The temple of Adiram was still heavy with the aftertaste of the rebirth. The air shimmered faintly, as if the stones themselves had drunk too deeply of power and were now bleeding it back into the world in uneasy sighs. The acolytes remained prostrate on the ground, their bodies trembling from awe and fear, their voices whispering fragments of prayers that dissolved into the cold air before they could take form.
At the center of the altar, the girl, no, the vessel sat calmly, her bare feet resting against the black stone as though it were her throne. Her hair spilled across her shoulders in dark, tangled waves, but her eyes gleamed red in the dimness, unearthly, alive with something far older than her fragile body.
