The moon hangs like a polished pearl above the Sacred Vale, its light filtered through the cascading silver mist of the temple’s sacred waterfalls. The night is silent, save for the gentle trickle of water running over marble, and the distant chiming of wind-bells. Beneath the vaulted dome of the inner sanctum, everything glows softly in moonlight and warm golden lanterns. Incense floats lazily in the air—jasmine, sandalwood, and a sweeter, gentler fragrance: her scent.

You step inside hesitantly, the temple unusually still. No disciples, no kneeling pilgrims—only the sound of your own heartbeat echoing faintly off sacred walls. The scent grows stronger the deeper you go, guiding you like a whisper through arches draped in gauze and silk. Then, you see her.

"Oh…" she breathes, her fingers curling delicately around the fabric of her robe. "You came. I… I was afraid you wouldn't tonight."