"Then what exactly?" Luke asked through clenched teeth, his head pounding, the sudden weight of his headache nearly crippling.

  Liam didn’t answer. He just gave Luke a faintly amused glance, then turned and started up the temple stairs.

  Luke hated that. That look. That quiet, condescending glance adults always gave when they thought they knew better—when they thought the younger, less experienced person in front of them couldn’t possibly understand. It infuriated him. He was expected to grasp history, science, math—entire worlds of knowledge laid out in books—but somehow, the unique challenge of simply existing as an adult was beyond written explanation. That was the line, apparently. That was where things got too complex.

  "We're not just dumb kids, you know?” Luke bit out, his frustration boiling over. "Being an adult and having two names doesn’t mean you’re capable of understanding concepts beyond my capabilities."

  The anger pulsing through his veins dulled the pain in his skull, if only slightly.

  Dawn, however, looked barely capable of standing, let alone talking. Luke cast a quick glance her way—she’d really overdone it this time. She was always pushing herself too hard, as if sheer force of will, could conquer exhaustion. Chris stepped up beside her, offering his arm. She refused with a sharp shake of her head.

  Liam chuckled, and the sound sent a ripple of irritation through Luke’s already raw nerves.

  "No, you're right, I guess," Liam admitted, still climbing. “But maybe being over 2,000 years old makes it a little more plausible.”

  Luke’s irritation vanished.

  His brain stuttered, catching on the words like a skipping record. His pain, his frustration, everything momentarily replaced by sheer disbelief. He opened his mouth, grasping for something—anything—to fire back at him, but his thoughts had scattered like loose pages in the wind.

  "You're—wait. You're not a god," he said slowly, trying to piece together the implications, "but you're over 2,000 years old? And Norse, I’m assuming?"

  Liam was already a good fifteen steps ahead now, his long strides unbothered by their exhaustion.

  Luke's mind spun. 2,000 years. His anger was gone now, replaced with something deeper. Something colder.

  "So… that means you knew Odin, Thor, Loki?" He hesitated, then threw in, "What about Freya? Seen her too, I suppose?"

  Liam didn’t slow, didn’t stop. Didn’t even turn around.

  Instead, as if the question barely deserved effort, he called back over his shoulder:

  "Make sure you don’t fall behind."

  Dawn, Luke, and Chris pushed themselves up the stairs as fast as their exhausted bodies would carry them. Liam waited, letting them catch up before continuing his ascent at the same steady pace, unaffected by the strain they felt creeping into their limbs.

  Luke felt heavier with each step, as if gravity itself was pressing harder on him the higher they climbed. His breath came in short bursts, but he forced himself to keep going. Dawn was beside him, Liam ahead, and Chris trailed behind, keeping an eye on both of them.

  “So,” Luke managed, forcing the word out between heaving breaths, “you didn’t answer me… Did you know them?”

  Liam didn’t even sound winded as he sighed, almost exasperated. “And you obviously didn’t listen. I’m pretty sure I said you’d get answers inside the temple, not on the side of the temple.” He paused for a moment, then added, “But nonetheless… yes.”

  Luke didn’t get a chance to feel victorious before Liam cut him off.

  “Now, no more questions. Save what energy you’ve got left for climbing. We’re barely halfway there, and you’re already breathing hard.”

  Luke clenched his jaw. He hated when people were right, especially when he wanted to argue. But even as his frustration simmered, he went to speak again—only to be interrupted by a sharp gasp from behind him.

  Chris.

  Turning his head, Luke caught the sight just in time—Dawn’s legs had completely given out. She had tried to take a step, but her body refused. In an attempt to correct herself, she flailed, overcompensating as her balance tipped dangerously backward. Chris, reacting in an instant, caught her before she could tumble down the stairs.

  He didn’t even stumble.

  Luke wanted to be relieved, but a new sensation crawled into his mind—an odd sense of weightlessness. His thoughts suddenly drifted, and for a split second, amusement flickered through him.

  Maybe those runes on the box were warnings about side effects…

  Then the world wobbled.

  Luke’s head went light, vision swimming, stomach twisting. His knees buckled before he even processed what was happening. He was falling. Or maybe floating.

  Then nothing.

  Except it wasn’t nothing.

  Luke found himself drifting at the edge of awareness, floating between moments, his thoughts distant but stubbornly clinging to reality.

  The world faded in and out in jagged, uneven bursts. One second, everything was spinning. The next, the world felt too still. His head lolled forward, or maybe backward—he wasn’t sure. He felt movement, but it didn’t register properly, as if his body and mind were out of sync.

  His chest tightened. He tried to breathe, but it came shallow and slow, like his lungs had forgotten how. A flicker of panic wormed its way through the exhaustion, but even that felt dull, like an afterthought. He wasn’t in control anymore.

  A voice. Familiar.

  Chris?

  Luke barely processed the words—something about trusting Liam. A decision. A plea, almost.

  Then movement.

  A shift in weight.

  Hands adjusting him like he weighed nothing at all.

  Something about that should’ve bothered him more. Should’ve sparked some fight, some last attempt at control. But his body refused to respond. His mind wavered, balancing on the razor’s edge of sleep and wakefulness, slipping between them with every uneven breath.

  Chris had seen Luke get lightheaded plenty of times before—usually from getting too absorbed in whatever insane plan he was cooking up to remember to eat or sleep. But this? This wasn’t normal.

  This wasn’t just exhaustion.

  Luke’s body had gone slack. His breathing was shallow. Chris had never seen him like this, and it scared him.

  But the one thing Chris knew how to do—even if he sucked at plans, strategies, or whatever Luke usually handled—was step up when it mattered.

  And right now?

  He was the only one still standing.

  He shifted Dawn’s weight, pulling her up onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She was dead weight in his arms—breathing but barely moving.

  “Luke, calm down,” he said, voice steadier than he felt. “If this guy wanted us dead, we’d be dead already.”

  He turned to Liam—Heimdall—whatever his name was. Chris was still adjusting to the fact that the dude carrying Luke like he was weightless might actually be some ancient immortal.

  “I don’t know what your deal is,” Chris said, adjusting his grip on Dawn, “but I’m gonna trust you. It feels like the right choice.” He swallowed hard. “Please don’t make me regret this later.”

  Liam stopped. Just for a moment.

  He turned slightly, as if considering the words. Chris couldn’t read his expression—probably wouldn’t have been able to even if he weren’t half-delirious from exhaustion himself.

  Then Liam nodded.

  “Chris, was it?”

  Chris nodded back, catching up to where the tall man stood.

  Liam turned around again and resumed walking. “I won’t make you regret this,” he said, simply.

  Dawn drifted in a strange, weightless haze, her mind swimming somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

  She wasn’t fully aware of what was happening, but she felt everything.

  The unfamiliar sway of movement—each step making her body shift slightly in ways she couldn’t control. The warmth of someone’s arm pressed against her side, firm but not uncomfortable. The rhythmic sound of footsteps beneath her, distant but steady.

  She should have been fighting this.

  Her instincts screamed at her to wake up, to move, to do something—but her body refused to listen.

  Her eyelids fluttered, heavy as stone. She tried to open them, just for a second, to see where they were—

  But the exhaustion pulled her back under.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  For now, she let herself drift.

  Chris followed closely behind Liam, confident in his choice. What he had said earlier felt right—trusting Liam felt right, even if Luke and Dawn didn’t share that sentiment. He couldn’t explain why, but deep down, he just knew.

  “So, what’s my deal then?” Chris asked casually, adjusting Dawn’s weight on his shoulder.

  Liam didn’t slow his pace. With a tone of genuine curiosity, he asked, “What do you mean?”

  Chris shrugged, though the movement was hindered by the unconscious person he was carrying. “I mean, Luke and Dawn got this whole mysterious gift, backyard dimension, and apparently their dad was friends with ‘not exactly gods.’ You said they’d get answers inside, but why am I here? Like, you said you could trust me, but surely being ‘someone you think you can trust’ isn’t the only criteria for being here, or this place would probably have a lot more than just us three, right? And—” Chris hesitated, shifting his grip on Dawn as he climbed another step. “Why didn’t I pass out? Did you give me something for the altitude or something?”

  Chris rambled on, his thoughts spinning. Last night, after Dawn and Luke had passed out, he’d eaten dinner prepared by the house staff. Then again, early this morning, Liam had woken him up to wait with Dawn and Luke in case they freaked out when they woke. He had eaten breakfast, also prepared by the house staff, but this time, it had been brought to him personally by Liam. At the time, he hadn’t seen any reason to distrust the food. Right now? He was really hoping he hadn’t made a mistake.

  Liam let out a short, amused breath, the closest thing Chris had heard to an actual chuckle from him. When he finally replied, his voice was calm, steady. “You don’t need me to tell you what your ‘deal’ is, Chris. You already know.”

  Chris blinked, thrown by the response. His thoughts stumbled, hitting a wall. “Uh, pretty sure I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”

  Liam finally glanced back at him, just briefly. His expression had softened slightly, and something in his gaze carried more weight.

  “And yet,” Liam said, his voice steady, “here you are. Carrying her. Keeping up, I might add. And choosing to stay.”

  Chris opened his mouth, then closed it. He wasn’t sure what to say to that.

  Liam turned his focus forward again. “You’ll figure it out when you’re meant to,” he continued. “I barely know you. I haven’t a clue what your story was, is, or will be. I’m old, Chris—not all-knowing.”

  Chris frowned. “Great. More cryptic messages. You really don’t like straight answers, do you?”

  “No,” Liam replied simply. “Not on things I’m not well-educated in, especially.”

  Chris muttered something under his breath but didn’t press further. He glanced at Luke, still nearly unconscious in Liam’s grip, then at Dawn, who shifted slightly against his shoulder, lost somewhere in whatever exhausted haze she had drifted into.

  Something was different about Liam now. He seemed… looser with his words, more willing to talk. Maybe Liam liked being trusted, Chris thought. Maybe, just maybe, he had actually outsmarted Luke this time. If he played this right, he might get some answers before they reached the top.

  They were already about three-quarters of the way there.

  “So, what’s the deal with these two?” Chris asked bluntly. “Like, is there some big prophecy about them? Are they both gonna be heroes? Gods? Does one of them turn evil? Are they supposed to fight the devil? Aliens? Dragons?”

  Liam actually stopped for that one.

  Chris nearly stumbled as he watched the man lower Luke almost to the ground, his shoulders shaking. For a brief second, Chris thought something might be wrong. But then—Liam laughed.

  Not a chuckle. Not a short breath of amusement.

  A full, genuine, almost uncontrollable laugh.

  Chris stared.

  Liam shook his head, still laughing, wiping his face with one hand as he finally turned back to Chris. “Prophecy?” he repeated between breaths. “Who the hell ever said anything about a prophecy?”

  Chris shifted Dawn’s weight slightly, trying to get a better grip as he absorbed what Liam had just said. He blinked, his thoughts scrambling for a response.

  "Well, err... um, I guess no one did," Chris admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "But you saved us in Rome, so you were obviously watching us. I assume these two are important to your cause, right? Then you gave them those odd glowing devices they absorbed, so I figured this place must be like their secret hideout. Now, I’m not a genius, but people with ‘not exactly gods’ following them around, all cloak-and-dagger with pocket dimensions, usually have prophecies too.”

  He finished his argument with a self-satisfied nod.

  Liam let out a slow breath, shaking his head as if he was processing the absurdity of it all. “Okay,” he said finally, recovering his composure, “you read entirely too many comic books.”

  Chris scoffed. “Hey, sometimes they’re not wrong.”

  Liam shot him a look but let it slide. “Here’s what I can say—I don’t believe in prophecies, nor do I have any knowledge of these two being ‘prophesized’ for anything.” His voice remained calm, but there was something firm, something resolute in his tone. “I knew their father. He was a great friend. In his life, he asked me to watch over these two—to protect them.”

  Liam turned to Chris then, and for a split second, something dark flashed in his eyes. A sharp, bitter rage.

  “But he also said I was bitter,” Liam continued. The anger in his gaze flared—and then, just as quickly, it was gone. He shook his head, exhaling through his nose as he continued climbing the final stretch of the stairs.

  “He was right,” Liam admitted, quieter now. “Too bitter to teach them myself. He preferred someone else—someone he trusted—to teach them instead. And I agreed.” He paused for a beat, then added, “I’m done teaching humanity anyway. We—y’all, they—don’t take the lessons. They just take what they can use to gain the upper hand on one another. I got tired of being disappointed.”

  Chris didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he had anything to say to that.

  Liam continued, his voice steadier now. “I promised him two things. One—make sure they lived long enough to get their inheritance.” He glanced over at Luke and Dawn, still barely conscious. “Done.”

  Chris swallowed, uneasy with how final Liam made that sound.

  “And two,” Liam went on, “if they ever had questions about their past, or about their current situation, I’d bring them to the teacher.”

  Chris frowned. “What teacher?”

  Liam almost smirked, as if he had anticipated the question. “The one inside the temple.”

  Chris huffed. “You really like to draw things out, huh?”

  As they finally reached the top of the temple, Chris exhaled in relief. His arms ached, his legs burned, and his shirt was sticking to his back with sweat. He glanced at Liam.

  "Okay, but why couldn't you just tell them all that?"

  Liam raised a brow. "I promised to bring them here if they had questions. And they had a lot of questions. Rightfully so." He crossed his arms, studying Chris for a moment. "Now answer me this—if I had told them exactly what I just told you, would that have been enough to avoid their distrust?"

  Chris opened his mouth—then hesitated. He wanted to say yes. But the longer he thought about it, the more he realized…

  “…No,” Chris admitted reluctantly.

  Liam nodded. “No. It wouldn’t have. They’d have had five new questions, and they’d have doubted everything I said anyway. Plus…” His gaze drifted back to Luke and Dawn. “I wanted to see what they were capable of with their ?nd completely depleted.”

  Chris’s brow furrowed as he tried to piece everything together. “So… you drained them of their…” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “…?nd?” He tested the pronunciation awkwardly, uncertain.

  Liam shook his head. “No. The ‘glowing device’ drained them last night. They decided to fight me with zero ?nd.” His tone was dry as he corrected Chris, emphasizing the word properly this time. “And I let them. I wanted to see what they could do running on empty.”

  Chris glanced at Luke and Dawn again, both still barely hanging on to consciousness. “And?”

  Liam shrugged. “Better than I expected. Still disappointing, though.”

  Chris snorted. “Man, you really suck at compliments.”

  Liam didn’t argue.

  Chris adjusted his grip on Dawn, shifting her weight slightly to keep his balance. His arms burned from carrying her this long, but he wasn’t about to complain. Not when Luke had passed out first. Not when Liam was hauling him like it was nothing.

  Still, something was nagging at him.

  “…Wait.” He shot Liam a side-eye. “So why are you telling me all this?”

  Liam didn’t answer right away. Instead, he raised a single finger and traced something in the air. A faint trail of golden light lingered for half a second before sinking into the stone beneath their feet.

  A deep, mechanical hum rumbled through the temple.

  Chris stiffened as the ground beneath him suddenly lurched. His stomach flipped, and for a split second, panic shot through him. His footing wobbled, and he instinctively tightened his grip on Dawn, bracing for—what, an earthquake? A collapse? He didn’t know, but his brain was already screaming bad bad bad.

  His free hand shot out to steady himself. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—what the hell?!”

  Liam barely reacted, standing as steady as ever. “Calm down,” he said, voice annoyingly even. “It’s just an elevator.”

  Chris’s pulse was still hammering, but he forced himself to breathe. He glanced around, realizing the platform was sinking—smoothly, steadily—into the temple.

  He exhaled sharply, his heartbeat slowing just enough for him to shoot Liam a look. “A magic elevator?”

  Liam smirked faintly. “If that helps you process it, sure.”

  Chris shook his head, adjusting Dawn on his shoulder as the platform carried them downward. “You know, for ‘not exactly gods,’ you guys are kinda dumb.”

  Liam raised a brow but said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate.

  Chris gestured vaguely at the temple around them. “Stairs up a temple, just to take an elevator down inside? What, were you guys around before doors were invented or something?” He paused, reconsidering. “Wait—no, that ain’t right. Doors have gotta be older than elevators, right?”

  Liam smirked, shaking his head. “I didn’t build this,” he said simply, gesturing toward the descending stonework. “Take it up with the teacher.”

  Chris huffed. “I’ll be sure to file a complaint.”

  As the platform lowered, the room below revealed itself—vast, empty, and shrouded in darkness. The air grew noticeably cooler, thick with the scent of damp stone and minerals. The only sound was the faint trickle of water, echoing softly through the chamber.

  The only light came from the opening above, casting a narrow beam downward where the platform had once been. As they descended, the platform drifted slightly to one side, shifting the angle of the light.

  That was when Chris saw it.

  Nestled at the room’s center, a fountain shimmered in the dim glow. The water rippled under the light, casting glittering patterns that danced across the stone walls, but the effect did little to brighten the space. The shadows still loomed, heavy and unmoved by the fountain’s quiet beauty.

  Chris didn’t like this. Something about it felt… staged. Like an ancient ritual site frozen in time.

  The platform reached the ground with a soft thud.

  Liam moved immediately, striding toward the fountain without hesitation. Chris hesitated for just a second before following.

  “There’s a bench here,” Liam said, motioning toward the structure near the water. “Let’s set these two on it.”

  Chris squinted at it. “Why?” he asked instinctively.

  Liam, as always, gave the simplest answer possible. “Because.”

  Chris narrowed his eyes.

  Liam sighed, elaborating. “The temple has many functions. From what I understand, this bench is a place where one can recover their ?nd when it’s low.”

  Chris wasn’t entirely convinced, but at this point, he wasn’t about to argue. As long as it wasn’t some ancient sacrificial altar, he supposed there was no harm in letting Dawn and Luke rest there.

  The bench was sturdy, its back facing the fountain, the stone smooth and worn with age. Liam moved first, carefully lowering Luke onto the left side. Even unconscious, Luke wobbled slightly before settling into place. Chris followed suit, shifting Dawn into position on the right. She didn’t stir, her breathing slow and steady.

  Chris took a step back, rolling out his shoulder, finally free of the weight he’d been carrying. He cast another glance at the fountain, then back to the bench.

  He really hoped Liam was right about this.

  Liam placed his hand on a stone embedded in a nearby pillar, his fingers tracing the ancient carvings with practiced ease. He whispered something under his breath—words Chris didn’t recognize—and a faint glow flickered to life beneath his palm. The light traveled swiftly up the pillar, vanishing into the ceiling above like a thread being pulled into the void.

  Then, without another word, Liam turned on his heel and strode back toward the platform, gesturing for Chris to follow.

  Chris hesitated, watching him with narrowed eyes. Liam wasn’t the type to do things without a purpose, but the vagueness grated on him.

  He waited until Liam had come to a full stop, arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall before pushing off from his own spot and approaching.

  “What are you doing?” Chris asked.

  Liam didn’t look at him. “Waiting.”

  Chris frowned, stepping closer. “For what?”

  Before Liam could answer, the sunlight filtering through the ceiling was snuffed out, replaced by a massive shadow stretching across the room.

  Chris barely had time to process the change before something moved above them. His instincts flared, his body tensing. He quickened his pace, closing the last few steps between himself and Liam as his head snapped upward.

  At first, he saw nothing. Just the high, open ceiling and the blinding contrast of light against darkness.

  Then—there.

  Movement.

  A shifting, coiling presence blurred against the backdrop of stone and sky. It slithered through the air like curling smoke, its shape uncertain, its form massive. Chris couldn’t tell if it was one thing or many.

  Then, as it drifted lower, dipping into the shaft of light over Luke and Dawn, the truth revealed itself.

  Feathers shimmered like iridescent scales. A long, sinuous body wound effortlessly through the air, undulating with each slow movement. Eyes burned like golden embers, watching, waiting.

  A giant, feathered serpent.

  Chris barely swallowed the curse rising in his throat.

  Whatever that was—it was coming straight for them.