Knock. Knock.

"Come in, my son," a frail voice sounded from inside.

Aerindel opened the door and walked inside with Rye. The king's chamber wasn't lavish, but the walls were exquisitely carved and inlaid with precious gems and flowers. Delicate paper lanterns hung on the ceilings shaped as lotus and butterflies.

The king was lying weakly on the pure white bed. His long silver hair has lost its luster and his lips were almost bloodless. Even so, his beauty didn't diminish.

One wouldn't be able to tell whether the one lying sick was a frail maiden or a fragile Adonis. His vulnerable visage could undoubtedly move the hearts of both men and women.

The rumor wasn't baseless after all.

"Father, I have returned," Aerindel knelt down next to the bed.

Rye promptly followed.

"Freanor is accompanying the human's Supreme Hero and his comrade to meet the Royal Council. This," Aerindel gestured at Rye, "this is he who bears the sun, Rye Cazmere, the younger brother of Ludric Cazmere, the Supreme Hero."

Adnadan's eyes fluttered open and rested his deep emerald pupils on Rye, "Come closer, Rye Cazmere."

Rye stood up and slowly approached the bed. He knelt back down and lowered his head in respect, "It is an honour to meet you, Your Majesty. If I really am the person you need, I will do my best effort to help."

"Forgive me for my selfishness, Saint of the Sun. The only person who can save us from this predicament is you. I have no other choice left."

Rye paused for a few seconds and hesitantly spoke, "Your Majesty, I do have a sun mark on my body, but I am not a saint or anything like that. I am afraid if a saint is what you need…"

Adnadan shook his head, "Who I need is you. The fact that you have reached the strength of a saint is our luck. You must be very pious and piety to Lord Solistus."

"I still have a long way to go." Rye honestly said.

Compared to real priests he must still be very lacking.

"Your Majesty, if you do not mind me asking, how did you know about the sun mark?"

Adnadan closed his eyes and a silver mark resembling the moon appeared dimly on his forehead. He opened his eyes back and smiled meaningfully at Rye.

Rye was stunned in place.

"Lord Muriel told me about the emergence of the sun bearer," Adnadan explained, "I apologize for putting this burden on you, Saint of the Sun."

"Please, call me Rye, Your Majesty," Rye softly smiled, "the fact that I safely arrive here means this is also the will of Lord Solistus."

Adnadan closed his eyes and chuckled, "Your lord is indeed very protective of you," he waved his hand at Aerindel, "my son, I wish to speak with Rye in private. Return here later with your sister."

Aerindel stood up and slightly bowed, "As you wish, Father."

He promptly retreated out of the room.

Adnadan patted the spot next to him, "Take a sit, Rye. This talk will take quite a while."

–––

–

A couple of hours later, Aerindel saw Rye exiting his father's chamber. He couldn't tell by Rye's expression how bad the situation was, but he was contemplating something.

"Rye, how is it? What did Father say to you?" Aerindel approached Rye.

"Rin…" Rye couldn't tell Aerindel the truth, so he shook his head, "can you show me where your temple is?"

Aerindel didn't push his question and nodded.

The things talked inside must be something he wasn't allowed to know.

They descended to the ground and slowly walked towards the temple. Looking at Rye closer, Aerindel noticed that he seems significantly troubled.

"Is the situation worse than you expected?"

Rye nodded grimly, "Unfortunately."

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to tell me, Frea, or my people. Father is certainly putting you in our highest priority and so will we."

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind," Rye saw the pure white temple up ahead, "do elves regularly pray at the temple?"

"No, not really. We only do it for special events or occasions. The temple is restricted for its members and royal family only."

"Were there any special events lately?"

"No. The last one was the annual First Moon festival at the start of each year."

"Will there be any festival soon?"

"It's not a festival, but the Ny'ar tribe is going to coronate their new chief next week. This type of occasion will involve the temple for blessing. Usually, only the Council and the tribe involved would attend, but the royal family has our privilege and you are our guest. If you want to see, I can accompany you."

Rye nodded, "Then, I'll be troubling you."

"No trouble at all."

Once they were in front of the temple, Aerindel informed Rye that they must take off their shoes before entering the Lunar Temple. Rye followed the custom and stepped inside with Aerindel.

Aerindel took him to the praying hall. Unlike Solis chapels, there wasn't any statue representing their god. Instead, there was a tall silver tree with leaves glowing a blue luminous hue, placed on a higher platform, 5 flights of stairs from the ground. The leaves left at its branches were sparse. More than half of them had fallen pitifully to the ground, turning into dim grey leaves.

"This…" Aerindel was stunned.

The last time he visited the temple, the tree was still healthily vibrant. Did it become like this during their journey? Did his father know?

The two of them climbed the stairs and approached the tree. Aerindel knelt down and picked up a leaf. The leaf was dry, stiff, and rough. With a little pressure, it crumbled into dust.

"How could this be…"

Rye touched the trunk of the tree thoughtfully, "This tree…Is this the Lune Vein?"

"Yes, it has existed since the time of our ancestors, long before the Light Tree. The first elf was born from this tree created from Lord Muriel's vein. It has an eternal life span and never withers, so this kind of thing is…unprecedented."

"…"

"What do you think you are doing!?"

The door opened behind them and three elves wearing temple robes walked inside. From their garments, it was apparent that the man in the middle has the highest rank among the three. He was wearing a silver chain headpiece with small blue stones decorating each curve.

"How dare a non-elf enters our temple. Prince Aerindel, what is the meaning of this? Are you trying to sully our sacred ground? On top of that, touching our holy Lune Vein?"

Aerindel turned to face him, "Archbishop Barion, this is Rye Cazmere, the Bearer of the Sun. My father has requested his help to solve our predicament. Hence, I beseech you to be more respectful towards him."

"Such nonsense. What can a human do to solve our matter? We are a superior race to them and they worship a different god from us. Prince Aerindel, to rely on a non-believer, a non-elf, and a worshipper of a completely opposite god from us, you and your father will receive retribution," Barion said in scorn.

Aerindel frowned, "Just because you are an archbishop does not mean you can curse my father as such. My father is your senior and our king. If it is not for his royal blood, he would be the rightful archbishop of this temple."

"To bring such a dirty creature into our temple, what you are doing is equal to blaspheming our Lord Muriel. I do not care about your position or your father's. The current archbishop is me and I have my duty towards Lord Muriel. Leave this instant!"

"Rin, it's alright," Rye stopped Aerindel from saying anything back, "I've seen what I need to know."

Aerindel calmed himself down, "Are you sure?"

Rye nodded, "Let's go."

Just as he took a step forward, the white marble floor he stepped on instantly turned into gold. It rapidly spread outward as if a bucket of golden paint spilled at that particular spot.

Rye, "!"

Aerindel, "!!"

Seeing the two of them freeze, Barion grew impatient. He moved to drag them out, "Wasting my time here is useless. I am not afraid to–"

The two elven priests gasped and hurriedly took several steps backward. The floor Barion just stepped on immediately became charred. The black patch grew until the floor half a meter radius from the archbishop's foot turned into charcoal.

Barion, "!!?"

"What–ugh!?"

He was about to voice his bafflement when a sharp foul smell assaulted his nose. He swiftly covered his nose with his sleeve.

"What is this foul smell!?" Barion's face distorted in disgust, "this must be from that human!"

The priests behind him went further away from him while also covering their noses.

Soon, Barion found the source of the smell and couldn't believe it.

It was from his own mouth.