Morning light filtered through the kitchen windows, soft and gold. The scent of crisped bread and apple jam lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy roast of coffee. Their plates sat mostly untouched. Neither of them had much appetite, not really.

There were glances—more than usual. Touches that lingered too long to be casual. A kiss placed behind an ear when passing. Fingers brushing with aching deliberation. A silent rhythm played between them, slow and heavy.

Like maybe, just maybe, time would slow if they wished hard enough.

Like if they held each other tighter, the world might hold still with them.

Because the world they’d woken up to… it wasn’t the one they’d known yesterday.

They didn’t know what the pink column meant. What lay beyond the newly opened temple door. What Jina would find, or what Subira might say. What waited in the Flow.

But they knew something had shifted.

And they weren’t sure if they’d ever go back.

They sat at the table in the kitchen, coffee mugs warm between their palms, when a knock came at the door.

Both of them stood at the same time. Froze. Looked at each other.

Then Hassian pulled her close. Not gently. Not urgently. Just... fully. As if letting go was not an option.

He kissed her like a promise.

Then, he reached for her hand and pressed her palm against his chest.

“You feel that?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

Lyra nodded, her eyes already glassy.

“Every beat is for you, baby,” he said. “Every one.”

They went to the door together, as if they both already knew whatever waited on the other side belonged to both of them now.

Auni stood on the doorstep, breathless and bright-eyed, practically vibrating.

“Hey Hassian! Hey Lyra! Did you see that light in the sky last night? I was in my treehouse—it lit up the whole place! I wanted to go to the temple, but my mom wouldn't let me. She never lets me do anything. Oh! Lyra, Subira wants you to meet her there. It’s not fair 'cause Nai’o got to go! I mean, it’s practically right by our farm—”

“Auni,” Hassian said, trying not to laugh. “Slow down. Subira wants Lyra to come to the Night Sky Temple?”

“Yeah!” Auni nodded vigorously. “You think I can go with you, Lyra? Maybe I can help with something?”

Lyra and Hassian looked at each other. Their eyes never left one another, even as she answered.

“I’m sure you could, Auni. But not this time, buddy.”

“Awww,” he groaned. “Promise to tell me about it later?”

Her eyes softened, still fixed on Hassian’s. “Absolutely.”

“Mail call’s anyway. See you two later!” Auni turned on his heel and bounced off like a springy baby sernuk.

Lyra sighed, already reaching for her bag. As always, she slung her bow across her back.

“You’d be surprised how useful bows can be in ruined temples,” she said, flashing him a teasing glance.

Hassian didn’t argue. He only stepped forward, took her in his arms, and touched his forehead to hers.

“Everything is going to be fine,” he murmured. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’ll be home tonight.... make me something good for dinner,” she whispered.

They kissed—slow and sure.

“I love you more than life,” he said, voice rough with it.

Lyra smiled, that familiar gleam in her eyes. “I know.”

He didn’t smile back. He just stood in the doorway, quiet and still, long after she’d disappeared from view.

Night Sky Temple Arrival

Lyra’s boots crunched lightly over the worn stone path as she approached the temple. The air here was different—still humming with whatever energy had burst through the sky the night before. Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag, bow slung across her back like a promise.

Subira stood near the entrance with Jina and Hekla. The Watcher’s posture was sharper than usual, cloak drawn close, eyes sweeping like a sensor scan.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Lyra,” Subira said as she turned to her. “I returned early this morning in light of the events last night. You ladies made the right decision to wait.”

She shifted her gaze, focusing solely on Lyra. “Hekla has informed us that Einar received a communication from the Gardener. The Cosmos Protocol Lockdown has been deactivated.”

Lyra blinked. “So… systems that have been in place for literal centuries just… flipped off? And I get to be here for it.” She gave a weak smile. “Yay me.”

Jina, arms folded and clearly on edge, asked, “Are you sure no one else is here, Watcher Subira?”

“I’ve already scanned the entire area,” Subira replied. “As long as they are of this plane, they cannot hide from the Order.”

Jina gave a skeptical look. “I suppose that’s comforting—unless we’re dealing with something extradimensional. Elouisa showed me some articles about those.” She shuddered. “They had tentacles.”

Subira didn’t humor the aside. Her tone shifted, brisk and grave.

“Let’s ensure we are all on the same page,” she said. “Last night, a column of Flow energy erupted from somewhere near the Night Sky Temple. Whatever it activated… it didn’t just affect this region. Reports have come in from as far as Inyrevyn and Barafuu—matching lights, similar disturbances. But one thing’s clear. Kilima was first. Whatever began, it started here.”

Hekla nodded grimly. “The Gardener said the final Cosmos Protocol Lockdown was forcibly disabled… exactly ten minutes before the eruption.”

Lyra frowned. “Forcibly?”

“Not overridden,” Hekla clarified. “Broken open.”

Subira looked to her again. “I made only a brief scan for intruders—I was waiting for you to investigate further.”

That hit like a subtle thunderclap. An Order Watcher and a scientist But in this moment, Lyra was the one they waited for.

Subira turned back to Jina and Hekla. “Remain here and keep watch. If anything moves, if anyone else approaches—contact me immediately.”

Both women nodded, falling into position like seasoned sentries.

Subira gestured for Lyra to follow. Together, they stepped toward the inner sanctum. The temple's old stone door—previously inert, sealed shut by who-knew-what kind of Flow seal—was now cracked open.

Inside, a faint glow pulsed.
Flow.
Ancient.
Awakened.

Lyra swallowed hard and followed Subira through the threshold.

Inside the Temple — The Console

The hallway beyond the opened door was darker than the rest of the temple, as if light itself hadn’t fully agreed to return yet. Subira stepped lightly, her eyes scanning every surface, her hands occasionally brushing the walls like they might whisper something back.

The corridor curved downward in a slow spiral, carved stone giving way to sleek, ancient alloys half-swallowed by dust and time. And then—
“There,” Lyra said, pointing. “Console.”

It was unmistakably Human—sleek, humming with low power, the interface waiting like a long-forgotten riddle. Lyra approached it with the ease of someone who’d been down this rabbit hole before.

Subira stopped behind her, gaze sharp.

“Fascinating… There’s nothing in the records about this place. Jina and I poured over everything we could find on the Temples. There are blueprints for the other four, and suggestions that the Night Sky Temple was only ever meant to be a repository—retrofitted from the old Human university.”

She looked around, then back at the glowing panel. “So… what was the Cosmos Protocol hiding? And why would the Ancients want to keep it secret, even from themselves?”

Lyra shrugged, already cracking her knuckles. “Standing around won’t give us answers.”

She stepped up to the console and ran her fingertips over the surface. “This is where I shine.”

The screen pulsed to life and a prompt flickered:

ENTER PASSWORD

Lyra leaned in and typed one of the phrases that had worked in previous temples.

ACCESS DENIED

She tried another. Then another.

ACCESS DENIED

Subira said nothing, but her brows lifted slightly. Lyra glanced back with a dry smile.

“Okay, maybe I just glitter a little.”

As if responding to her frustration—or perhaps her sass—the console blinked and displayed a new message:
[ Password hint: I put the pieces of the password in the logbooks I kept. Seven in total. If you want what’s kept past this Flowwall, you better know exactly what you’re asking for. Don’t make our same mistakes. ]

Both women stared at the message in silence for a moment. Then Lyra spoke, flatly.

“…Fun.”

Subira crossed her arms. “Logbooks?”

Lyra sighed, already mentally planning the hunt. “Looks like someone really didn’t want this to be easy.”

Subira gave her a long look. “I suppose it’s better than humanity’s dark secrets just sitting around unguarded.”

A moment later, she pulled a dusty tablet from a nearby shelf. “I believe I found one of the logs mentioned.”

They set to work, searching every crumbling shelf and sealed container in the hidden archive. Hours passed in silence but for the low thrum of the Flow and the rustle of turning pages. Eventually, they’d gathered all seven records—and what they found made both women go still.

The logs weren’t blueprints or research notes. They were confessions. A record of experimentation on a new, unregulated Flow strain: cosmosflow. It shimmered across disciplines—temporal, psychic, spatial—and seemed to defy the laws even the Ancients respected. Lyra read aloud a line that made her throat tighten.

"We lost more than lives. We lost time. We lost each other. But the worst part is, we didn’t stop."

With the logs decoded, the console accepted the password. The screen rippled to life, revealing a short sequence of protocol data. The names Cosmos and Mirror glowed at the top of the interface.

“I don’t like this,” Lyra murmured. “These two protocols were accessed just before the light burst. And now this?”

Subira leaned in. “There’s more. Look.”

A log entry blinked on the screen:
—TAP ACTIVATED — LOCATION: ELDERWOOD—

Subira’s brows drew together. “These notes are quite concerning… and I must admit, a little fascinating. The Order’s records don’t contain anything with this level of depth about the end of Humanity.”

She tapped a few commands and backed up the console’s data to her device. “I’ll take these for now, study them in more detail later. But we need to focus on this: the protocols. Based on everything we’ve read, it’s reasonable to deduce that the Cosmos Protocol was involved in locking this place away—and restricting access to the Staff. The Mirror Protocol, meanwhile… that’s likely tied to last night’s beam. The light still pouring from the orb.”

“And the tap being activated in the Elderwood?” Lyra asked.

Subira shook her head. “I don’t know. But I suppose the only way to find out is to visit the Elderwood ourselves.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure it’ll be a lovely trip.”

Subira glanced at her, quiet for a moment. Then her tone shifted—more personal, less polished.

“…Allow me to drop the professionalism for a moment and address you candidly, Lyra.”

Lyra blinked. That was rare.

“The mission you undertook with Jina, investigating the other Temples—it was dangerous, yes, but you were already involved when I asked for your assistance. This, however… this is different. This is bigger. And it is not your responsibility to carry. You’ve done more than enough. If you choose to walk away now, I would understand completely.”

Lyra hesitated. Her gaze drifted toward the faintly glowing beam through the stone doors, her jaw tightening.

“You have no idea how much I’d love to walk out that door and leave all this behind,” she said quietly. “But I’m not sure I can. It leaves us with no answers. Always wondering.”

She swallowed, hard.
“What if I am just zapped back to wherever I came from someday? Maybe tomorrow, maybe in ten years. Maybe I’ll have children who need me—and suddenly, I’m just gone. I don’t get to choose.”
Her voice dropped, steady now. “No. I have to see this through. Because when I tell him I’m not going anywhere… I need to know I’m telling the truth.”

Subira nodded, no longer a researcher or an agent—just a woman who understood.

“I need to inform my superiors in the Order. Eshe needs to be brought in as well. Which means…” She hesitated. “I need you to scout ahead in the Elderwood.”

But Lyra shook her head, firm.

“No. That’s going to have to wait until tomorrow. I’m not the same girl who used to hang out in temple ruins with Jina for days at a time. I have someone waiting at home now.”
She exhaled, a hand on her hip. “And right now, I have to go break his heart a little.”

Subira said nothing—just gave a quiet, understanding nod.