Serena lost count somewhere after the eighth puzzle. The temple dragged them through hours.
Chamber after chamber. Puzzle after puzzle.
Each one more viciously engineered than the last, as though the architects had designed this place with a specific hatred for anyone foolish enough to enter and a grudging respect for anyone stubborn enough to keep going.
Her magic burned through her veins until her insides felt scorched. Both pink and gold. She'd never felt that drained sensation with her gold before, but it was there. This temple either was making it harder for her to use it, or when she could use it, was taking too much. She wasn't sure.
Her limbs trembled. Her breath had gone thin three rooms ago and hadn't recovered. She kept moving because stopping meant dying, and dying meant the people behind her died too.
