "I was just passing by," you finally manage to speak. Sighing, you try to shake off the tension still rolling in your body and tilt your head down, greeting the Priestess as formally as you can. "Forgive me for trespassing. I had no idea if this place was forbidden to enter."

"It's not," High Priestess Gaia says without missing a beat—before any of the swordsmen can get a word in. "Just like the boy said. This place has been lost in time with no one coming to visit for a long time. Be it out of fear, or because this place has been written off from the maps of the realm."

You can sense the movement from one of the swordsmen as he shifts on his feet, as if trying to dispute the high priestess' words. Gaia, noticing the same thing, releases a deep sigh and looks over at them.

"Go back to the Keep. It's almost time for the rite. I'm sure you will be more useful for the priests there," she firmly says, and then turns to the wounded man still sitting on the ground to add, "And you'll want to look at those wounds and have them tended."

The scarred swordsman—the one still standing—grits his teeth, as if he is about to deny the order given to him. But then his companion lets out a deep grunt in his effort to rise to his feet, and he finally gives in. Nodding his head, the scarred swordsman swallows his displeasure and bends down to retrieve his sword. He glares at you as he sheaths his sword, before turning to help his friend to his feet.

"I'll take him to the healer," he says, bowing slightly at the priestess. Facing you again, his glare returns, as sharp as the tip of his sword as he swears, "Fates be damned, but if you even think about leaving a scratch on Gaia's skin or posing a threat to her, I will come back here and end you myself."

You return his glare with a stubborn tilt of your chin. "And as I have repeatedly said, I never meant any harm. I can promise you that there will be no harm committed to your priestess."

Keeping your gaze locked on the scarred guard, you can see it when he finally backs down, the defiant look in his eyes wavering before he acknowledges you with a short nod. Wrapping the younger one's arm around his shoulder so he can support him, he says nothing else and simply bows to the high priestess before finally walking away.

You watch them go, wobbling through the trees before they disappear in the shadows as they search for a healer.

"Go back to the Keep."

So you were right, after all. There is something beyond this grove. You wonder if there are other swordsmen like them stationed in the Keep—guards who are responsible of watching over the temple and the ruined city—and were planning to hold you hostage there. Shaking your head, you choose not to dwell in the thought and turn to face the high priestess again.

She still has her eyes following the swordsmen, watching over them like a mother would to her sons.

Glancing over her shoulder, you realise that she is standing on the path which leads you back to the temple. It makes you wonder if that was where she had come from.

Has she been in the temple all along?

"I wasn't aware that there was someone in the temple when I was in there."

The wise, old woman turns her gaze towards you and smiles. "Strictly speaking, I was not. I was praying in my chamber. I only came down here because I felt something calling for me at the temple. Thought it was her, but I guess I was wrong," she says with a deep, almost bitter chuckle. Her words and the look in her eyes are hollow when she mutters almost to herself, "I should've known better. It's been too long since she came to visit this place."

'Her'?

The way she is speaking in riddles while looking as if she is lost in her own thoughts—memories—draws an icy, uneasy chill through your body. Her eyes appear haunted, as if lost somewhere in the past. That look lasts merely a moment longer before it fades, warmth fills her almost-golden eyes when she regards you again. But then the uneasiness returns when you are made to feel as if she is looking straight into your soul, unravelling your secrets without so much of a spell.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Not really," you reluctantly admit. Unlike E'l Alora, which you were able to identify before ever stepping foot into their human town, this place doesn't remind you at all of anything that you have ever read in your book of Ancients and Magic. "In a way, you were right, I got lost and stranded here for some reason."

A light sound of laughter leaves you, only that it comes out a bit shaky with nerves.

"Forgive me if I sound rude, but," you glance around the grove, shuddering under the shadows that have grown thicker now that the sun has lowered from the sky. "May I know what exactly is this place?"

The old woman looks at you with a knowing smile. "Come. It would be better if we find someplace more comfortable for us to talk," she says to you as she turns, ready to head back to the direction where she came from. She might have sensed your hesitation, because she glances down at your forearm and gently points out, "Maybe we can also do something about that wound."

You follow her gaze and look down, surprised to see a tear on your sleeve. From the torn fabric, you can see a long slash on the skin of your forearm, fresh blood still leaking out. A wound that came from the fight without you realising it.

"Oh, I didn't realise," you murmur with a flinch. You recall feeling a sting on your forearm at one point during the fight, yet you ignored it, focusing more on deflecting their swords and pushing back. Now that you finally notice the wound, your brain begins to register the pain.

Pressing your palm against the wound, you look at the high priestess with narrowed eyes. "You could've sent me off with your men to have this looked at."

Gaia merely scoffs, as if the thought of allowing you to join the guards would have been unfathomable. "And risk them disobeying me once I'm not looking?" she asks, "I hope you'll excuse those boys. They have taken their duty to guard this place to heart—perhaps a bit too much. Though I can't excuse them for their rash behaviour. They should've reported to me first or any of the high priests before taking actions."

You quickly shake your head. "I should be the one apologising for causing trouble."

"There is no need," she says. You can almost hear her smile when she turns away from you. "Now, come, before that wound gets worse. And you also fought quite hard, so who knows if there's any other we're not seeing."

Lowering your arms to your side, you begin to follow the high priestess. But just as you are about to leave the fighting ground, Gaia lifts her hood and looks up to the trees.

"You might want to alert your friend and tell him that you're doing fine with me. That might stop him from worrying too much," she suddenly says, pointing up towards the black-winged hawk that had joined the fight earlier, now perched on one of the thin, twisted branches hanging above your head.

At the height of the fight, you have forgotten about it.

When you first saw it, you had simply thought that the hawk only appeared because you had intruded on its home. But Gaia's comment only puts a confused frown on your face.

"What? But I thought the hawk is with you," you question her, thinking that the animal is a part of the land, therefore, related to Gaia and the temple. But your question only draws another soft chuckle coming from her.

"Oh, no, dear. That handsome hawk came in together with you," she says as she looks over her shoulder with a knowing smile, leaving you to wonder where the beast had come from, and why it had involved itself in your fight. 

You were quite right for assuming that the high priestess had come from the mountain temple.

Well, you were partially right.

After your quick chat at the grove, Gaia led you back towards the mountain temple. But the moment you entered the entrance tunnel leading back into the main temple, she made a sharp turn and entered through an aperture in the stone wall that you had missed on your way out. It was dark, yet the moment she walked past the wall, torches lit up with flames that burned without any heat, illuminating the corridor and the set of stone steps leading upwards.

You followed her until she entered a simple stone room above the tunnel. The chamber was narrow and high-ceilinged, with candlelights flickering on the stone walls and the small wooden altar set on the end of the chamber. You saw no sight of a statue or drawings of any known Ancients around the altar, yet the wooden top was filled with scriptures, rolled and drawn open, with an opened book laid on the center.

Aside from the altar, the chamber was limitedly furnished. Nothing but one dark rug made up of animal skin covering the front of the altar, a shelf in the corner of the room which was filled with herbs and mixing bowls and even more books, and a single divan covered in silk—that was where you settled down soon after you entered the chamber.

And now the chamber is filled with the scent of herbs, a concoction that she made to help heal your wound. It feels cold on your skin, and it leaves an obvious stain which requires you to roll up your sleeve to avoid it getting soiled—even though you still worried about explaining the tear and the blood stain once you would have to hand it over to the palace maid.

"Seeing the way you are looking at this place, it seems that you've been to another sacred land before," Gaia says, stating a fact rather than questioning, as she gently wraps a bandage around your wounded forearm, sealing the medicinal herbs while stopping your bleeding.

Nodding, you choose to explain it the best you can without giving too many details about your 'trips,' and without revealing that it had been merely a day before when you first encountered another sacred land. "I've travelled to different places, oftentimes finding myself stranded in strange places," you share with a chuckle, "Such as this one."

Gaia smiles and finishes her work. "Our homeland, this city of mountains, is called Arselon," she says as she gathers the bowl of mixed herbs and bandages and starts putting them away. "The mountain temple has always been known as the temple of Arselon, even though it used to have its own name. Many used to travel far to come to our rites, specifically the nights of the full moon. Just like what's happening tonight."

You have so many questions. Much about this place, and more about the people that had once resided here. Gaia, as if she can read your mind, turns to light up fresh candles to replace the ones that have burned out while she was gone, and continues to tell you more about this place.

"Back then, the Ancients—our ancestors—built these temples to worship their Gods and Goddesses, to pray for the sanctity of the realm and to pass down their wisdom. Unlike the humans in the mortal realm, the residents of the Far Far Away Land today no longer hold the same rites, and only a small few still worship the sources of their powers, while only using these temples to pray and wish for blessings from their ancestors. It has been that way since the Ancients who built this realm were long gone."

Gaia returns to your side with a glass of wine—for healing, she had explained earlier when she first pointed out the decanter resting on the wooden shelf. "This place used to be where the Priests and Priestess would hold lectures and sermons to the people, spreading the knowledge about our Ancients and magic, and the history behind the creation of the realm."

Gaia's eyes turn towards the flickering candles, and then the small altar. "We still keep most of the scriptures that recounted the story of the Ancients, the history behind the realm, and the secrets of magic. Yet we no longer have as many as we used to. All that we have left are preserved in small chambers such as this one, hidden libraries and storages in various parts of this mountain temple."

Your eyes follow her gaze to the scriptures on the altar, the chests lying beneath, and the shelf which is lined up with old books. You refuse to believe that this is all that was left of all the documented history that this place has to preserve, but before you can say anything, Gaia confirms it with sadness written in her gaze.

"Once, this land was seen and regarded as a sacred place, a holy land, yet this is all that was left behind over time." A resigned sigh escapes her lips before she smiles grimly. "Now you understand why our young guards were uncompromising when it came to protecting this place."

The smile that you give her feels just as grim. Your mouth feels bitter from her grievance, from the dark history shadowing this place, so you raise your glass to wash it all down. Your chest aches to think about what was lost. Recalling what you have learned after your visit to E'l Alora, you take a deep breath and question her, "Was it the war, that came to this land?"

Gaia grimly nods. "The Great Siege."