On a boat drifting over the sea, an old oarsman and three women sat silently.

It was a cold and cloudy night that hinted at the upcoming autumn. The old man, an ordinary fisherman in the morning, had started preparing his nets, bait, and traps before the morning sun rose and before his wife could prepare breakfast. However, before he could finish his preparations, there was a light knock on the door.

The newcomer was a tall, young man with bright blue eyes, and he was well-dressed. He wore a plain, gray silk tunic, his black cloak was fastened with a silver brooch, reminding him . and immaculate boots that seemed untouched by the earth. His black cloak was fastened with a silver brooch. "I need an oarsman who won't ask questions," he had said with a smile. "Someone who won't see, hear, or ask questions." The old man had thought he was just another smuggler. The richest one for sure, but a smuggler. He was old and cautious enough to know not to get involved in such matters. The stranger must have sensed his thoughts, as before being rejected, he took out a heavy-looking purse from his pocket and began counting gold coins one by one in front of the old man and his wife. Even now, the memory of his blue eyes that gleamed as he counted the money and his mocking smile that never left his lips remained in his mind.

They had agreed to a journey from Pelalica to Mon se Katheria for 200 gold coins when darkness fell; 20 gold coins for the journey there and 80 gold coins for the return. A total of 120 gold coins. He didn't know what he needed to smuggle to the island, nor did he ever want to learn, but one would have to be a complete fool to refuse 200 coins. The fisherman Odo was cautious, yes, but not foolish.

He couldn't even eat the soup his wife had prepared after the deal was made. The money had captivated them both, but his wife hadn't liked this business at all. She thought he had reached an agreement too quickly, she also thought they should inform the lookouts and back out of this deal. She might have been right, but one shouldn't always listen to women. He had never met a wealthy woman before, so he doubted their ability to make the right decision.

Taking his belongings to the shore before it was too late, he spent the whole afternoon sitting aimlessly by the shore, keeping an eye on his boat. When the crooked-nosed, stupid Payne and the other loaves saw that he hadn't set out to sea, they mocked, "Fish won't come to you on foot, aye? Are you the lord of this port now?" But Odo didn't even get angry at the fools.

The only thing he could think of was that purse; if he had it, he would never have to set out to sea again. The wines of Quatha, Faria, and Sullea were famous, or they were the most common. Perhaps he could go to one of these cities with his family? They could board a small ship heading east, buy a house and a vineyard from those lands, and lead a comfortable life trading wine with their wife and daughters, without setting out to the sea for the rest of their life. Maybe they wouldn't even need to work themselves. With this money, he could buy plenty of men who would work for him for a lifetime. His wife and daughters would live like ladies, and he would become a lord himself.

In the worst case, they could save the money, spending it little by little and living out their lives.

The sunset arrived after what felt like years of waiting. Even after Crooked Nose and the others had gathered their belongings and returned home, Odo continued to wait. As the sky darkened, fear gripped him, and a voice within him whispered to return home. Such a large sum of money wouldn't be given for a small job. It was evident that it was illegal. What was he going to carry? Entry to the island was prohibited. Even approaching it was forbidden. What could he take there? The young man from this morning? What would happen if they were caught? A fine? Whipping, imprisonment, execution? Although his thoughts pounded in his head, he sat there until there was no one left but the sound of the faint wind and the light of the blood-red moon rising in the sky.

As he looked at the moon, his skin shivered even more. Rumors were circulating among the people about this color of the moon. It heralded doomsday they said; death, war, blood, the darkening of the sun and hopes, the overthrow of the king. Everyone said something else but the scholars said it was a natural phenomenon. It held no meaning. The fisherman believed in neither omens nor scholars. The workings of the gods were beyond comprehension and unstoppable. He needed to accept his fate and the opportunities that came his way without overthinking. Perhaps what he needed to do was to submit.

After a while, the shadows of a carriage and four horses appeared on the road that remained at the foot of the mountain, weaving through the tall reeds. He stood up from his seat and squinted, watching the approaching figures. The carriage resembled the glassless, purple, and blue carriages of the Brilesian traders he had seen in the market at Carrion. As the riders approached, he realized that the young man he had seen in the morning was on the brown horse. He was wearing the same clothes. When the carriage opened and three women dressed in black gowns with black veils descended from it, as the details of the job were discussed and 80 gold coins were placed into his pocket, the young man was smiling just like that morning.

And then they were here, right now, on the dark sea. The men had stayed on the shore, only the women had boarded the boat. "Don't be afraid, this secrecy is only for security. We have permission to enter the island," the young man had said.

The fisherman couldn't be certain, but he felt a bit more at ease. If he were to smuggle illegal drugs or stolen goods, he wouldn't have been able to sleep soundly at night for a long time. The women didn't seem like slaves too; so there was no problem. He wasn't committing a crime.

The three women had worn dark, shabby long dresses that contradicted the carriage they had boarded. They were dressed entirely in black, with gloves on their hands and opaque black veils that concealed their faces. While their body shapes were hidden, the woman in the middle was very tall and had broad shoulders that were unusual for a woman. She walked and sat upright. The two figures on her right and left were very slender, short, and petite. The fisherman wondered what they looked like. Perhaps their black veils were an indication that they were native priestesses. The beauty of temple women was legendary, but except for special ceremonies, it was forbidden to see them, to touch them, or to hear their voices. Since the three women hadn't uttered a word since getting off the carriage, it must have been so. They were the wives of the Mountain God. A part of him also knew that it was forbidden for these women to leave the island, but he didn't care. That was their problem. His job wasn't to be curious, his job was to paddle and collect his 120 gold coins on the return.

The navy blue of the sky was nearly indistinguishable. Although the wind was mild and the boat wasn't rocking, colossal gray clouds covered the horizon, heralding the impending rain before dawn. The blood-red moon was hidden behind the dark clouds, occasionally sending rays of light through the gaps, illuminating the sea. Odo kept his eyes on the horizon and continued to paddle. As the dark island drew closer, it grew more massive. The island itself was shrouded in darkness, but the Deep Mountain at its center and the Crystal Temple atop them glowed brightly in the moonlight. Normally, the temple shimmered with a silvery gleam, but now it was faded pink, red, orange, and purple. As they approached the island, the waves on the sea and the people on the boat became illuminated.

They were fortunate that both the weather and the water were calm. Small ships were more suitable for this journey, but they had somehow managed to make it. After paddling for almost two hours until his arms throbbed and went numb, the fisherman's boat approached the shore of the island. When he saw a couple of torches burning on the beach, the fisherman's stomach cramped for a moment, but the women didn't react at all. So, it was true, he taught, it must be so. What they were doing was legal, and they were expected.

As they neared the island, the fisherman's boat glided gracefully in the shallow waters and finally came to a stop. The women got up from their seats even before he did. The fisherman reached out his hand for them to disembark, but they didn't even look at him. They extended their hands to a group of young women approaching the pier.

After the women had disembarked, a dozen more strangers approached them, watching silently with torches in hand, not saying a word. There was expectation and respect on their faces. These were the island's inhabitants, likely waiting to greet the temple women. Odo watched as the women exchanged silent greetings with the locals. Then, without even looking back at the fisherman, the women slowly walked away from the pier, their black dresses sweeping the ground as they walked. The native women followed quickly behind them, without raising their heads. The fisherman, unsure of what to do, let go of his oars. What would happen now? He wouldn't return alone; he had discussed this with the young man who gave him the money. But where would he wait for them until dawn? At the shore?

After the women started walking away, a small group of locals approached the pier. Among them, a short and slender young man walked toward the fisherman, he was also holding a torch. He had curly brown hair, coppery skin, and pearl-white teeth. "Good evening, sir, luno il'lloso," he said in a sweet island accent, smiling widely. "May your night be illuminated. My friends will take care of your boat's safety. We kindly request you to be our guest for tonight. While waiting for the lady, we'd like to host you."

Following behind the young man, a few similarly copper-skinned, lean men arrived. They wore linen tunics that looked almost weightless in a light color and thick-soled sandals. Speaking with the distinct island accent, they invited the fisherman to join them with a calm tone.

The old man didn't want to leave his boat, but he seemed to have no other choice. With a heavy heart, he nodded and took the young men's hands, stepping onto the pier. The two men took his place in the boat and began paddling amidst the fisherman's uneasy gaze... Odo didn't take his eyes off them until they were far away. Then he turned and walked with the locals, leaving the shore, the blood moon behind, his mind filled with anxiety.

On the other side, a group of women greeted the three sacred guests arriving on the island. Half a dozen walked ahead, while another half a dozen followed behind the guests, making their way through the path that led through a nearby forest village among the curious gazes of the locals. The shimmering eyes that looked at them in the darkness held a mix of respect, fear, and reverence. The sides of the roads, the fronts of wooden houses, village squares, roofs, trees, gardens – all were teeming with people. Some who saw the guests walking in reverence called out for prayers, while others immediately prostrated themselves in obeisance. Beneath their black veils, the temple priestesses continued to walk gracefully, unaffected by the reactions.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

For a long while, they walked along winding forest paths. The air felt warmer and more stifling. The roads gradually moved away from villages and dim lights, and eventually, the flat paths started to incline. They were climbing the foothills of the Deep Mountain. The forest remained as dense as before; ancient trees had grown so densely and tall that it was impossible to see the sky when looking up. Light barely filtered through their branches, yet strangely, looking at them filled people not with fear but with a peculiar sense of protection. The ground was covered with shrubs, branches, leaves, and various wildflowers. Unseen animals murmured in the distant trees. As they walked and ascended the mountain's foothills, the murmurs increased, surrounding them like waves. Night birds sang eerie songs for them and for the blood moon.

Amid the scent of the trees, they continued to ascend. After a point, the trees in the forest began to thin. Now, the cloudy sky could be seen through the tall trees. The moon's pale light broke through the branches, illuminating their path. They sometimes slowed down, sometimes quickened their pace, but they never stopped to catch their breath. The locals hadn't even broken a sweat. With small yet steady steps, they carefully ascended the uphill path.

When they reached a small fountain, the path split in two. A narrow, stony trail branched off from the main road and led to a different section of the forest beyond the fountain. Except for the eldest woman, all the others turned away from the guests and walked backward, giving a nod of greeting. "Luna il'llasa, se Katheria." After taking a few steps, they turned and retraced their path.

The old woman raised her torch. She had been inconspicuous in the midst of the crowd earlier, blending in and almost disappearing, but now she appeared larger than life. Her hunched back straightened, her wrinkled white face and slanted hazel eyes glowed brightly. She wore a long gray silk robe adorned with white threads in the shape of leaves and branches on her sleeves, and the massive trunk of a tree was embroidered on her chest. Her hair was braided, forming an endless, long bun at the top of her head.

"We will walk along this path, to the roots of the mountain, and enter through the Door of Essence," she said.

The women nodded in agreement.

The place they referred to as the roots of the mountain was a rocky area at the end of the stone path. The solid rocks had been carved by ancient people to resemble tree roots. Hundreds of massive tree roots piled upon each other, winding, curving, and extending their arms into the surrounding forests, plunging into the earth. They held the earth tight. Even before the women reached the door, a few of the roots emerged along the forest path they were walking. They had no defined length; their thickness was at least as much as the trunk of 4-5 oak trees combined. They wound around them in respect, and finally, they arrived at the juncture where the mountain's roots converged, at the Door of Essence.

The Door of Essence, as they called it, was carved into the Deep Mountain itself. It was more than 10 meters tall and about 5 meters wide. Even though it was made of the pale rocks they called "breathless rocks," the master craftsmen of ancient times had polished it to such an extent that it gleamed like a mirror. There was neither a lock nor a keyhole, no doorknob or ornamentation on it. In front of it lay a wide set of silver stairs with 33 steps that seemed never-ending. They were called the Silver Steps due to their silver-coated railings and treads, and the carved roots stretched from both sides of the Door of Essence. When they stood at the edge of the steps and looked up, the towering Deep Mountain, thousands of meters in height, loomed before them in the darkness of the night. It seemed to have no end. The door appeared so small next to it and the guests felt like specks of dust.

The elderly woman led the way, followed by the three women. One by one, they ascended the 33 steps. As they climbed, the world beneath them diminished. They found themselves higher than ever before. Even the tallest watchtower of most castles would be only half as high as this place. They could see the tops of nearby trees and the misty, dark forest they walked in. The sky welcomed them once more, dark clouds hovered overhead, and the blood-red moon observed them from behind the curtains.

Upon reaching the summit, the elderly woman was breathless. Without waiting to catch her breath, she straightened her hunched back again, pushed out her chest, raised the torch in her hand, and leaned on her staff as she walked toward the door. The Essence sparkled brilliantly in the light of the torch. When they looked at it, they saw themselves, only as faint, black shadows in the world. Its surface was as clear as pristine water, and as they got closer, they noticed red-veined white stones encircling it like a frame. Ancient writings were inscribed on the stones, in a language even older than Ancient Saphirian. The elderly woman calmly and deliberately raised her hand and knocked on the door. They respectfully waited as the sound echoed through the open air.

The door trembled soon, as light as if it were made of air, slowly rising and revealing what lay ahead.

They were greeted by a long, seemingly endless dark corridor, illuminated only by the faint light of their torches, and two young priestesses.

They wore heavy-looking black robes with rich drapes. Both had long, unbraided hair cascading down their shoulders, and their face was as pale and white as the silver steps. It wasn't even a question of whether they had exited the corridor or seen the sun before; it was uncertain whether they could see anything at all. Their eyes were blindfolded, and their lips were tightly sealed.

The young priestesses extended their arms in a calm gesture of welcome, inviting the guests inside, without even seeing who they were. Every woman was welcomed at The Temple of The Deep Mountain, and at The Crystal Temple of The Waters.

Led by them, they ventured into the silent shadows, leaving behind the ambiance of the forest and the light of the moon. The air here was cooler surprisingly. Other than the trembling torch fire of the elderly woman, there was no source of light. Apart from the sound of their clothes brushing against each other and their breath touching the walls, there was no sound either.

After a while, the shadowy corridor ended, and the guests found themselves in front of a high-threshold dark door. As if their presence was felt, it swung open wide. The young priestesses directed them into a large yet low-ceilinged chamber. It was just bright enough to see faces. The other dark walls had also narrow doors in them, apart from which the room was empty, except for the five women, waiting for the guests.

In the center of the room stood an elderly priestess. Despite her age, she was stunningly beautiful, capable of leaving one speechless. Her eyes were captivating. They were as deep blue as the midnight sky and as golden as the first rays of morning, forming concentric rings that illuminated her eyes. They did not seem natural at all. Her white hair was braided and gathered into an elaborate bun atop her head, sitting like a crown. She wore an elegant, dark blue robe adorned with threads of gold, and silver, woven into stars and the moon. The dark blue color of her robe immediately revealed her status. In the hierarchy, just before dark purple, blue was held by only 3 Dias in modern times, and one of them was the leader of this temple.

With a graceful gesture, she invited the visitors before her with a warm but authoritative tone.

"Welcome, seekers of wisdom. I hope that on this special night, you will find the answers you are looking for," she said with a smile. "You are safe and welcome here. You may remove your veils."

As she spoke, her sparkling eyes wandered over the veiled faces of the visitors, even though they all knew they were being seen. There was nothing to hide within these walls. Not even their deepest thoughts, perhaps.

They removed their veils as instructed. Among them were two young girls, small and slender figures, not yet in their teenage years. Their eyes were wide open with innocence and curiosity. When they met the gaze of Dia Seraphine, they immediately bowed with a mix of embarrassment and respect.

The woman in the middle, taller and broader-shouldered than the others, also unveiled herself. Blonde, rich curls tumbled over her shoulders from beneath the veil. She had a broad forehead, a strong jaw, a slim, aquiline nose, and eyes as blue as the morning sea.

The eyes of the priestess studied each face individually. When she looked at the woman with blonde curls, she smiled, closed her eyes, and inclined her head. "Welcome, Your Majesty," she said, her voice filling the room. "Your royal presence honors us. We have done our best to make your journey as comfortable as possible. I hope you have found it restful, and that this place becomes a haven of tranquility for your heart."

"We shall see," came a lifeless and indifferent reply. Her gaze held a cold, arrogant air.

The priestess's smile didn't waver. She motioned to the two young girls in front of her, as if she hadn't heard the lady's response. With a gesture of her hand, she beckoned them to her side. The young girls hesitated for a moment, they glanced back at their lady. After receiving a nod of approval, they walked over to the High Priestess and stood before her.

The old woman gently pulled them closer with a kind aura despite the intimidation of her rank. Her demeanor was polite and compassionate. With a soft touch, she examined them. She looked at their pale wrists and necks, then their lips, eyes, and ears. Her touch was as gentle as a breeze, but the girls trembled like leaves in the wind. She smiled at the petite girl who resembled a small, beautiful gazelle who was looking at her with her big brown eyes. "Are you hungry, child?"

The woman with blonde curls seemed tense at this question. She took a quick step forward. "They have taken a vow of silence," she explained. "For 9 months and 10 days, they have not spoken, not been seen. They do not eat meat. They are both virgins, I made sure of that. For the past 6 days, we have not provided them any food. They are fasting, allowed only to drink blessed water."

The elderly priestess looked thoughtfully from the woman to the young girls. "I see. And are you remorseful?"

When the girls realized that the question was directed at them, they quickly shook their heads from side to side. The priestess smiled, approving of their response. She brought her hands to their faces, gently caressing their cheeks with a look of tenderness and emotion in her eyes. "Tonight, you shall feast, children. You shall feast and sleep well. You belong here now. I know the effort you have put in, how tired you must be, and how difficult it is to even stand. I am proud of you both. Valara se Lania's."

"Valara se Lania's," the other women in the room repeated, except for the lady.

After Dia finished her words, the two young girls exchanged a bewildered look. The Priestess withdrew her hands and her gaze shifted to the young servants waiting in the room, unnoticed in her shadow. With a single gesture, she beckoned them forward. "Prepare their baths and adorn them in suitable attire," she instructed, her voice carrying a calm tone of command. "Be gentle, peaceful, and understanding. Welcome them with joy."

The servants bowed, saluting, and moved forward to accompany the young girls. The girls turned hesitantly once more, looking back at their lady, and met her almost disdainful, disgusted gaze. Her brows were furrowed, and her lips were curled. When she noticed their hesitation, she turned her head, averting her eyes from them. "Do as they command. You are free now."

Free.

Free temple, and its free souls.

Following the servants, the priestess smiled as she watched the girls leave the room, while their lady didn't even glance back at them. One entered the door on the right wall, and the other entered the door on the left, both stepping into an endless darkness.

After the doors closed and they were alone, the lady looked at The Priestess with disgust, from head to toe. "You promised them a feast," she said, with anger and contempt.

"Yes, I did. And I did not lie. Tonight, they will feast and sleep in peace, Your Majesty,' the priestess replied calmly, turning to face her. "Isn't that the very reason you came here as well?"