The temple air hums with age and sacred magic.
Moss carpets the stone floors in delicate patches, and vines drape down like sleepy curtains from archways above. Ancient murals stretch across the walls, depicting forest spirits twirling through groves and rising from rivers with arms full of flowers and songbirds.
Zora floats ahead, casting gentle balls of golden light from his palms. They bounce through the halls like lazy fireflies, illuminating the path. "This place is… exquisite," he says in awe, eyes wide as he drifts forward like a moth to a museum.
The three witches follow behind him in silence, their bare feet padding soundlessly on the stone. Each one stops at various statues or carvings to bow reverently or whisper a quiet prayer. Their faces glow in the enchanted light, lips moving with chants passed down for generations.
The rest of the team trails behind at a slower pace.
