The group, consisting of Lyria, Atesso, Cyrus, and Izel, drew nearer to the grand temple dedicated to Lord Indra. As the majestic structure loomed ahead, Lyria decided it was time to part ways briefly, to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. She broke away from her companions, knowing that their mission required a subtle, coordinated approach.

Entering the temple separately, they soon found themselves immersed in a sea of worshippers who had gathered in anticipation of the ceremony. The atmosphere inside was nothing short of awe-inspiring. The temple's interior was adorned with intricate designs, ornate tapestries, and golden accents that shimmered in the soft candlelight. The high, arched ceilings gave the space a sense of grandeur that made even the most devout worshippers feel humble in the presence of their divine lord.

The centerpiece of the temple was the colossal statue of Lord Indra, an embodiment of power and divinity. Towering above all, it reached almost to the heavens, with a magnificence that inspired reverence in those who gazed upon it. Lord Indra's image, carved from the finest stone, was adorned with jewels and precious metals that glinted and shimmered, casting a radiant aura across the sacred chamber.

Around the statue, votive offerings of various sizes and shapes had been placed by devotees. Luminous candles, fragrant incense, and vibrant garlands of flowers adorned the divine figure, enhancing the temple's grandeur. The very air seemed to vibrate with a spiritual energy, as people from all walks of life eagerly awaited the ceremony.

Lyria, on her part, navigated through the crowd to reach the front of the altar, ensuring that her presence did not go unnoticed. The temple's ambiance, combined with the imposing statue of Lord Indra, invoked a profound sense of divinity and devotion that pulsed throughout the sacred space.

Meanwhile, the temple did not keep the worshippers waiting for long. The grand doors leading to the inner chambers of the temple swung open, and the priest entered with a small entourage of women, all dressed in resplendent attire. Their radiant presence added to the ceremonial magnificence of the moment.

At the heart of the temple, the priest and Saya, who had skillfully disguised herself as a member of the inner sanctuary, walked to the grand statue of Lord Indra. There, they joined hands in prayer, heads bowed in reverence to the divine figure that symbolized their faith.

The collective power of faith and devotion in the temple was palpable, creating an immersive experience that left an indelible mark on the hearts of all those who bore witness to it. The beauty of the temple's decor, the grandiosity of the statue, and the deep spiritual connection within the sacred chamber formed the backdrop for the pivotal moments that lay ahead.

As Saya, dressed as a member of the inner sanctuary, conducted her instructions for the young women surrounding her, the priest observed the entire process with a sense of contentment. He watched as Saya gave guidance to the women, ensuring that they were well-prepared for the upcoming ceremony. The women listened intently, their expressions a mix of anticipation and nervousness, for they understood the importance of their roles in this sacred ritual.

Standing to the side, the priest couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He had successfully gathered two exceptionally beautiful women for the forthcoming offering, and the addition of Saya as an apparent member of the inner sanctuary had greatly amplified the temple's influence in the city. The priest's heart swelled with pride, for he believed that this achievement would undoubtedly earn him recognition.

From his vantage point at the altar, the priest scanned the faces of the devoted worshippers who had gathered to witness the ceremony. Among the crowd, he spotted Lyria, who had introduced herself as Meera. His satisfaction with her choice had not waned, as she blended seamlessly with the congregation, her presence nearly unnoticeable. Meera's dedication and poise had made her a valuable asset, and the priest could only imagine the benefits her presence would bring.

Yet, there was a nagging thought at the back of his mind. The priest couldn't help but reflect on the events leading up to this moment. Acquiring Saya had come at a significant cost. The precious Sanjeevani, a rare and limited medicine obtained from the inner sanctuary, had been part of the trade. It was an invaluable resource that he rarely received, and he had stocked up on it over time. Giving it away for the sake of gaining Saya, the woman who would serve as the main offering, had been a difficult choice. The priest had doubted himself in the aftermath of the transaction, feeling a sense of loss and regret over the Sanjeevani.

However, his brief internal struggle was overshadowed by his rationality. He had acquired two women of exceptional quality, and this was a significant win for the temple. As he looked out at the worshippers, the priest's confidence returned, bolstered by the knowledge that his actions had elevated the temple's influence in the city.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he watched over the preparations, eager to see the ceremony unfold and to reap the rewards of his successful endeavors. The priest's heart swelled with anticipation, as he believed that his dedication would soon be recognized and rewarded by the higher order.

The temple's ceremony unfolded with a palpable air of reverence, each devotee participating with deep devotion. It was a grand spectacle, with the resplendent statue of Lord Indra serving as the focal point. The statue, carved from the purest marble, was a testament to the craftsmanship of the temple's artisans. It depicted Lord Indra in all his divine splendor, his face etched with benevolence, and his multiple arms outstretched, each bearing symbols of his power. The deity's serene expression exuded a sense of divine grace that left the worshipers awestruck.

The temple's interior was adorned with intricate tapestries, hanging as if to capture every whisper of prayer that filled the space. Golden candelabras bathed the surroundings in a soft, ethereal light, casting mesmerizing shadows that danced on the temple walls. The atmosphere was charged with the scent of fragrant incense, a fragrant cloud that drifted lazily through the air. The polished marble floors reflected the divine offerings laid before the altar, giving the illusion of a luminous pathway to the heavens.

As the ceremonies continued, the priest observed every detail with satisfaction, his heart swelling with pride. He had succeeded in assembling a group of beautiful women from the city for the night's offering. Though they are not as beautiful as Lyria ( introduced herself to the priest Meera ) and Says, Each woman carried herself with poise and grace, adding to the spectacle that was the temple's ritual. The worshippers watched in reverence, their faith growing stronger with each passing moment.

Yet, what the priest remained blissfully unaware of was the subtle tension simmering beneath the surface. Saya, who had been given the duty to oversee the proceedings, couldn't help but feel a growing sense of frustration. She kept her composure, but deep within, a storm of jealousy raged. She had undergone much to reach her current position. To her, the opportunity given to another, seemingly without effort, felt like a theft of what should have been rightfully hers.

Lyria, the woman who posed as Meera, was also aware of the pair's attention. She sensed their gazes upon her, the intensity of which wasn't lost on her. With the wisdom of someone who had lived a life in the shadows, Lyria refused to react outwardly to their scrutiny. She understood that revealing any hint of unease would risk blowing their cover, something she couldn't afford. So, she continued to play her part, maintaining the facade of a devoted worshiper amidst the crowd.

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The ceremony reached its conclusion, and the moment of offering was complete. The worshippers began to disperse, their hearts filled with devotion and faith. Lyria, in the guise of Meera, started to make her way toward the temple's exit.

It was then that the priest, moving past her in a seemingly casual manner, leaned in to whisper softly in her ear, his breath warm and intimate. "Don't forget, tonight, come to the temple."

Lyria didn't react to the whispered words, maintaining her poise and the guise of a humble devotee. The priest continued on his path as if nothing had transpired.

Meanwhile, Saya observed the interaction, her heart heavy with envy. She watched Lyria as she left the temple, her gaze lingering on the woman who had seemingly stolen an opportunity that should have been Saya's. In that moment, Saya's determination to protect her position as Indra loyal maid intensified.

As the night descended upon the city, the moon cast its silvery glow upon the temple, imparting an almost ethereal quality to its surroundings. In the shadows, Lyria met with her teammates to finalize their plan. Cyrus couldn't help but be anxious, understanding the profound strength that Lyria possessed. He knew that strength alone wasn't the key to success in this mission, and he voiced his concerns.

"Lyria, I can't help but be worried," Cyrus admitted, his tone filled with genuine concern. "We all know you're more than capable of taking on the priest or anyone in this temple, but there's more to this than strength. What if things don't go as planned?"

Lyria offered a reassuring smile and laid a gentle hand on Cyrus's shoulder. "Cyrus, I've come to realize that in missions like these, strength is not the only currency. We've planned this meticulously, and I believe in our team. Everything will work out. You'll see."

Cyrus nodded, appreciating her reassurance, though a hint of unease still lingered in his expression. Lyria knew the weight of their mission and the risks involved, but she also knew that they had come too far to falter now.

With that, she headed toward the temple, aware that the hours of anticipation were coming to a close. The temple, so vibrant and teeming with life during the day, had transformed into a place of solemn tranquility. The devotees who had danced and sung with fervor earlier were now in a deep slumber, their energy spent by the day's festivities.

The grand hall of the temple, where the ceremonies had taken place, was now serene and empty, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight that filtered through the temple's grand windows. It was in this quiet stillness that Lyria found her path.

She made her way toward the altar with grace and confidence, her steps echoing through the hall as she moved with purpose. Yet, before she could reach her destination, a woman emerged from the shadows, her presence accompanied by an air of palpable hostility.

Saya, the woman who had come to the temple the same night as Lyria, didn't conceal her feelings. Her voice dripped with resentment as she spoke, her words tinged with jealousy. "I heard you've been in this city for just ten days, and you're already getting this chance. You're quite lucky, aren't you?"

Lyria responded to Saya's animosity with a serene smile. "It's an honor to serve the Lord, and I'm grateful for this opportunity."

Saya's voice, laced with irritation, continued to convey her discontent. "Your name is Meera, right? Don't think that just because the priest favors you, you're special. On my first day, he treated me like a special person too."

Lyria nodded, but she offered no words in return. She was aware that engaging in a verbal exchange with Saya would be fruitless. She had observed the depth of Saya's attachment to the priest and knew that Saya was far from being a rational thinker at this point.

Seeing Lyria's silence as arrogance, Saya's anger flared. "Come on, the priest is waiting."

With that, the two women proceeded toward the inner sanctum of the temple, where their encounter with the priest awaited. The tension between them was palpable, with Saya's frustration simmering just beneath the surface. She couldn't shake the feeling that Lyria was trying to snatch away a position that she believed was rightfully hers, and this mission had become a battleground for their contrasting emotions and ambitions.

The walk through the inner halls of the temple was a silent one, filled with tension that seemed to emanate from Saya herself. The two women moved in almost eerie harmony, their steps echoing softly against the temple's hallowed walls. As they neared their destination, the air grew thicker with anticipation.

Saya reached the door to the priest's chamber and, with a sense of impatience, pushed it open. Her actions were brusque, as though she couldn't stand to be in Lyria's presence a moment longer. It was then that she turned, casting a harsh gaze at Lyria, and spoke in a voice that was barely contained, "What are you doing? Come in."

Lyria, unshaken by Saya's rudeness, took a deep breath and entered the chamber, her gaze falling upon the scene that lay before her. The chamber was lit with soft, ambient candlelight, casting a warm and intimate glow upon the room. It was sparsely adorned, with the centerpiece being a long bed, elegantly decorated with fresh roses and other fragrant flowers. The room was filled with the sweet scent of the blooms, mingling with the faint scent of incense.

In the middle of the room, the priest stood, his attire reduced to a mere pair of pants. His chest was bare, and the candlelight danced upon his skin, casting intriguing shadows. His eyes lit up upon seeing Lyria, and he approached her with a warm smile.

"Meera," he said, his voice tender, "you've done a wonderful job. It takes a great deal of courage to take the first step. Now that you have, the path ahead will be much easier."

He reached out to touch Lyria's hand, leading her further into the chamber. As they moved closer to the bed, Saya stood to the side, her expression conflicted. She had done as the priest had instructed, bringing Lyria to this chamber, but the jealousy and frustration that had boiled within her had not dissipated. Her hopes and ambitions hung in the balance.

The priest, however, seemed aware of Saya's internal turmoil. With a reassuring tone, he spoke to her, "Saya, you've played your part wonderfully in escorting Meera here. Now, you should take some rest."

Saya's eyes revealed her inner turmoil as she struggled with the realization that she was to be left on the periphery. She knew she had little control over the situation, and she had to trust that the priest would keep his word. The future hung in uncertainty, and the uncertainty weighed heavily on her.

Her anxiety did not go unnoticed by the priest, who sought to ease her concerns. "Don't worry, Saya," he said soothingly, "I won't forget about you. Tomorrow night, the guards of the inner sanctuary will come to the city to receive the offerings. At that time, you and Meera will be leaving for Indraprastha."

With his words, the room took on a sense of finality, and the three of them stood in that chamber, each carrying their own burden. In the candlelit, rose-scented chamber of the temple, the future loomed with promise, desire, and uncertainty.

The priest's words echoed in the chamber as Saya acknowledged them with a solemn nod. She turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her, leaving only two people within the intimate confines of the chamber. Now, there was only Lyria and the priest.

The chamber, once filled with the fragrance of roses, took on an eerie stillness. The candlelight flickered gently, casting dancing shadows upon the walls. But even in that hushed atmosphere, the priest's voice continued, attempting to break the silence.

"Meera," he said to Lyria, his tone reassuring, "are you nervous? Don't worry. If you complete this test today, from tomorrow, your life will be changed."

However, despite his comforting words, Lyria kept her head bowed, her expression hidden. The priest couldn't discern her emotions, and his curiosity led him to question her further. "Why are you not showing your face? Are you nerv—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a deafening explosion reverberated through the chamber, a sound that shook the very foundation of the room. The priest's eyes widened in shock, and he made a frantic attempt to rush towards the door, panic overtaking him. But as he took his first step, an iron grip seized his shoulder, preventing him from escaping.

Startled, the priest looked back to find Lyria, her eyes as cold and unyielding as the steel of a blade, her grip on his shoulder unwavering. Fear gripped him as he realized that something was terribly amiss, that the narrative he had carefully constructed was about to unravel.

Desperation drove him to struggle and break free from Lyria's grasp. He flailed, but before he could wriggle out of her hold, an unstoppable force crashed into his face. The impact was devastating, a blow so powerful that it sent the priest hurtling through the air. His body slammed into the wall with brutal force, causing the structure to groan and the walls to crack.

The priest fell to the ground, blood flowing from the corner of his mouth. He gasped for breath, his body wracked with pain. He tried to rise, his vision blurred and his head ringing. He glanced up at Lyria, who now stood before him, her expression devoid of emotion, the embodiment of implacable determination.

In his befuddled state, the priest looked at Lyria and managed to croak out a single question. "Who are you?"

With unwavering resolve, Lyria uttered a single, cold response. "Your executioner"