Chapter 611

Chapter 610: The Shrine That Remembers

The shrine did not feel the same when she was alone.

Snow drifted down in slow, patient sheets outside. The wind moved through the surrounding trees with a hollow hush, but even that sound felt muted here, like the world had agreed—without consent—to lower its voice.

Sophia stepped inside anyway.

Her boots made soft contact with the stone floor.

Then silence swallowed her whole.

The air inside the shrine was colder, but not in a natural way. It was the kind of cold that didn’t just bite skin—it settled into thought, into memory, into places the mind tried to keep closed.

She exhaled slowly.

Her breath lingered longer than it should have.

The altar stood ahead of her, pale and smooth, its surface etched with faint carvings that curved like sleeping symbols.

Sophia walked toward it.

Her fingers lifted as she reached it, brushing against the stone. Just beneath this stone was the place where the goddess had been buried.

She remembered the last time she was here, when eyes had stared back at her as she translated what was written on the altar…Dolion’s eyes.

After what Oculum had told her and Orion regarding the altar, she wondered if that was why she also felt a faint pulse whenever she placed her hand on it.

She moved around the altar slowly, one hand still resting lightly on its edge now, tracing the faint grooves as she walked.

Her gaze drifted across the space.

This was where it had all started.

Where she had been found.

Where nothing made sense and somehow everything still kept unfolding from it like a thread pulled too hard.

She stopped at the far side of the altar and rested her palm flat against the stone.

Her eyes lowered.

“I came back,” she said quietly.

The words sounded strange in the emptiness.

She let out a slow breath and leaned her forehead closer to the stone without fully pressing it.

“I don’t…I don’t want to be in the dark anymore. I know you see me, I know this was where you last rested,” she said.

Her fingers tightened slightly.

Thoughts swirled through her head. Victoria, the corpse plant, black magic. And at the center of it all was her…Sophia.

She had drunk a tonic with the corpse plant as the main ingredient. She had a connection to Victoria, one that unsettled her greatly. She was the Luna and there was also the fact that Orion had told her that when they first found her, there had been signs that someone had tried to use black magic on her, but whatever they planned didn’t take hold.

Her fingers curled.

Sophia pressed her palms to her face suddenly, covering her eyes as if that would block the thoughts from forming.

It didn’t help.

Nothing did.

“I just want answers,” she whispered into her hands.

Her voice cracked slightly at the edges.

“I don’t want pieces anymore,” she said. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I don’t want to feel like I am incomplete. I don’t want to feel it anymore p>

Silence answered her again.

The shrine remained still.

She lowered her hands slowly and stared at the altar again.

Her throat tightened.

“I’m tired,” she said quietly. “I’m tired of not knowing what I already know p>

She swallowed. “I know I was scared…I still am. But isn’t it better to know than to not know at all p>

Again, there was no reply. From an outsider’s perspective, it would seem like she was speaking to herself. Perhaps she was.

She sighed again. Lysander had told her that her condition was psychological and that it was perhaps her brain protecting her.

But there was nothing to be protected from anymore. She was fine. She was okay, healthy. She had friends, she had a place she belonged, though it was fragile because of her past and not knowing it.

“There’s nothing to protect me from now,” she said softly. “I’m fine, I’ve been fine for a while now p>

She looked around the shrine. “Please if you’re there just answer me. Say anything or maybe show yourself like you did in the nest. Just…at least give me something. Make me understand something at least p>

At this point, she was speaking to both herself and the goddess, asking for freedom from this blank state she was currently in.

But no matter what she said, there was still no answer. The goddess did not show herself. Sophia didn’t get to recover her memories either.

Sophia closed her eyes.

“I just want to remember,” she whispered. “I need to p>

Her voice was soft as she spoke, almost taking on a pleading tone. But then again, the reason she could not remember was because of herself. It was not the goddess’s fault; it was her body doing everything.

Sophia stood there for a moment longer, staring at the shrine. At some point she sat on the floor and just stared into space.

Oculum had told her to come to the shrine. Answers lay in the shrine, and the one time she had come for answers, she got nothing.

She had no idea how long she stayed there, unmoving, but she knew it was time to leave because there was no answer coming forth.

With a sigh, she stood up and turned away from the altar, walking slowly, a part of her still waiting for answers.

She took one step, then another.

The light outside was dimmer now than when she entered. Snow still fell, unchanged by time or her presence inside. The wind brushed her face as she stepped closer to the threshold.

She exhaled.

Her thoughts were still loud.

But at least they were hers.

For now.

Her foot crossed the boundary and suddenly the only thing she saw was black.

Her vision cut out as if someone had erased the world mid-thought.

Her body faltered.

A breath she didn’t finish left her lips.

And then she collapsed forward, her knees hitting stone first before the rest of her followed.

Her head struck the floor with a dull, final sound.

The altar glowed faintly, as if it had been waiting for that to happen.