Liora stepped through the luminous doorway—the ancient wooden gate sealing shut behind her with a whisper, as if the temple itself held its breath.
Outside, an oppressive silence fell. No more awestruck murmurs, no rustling of robes—just the weight of unspoken words hanging thick in the air. It was the kind of quiet that begged for a falling star to shatter it, for anything to cut through the tension.
Then, Elder Amir broke the stillness.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing slightly, "I shall take my leave first."
King Darius didn't turn. "Yes, Elder. I'll follow shortly."
As they moved toward the stairs, the Elder hesitated, glancing at Elowen. "Princess… will you descend as well?"
She offered a polite but rigid half-bow, her eyes never leaving the sealed door. "No, Elder, I wish to linger here a while longer. Please do not concern yourself with me; proceed as you need. You surely require rest after such a hectic day."
Elder Amir returned the bow with a smile and gestured toward the stairs, saying to the king, "After you, Your Majesty." The king moved forward a step, paused, and said, "You go ahead, Elder. I'll follow shortly."
With a nod, the old man descended, his footsteps fading into the gloom below.
Minutes stretched. The King's gaze drifted to the horizon, but his voice, when it came, was razor-close, meant for Elowen alone.
"I know you might never forgive me, my child. No matter how often I explain my reasons or express my deep regret, it won't undo my mistakes."
Elowen stood frozen, her back to him, her silhouette outlined against the temple door.
He took another step forward, sighed, and continued, "But I still pray for you. I pray that you don't become someone you'll later regret."
His hand flexed at his side, aching to reach out.
"I am also grateful that fate has brought Liora into your life. She is a good person, and I can see love and kindness in you once more. Though it's not directed at me, I'm thankful you've returned to being the daughter I once knew—full of love, compassion, warmth, and care."
He advanced another step, pausing one last time to say, "Even though not in my arms, I'm glad to see you as you once were."
Then, with the slow grace of a man bearing centuries, he too departed, leaving Elowen alone—with the ghost of a smile on her lips and two words swallowed by the dark:
"…Stubborn old man."
Elowen's whisper dissolved into the night wind, unheard.
Beyond the temple door, Liora treaded cautiously, for the scene before her starkly contrasted with the previous two trials.
Upon passing through the door, she found herself in a corridor akin to those in ordinary homes, except the ceiling was unusually low, forcing her to slightly duck her head as she proceeded.
At the end of the hallway, she spotted a kitchen with an inviting nook.
A small fire flickered within the hearth, atop which sat a silver teapot, gently releasing wisps of steam through its spout.
The scent of steaming ironwort tea curled through the air as she approached a cozy kitchen. There, perched on a wooden chair like a scholar in a study, sat—
An orangutan.
Wearing hand-carved, wooden-framed spectacles.
Sipping tea with perfect pinky-out refinement.
His hair was sparse, eyebrows long and drooping, matching his modest beard.
Seeing Liora's astonishment, he greeted her warmly, "Ah, you've arrived! Come sit here."
He gestured to an empty chair beside him. Liora hesitated but managed to reply, "Th-thank you."
The orangutan—threw back his head and laughed like a rusted hinge, "HAHAHA! Haven't you met creatures like me before? Why so frightened?"
Liora pulled the offered chair back slightly before sitting down, explaining, "I-I'm not scared, just... always shocked upon first meeting you all. Forgive me."
"Pfft! No apologies needed," he chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Ancient beasts love peculiar appearances!"
Liora thought to herself, 'Aren't you the same?'
"Now then," the orangutan clapped, ""What's your name, young lady?"
"Liora Belle," she responded, now more composed.
Smiling, he replied, "Beautiful name! I'm Eldric. Let me pour you some tea."
As Eldric prepared the tea, Liora admired the tidy, well-kept room filled with books and trinkets, a perfect balance of order and warmth. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books and curios arranged with almost meticulous affection.
In one corner, a cluster of delicate flowers bloomed, their petals vibrant and well-tended—rivaling even the royal gardens, Liora noted silently.
Eldric returned with a steaming cup of tea, its aroma rich and inviting, the color a perfect amber hue that spoke of masterful brewing.
"Here you are," he said cheerfully, placing it before her. "Let it cool a bit—no need to rush."
"Thank you," Liora murmured, she lifted the cup, blowing gently across the surface as the fragrant steam curled around her face. "Hmm… when does the trial begin?" she asked, unable to suppress her curiosity.
Eldric chuckled, "Not in a hurry, are we? My trial isn't hard. Let's relax with this tea first."
Liora gave an awkward laugh—this was not what she had expected from an Ancient Beast. Gathering her courage, she ventured another question. "Can I ask you something?"
"Oh, by all means!" Eldric grinned, settling back into his chair. "Ask away! If I know the answer, I'll gladly share. Hahaha!"
"Do all Ancient Beasts have their own unique forms?" she asked. "Or… have you always looked like this?"
Eldric's eyes twinkled behind his spectacles before he burst into another round of laughter.
"Ah! We're not like other creatures you've met," he explained, stroking his scruffy beard. "At our core, we're pure energy—spirits, if you will. That means we can take any shape or size we please."
Liora's eyes widened slightly—this was new information.
"When we were first summoned to guide humanity," Eldric continued, "we had no fixed forms. But the Ten Saints—those ten mischievous children—suggested we take on animal shapes to make communication easier."
He took a slow sip of tea, then smirked. "Of course, that led to plenty of debates. Just because we lacked physical forms didn't mean we lacked opinions! Hahaha!"
"Take Solara, for example," he went on, clearly enjoying the memory.
"Felix wanted her to be a phoenix—elegant, majestic. And she agreed! But then she insisted on being so enormous that anyone who saw her would faint from sheer awe. Hahahaha!"
Liora couldn't help but laugh along.
"And Sylphine?" Eldric added, shaking his head. "Oh, she picked her own form without consulting Lux at all. That boy couldn't be bothered—he just shrugged and said, 'Do whatever you want!' Hahaha!"
"What about you?" Liora asked, leaning in slightly. "How did you end up… well, like this?"
Eldric stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Ah, my summoner wanted a grandfatherly figure—someone comforting. So here I am: a wise old ape with bad posture and excellent tea. Hahahaha!"
His laughter faded into a nostalgic sigh as he gazed into his cup. "The forms we took… they reflect both our natures and the hearts of those who summoned us."
Then, with a wistful smile, he added, "Take Theodore, for instance—bookish, rigid, always lecturing about 'logic' and 'theory.' The others called him the most boring of the Ten Saints. Hahahaha!"
Liora giggled awkwardly, struck by how utterly human these legendary figures sounded. The tales passed down painted them as solemn, almost mythical—not bickering over shapes and sizes like children.
Eldric's expression softened as he stared into his tea, his voice quieter now. "But for all his stiffness… Theodore never lost his temper, never retaliated when teased. He held firm to his beliefs… yet stood by the others without fail."
A silence settled between them, filled with the weight of memories.
Liora found herself smiling—not just at the absurdity of it all, but at the realization that these towering legends were once just… people.
And perhaps, in time, she might walk a similar path.
Eldric's voice grew softer, tinged with admiration. "But Theodore never once grew angry or bitter—no matter how they teased him. He stood firm in his beliefs, yet never raised his voice against the others. Instead, he worked alongside them, shoulder to shoulder, until their dreams became reality." He swirled his tea thoughtfully. "Ten wildly different souls... united as one."
Liora felt something tighten in her chest. The weight of her new role settled deeper—she was inheriting more than power; she was inheriting their legacy.
For a long moment, silence lingered as they sipped their tea, the warmth spreading through Liora's fingers. The tranquility almost made her forget this was a trial at all.
Then, as the last drops of tea vanished from their cups, Eldric clapped his hands together.
"Right then, Liora!" he chirped, snapping her back to attention. "Ready for your trial?"
She nodded eagerly, bracing herself for some impossible test of strength or wit.
Eldric's grin widened. "As I said—mine's the easiest of all. You simply need to... make me a cup of tea."
Liora blinked. "I—what?"
Her forehead creased so deeply it could've held ink. She leaned forward, certain she'd misheard. "A cup of... tea?"
"Yes, yes!" Eldric laughed, waving a furry hand. "No tricks! Watch me brew it first, then you'll replicate my steps. Simple, no?"
Liora scratched her head, letting out an awkward chuckle. "I-I mean... if that's all, then yes. Very simple." (Internally: There's no way it's this easy.)
"Marvelous! Follow me, then—observational skills are key!"
She trailed him to the kitchen, hovering at a respectful distance as Eldric bustled about with surprising grace.
His every movement was deliberate: the scoop of leaves, the pour of water, the way he swirled the pot just so—a ritual disguised as routine.
Liora's eyes narrowed. This was the trial? Mimicking tea-making?
...Why did that unsettle her more than a battlefield would have?
Liora took a deep breath, focusing her gaze as she watched how Eldric brews tea. It was just tea—just water and leaves.
But somehow, in the quiet presence of an ancient soul and the weight of countless forgotten lessons, it felt like the most important brew in all of Thalvoria.
And somewhere in the steam, her destiny was steeping.