Lustborn

The temple was quiet the next morning, too quiet.

Not even the bells rang.

She sat beside Tavian's bed, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. His face was peaceful now, as though the demon had never carved its way through him like a blade. But she knew better. The silence in the air wasn't peace. It was aftermath.

She should have reported it.

Should have told the High Seer what happened between these walls—how the demon took him, how she almost let it happen.

But she couldn't. Not yet.

She didn't want them to take Tavian away.

And worse… she didn't want them to look at her differently. As if they knew what she'd almost done.

As if they could smell the hunger still clinging to her skin.

She looked down at her hands. They had held his face. Had almost pulled him into something she didn't fully understand. Or maybe… didn't want to understand. Her body remembered every second, even if her mind tried to file it away as madness.

Her lips still tingled from almost touching his.

And that was the problem. It had been almost.

Because the demon was clever. He didn't just tempt—he gave her exactly what she wanted, for a breath, a heartbeat, a whisper—and then took it away.

The door creaked behind her.

She turned sharply.

Mira.

The girl with storm-colored eyes and a mouth that rarely smiled.

"Word is spreading," Mira said. "That Tavian fell ill. That he spoke in tongues."

She tensed. "Who told you?"

"I listen," Mira said simply. "You should too."

There was something different in her gaze. Not judgment, but something heavier—like recognition.

"You've seen it too," she whispered.

Mira walked into the room slowly, her robes whispering against the floor. "Not like this. But I've felt the pull. The shift. We all have, in some way. This temple doesn't just sanctify—it awakens."

"Awakens what?" she asked.

Mira's eyes locked with hers. "The truths we bury deepest. The ones that burn."

A chill rippled across her spine.

"What do you want from me?"

"To warn you." Mira's voice lowered. "The Seers feel it. They think something old is stirring in the lower halls. They think it's tied to you."

She blinked. "Me?"

Mira stepped closer. "You're Lustborn. It was never just a curse. It's a tether. To something older than sin."

Those words lodged themselves in her chest like glass. She wanted to deny it—but the look in Mira's eyes told her the truth was no longer hers to hide.

"You need to go down," Mira said. "To the lowest vault. To the root. Before the Seers do. Before they decide you're the cause."

She hesitated. "Will you help me?"

Mira nodded once. "I will. But if what's down there awakens fully…" she paused, then added, "I'll kill it. Even if it wears your face."

Her heart clenched—but she didn't look away. She respected that kind of honesty.

She stood slowly, casting one last glance at Tavian. He didn't stir.

Then she followed Mira out.

The halls felt colder than before. Less like marble and more like bone.

As they descended the winding staircase, torches blinked out behind them.

The stone beneath their feet began to hum—softly, like the echo of a memory clawing its way back into the world.

"I don't understand," she said as they reached the bottom. "Why me? Why this path?"

Mira didn't look at her. "Because you burn. And whatever's down here... it remembers the flame."

They reached the iron door.

And behind it, something waited.

Breathing.

Smiling.

Remembering.