Terya stepped forward, her wind magic coiling at her fingertips, her eyes alert.

"Get a room, you two lovebirds," she whispered, loud enough to make Leon flush, though Zara's smirk suggested she wasn't entirely annoyed.

Leon's grin faded as Terya's tone sharpened.

"We don't have time for romance. Stay sharp."

The ruined gate loomed, veins of living Bloodvine weaving through its arches, glowing red with wicked power, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Terya coiled her wind magic around her fist and flicked her wrist, a miniature gale slashing through the vines, parting them like curtains.

They flared away, revealing a narrow doorway, the red mist pouring through, thick and damp, pressing against them like a living thing.

Leon blinked, tasting iron, each breath heavier.

"Let's get this over with," Zara muttered, stepping forward, her boots crunching broken stone, her axe shifting.

Leon swallowed hard, adjusting his pack. "I… yeah."

Terya brushed his shoulder, her touch warm. "We've got this," she said softly, her green eyes steady.

They crossed the threshold together, the air changing instantly—no mist, no hum, just a hollow stillness, like a corpse sealed in its tomb.

Stained glass windows lined the central nave, a vaulted hall of gothic arches, portraying Lysara's ascension: a woman crowned in light, lifting a chalice.

But the scenes were corrupted—crimson liquid spilling, her eyes empty voids, a raven perched on a ruined temple.

The cracked marble floor was etched with Veil glyphs, glowing faintly as they stepped in.

Shattered bone pillars lay like broken ribs, shadows shifting in the corners.

Whispers echoed from behind the walls.

"Come in… come in… take the light…"

Leon's heart pounded as they neared the sanctum, but Zara stopped, pressing a hand against a pillar root, sweat shimmering on her brow.

"Again," she rasped, pain flickering in her blue eyes, the curse marks flaring deeper red.

Leon dropped beside her, wrapping a hand around her pant leg, bracing her.

His palm pressed above the curse, a quiet permission to help.

The warmth blossomed, gold suffusing her flesh, dimming the glow.

Zara inhaled, her stoic mask softening, her hand resting gently atop his. "You're… good at this," she said, her voice breathy, hushed.

Leon held her gaze, his grin faint. "I'm learning."

Their hands lingered, his steady, hers curling softly, a moment of trust passing between them. Terya cleared her throat, her blades drawn, her expression resolute. "After you," she said, her voice firm.

The central chamber lay beyond—a shrine room lit by broken chandeliers, bone spires encircling a circular altar.

Its top was polished but streaked with crimson sap, holding dried petals, crumbled incense, old ale bottles—and, at the center, a Bloodvine fruit on a silver saucer, glowing red, its veins pulsating like a living heart, slick and cracked, humming with the forest's whispers.

Leon stared, his breath constricting.

"That's what we came for," Zara said, her voice reverent, her blue eyes fixed on the fruit.

Terya stood by the altar, her wind magic swirling faintly.

"Only complicates things that much more," she whispered. "Now we need to protect it—and keep moving."

A distant clink sounded behind a half-shattered pillar, the light shifting, flickering. Terya tensed, turning sharply.

"Ambush," she hissed.

Veilbound sorcerers emerged from the shadows—cloaked forms, red-eyed, blood dripping from ceremonial silver bowls.

One raised his hands, flinging a crimson orb of liquid blood, spinning with silvery runes, hurtling toward Terya, hissing malevolently.

Leon's breath caught.

He looked at Zara, then Terya, none with time to prepare.

A flicker in the shadows—then came the hiss.

Terya lunged forward, her wind arc slicing through the air, dispersing a crimson blood orb an inch from her face.

The spell exploded midair with a wet squelch, painting the cracked stone of the Temple of Lysara with red mist.

The air grew thick, heavy, the Crimson Veil's whispers pulsing like a heartbeat.

They were surrounded.

From behind shattered columns and collapsed pews, four Veilbound sorcerers emerged—tattered crimson robes clinging to their emaciated frames, hoods drawn low, faces masked in dried blood, hollow sockets glowing faint red beneath bone-stitched runes.

One clutched a rusted dagger, another a staff of twisted flesh and glass, their steps leaving bloody footprints on the marble floor.

"By the Veil… I hate cults," Terya growled, flipping her daggers with a flourish, her leather top torn, clinging to her sweat-slicked curves.

Zara surged forward, curse be damned, her axe swinging down with a scream of metal, cleaving through a pew and nearly catching a sorcerer.

He deflected with a blood shield, the blow throwing him back, cracking a pillar.

Her silver hair whipped, her curse marks glowing molten red, her blue eyes fierce despite her trembling arm.

Leon stumbled backward, coughing, eyes wide, his reforged dagger clutched tightly.

The temple's crimson light pulsed, narrowing the space, the air suffocating.

Fear rooted him, his hands shaking, sweat clinging to his brow.

He raised his hand—"Wind Arc!"—but only a feeble gust flickered, vanishing in the Veil's weight.

"Come on," he muttered, his breath quickening. "Come on, don't freeze now…"

Another orb—a spiraling coil of congealed blood—shot toward him.

"Leon!" Terya shouted, her voice sharp.

Zara was already there, tackling him to the floor, the orb exploding where his chest had been.

The pressure burst rattled the stained glass above, sending jagged crimson shards raining down like snow.

Zara grunted, her weight warm and heavy atop him, her breath hot against his neck, her silver hair loose, brushing his face, her curse glyphs glowing faintly along her collarbone.

"Next time, move your ass, healer," she muttered, her voice gruff but laced with a faint smirk.

Leon blinked up at her, breathless, his heart pounding. "Right. Sorry," he croaked, his face flushing under her intense blue gaze.

She rolled off, grumbling, "You're lucky I'm fond of idiots," her hand steadying him briefly before she stood, axe ready.

Another sorcerer chanted, glyphs glowing around his feet.

Terya sprinted across the ruined nave, her top's torn strap slipping, revealing flushed skin.

She ducked a wave of blood-spikes, somersaulted between pillars, and slashed both blades in an arc.

Her wind surged, sharper now, tearing a chunk from the sorcerer's shoulder.

He screamed, collapsing.

"One down," she panted, her green eyes blazing.

"Three to go!"

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