Dragged Into Another World By The Obsessive Villain

After Melanova's arrival, Caspian announced that they should all finish their breakfast because it was nearly time to start heading to Astrielle's temple. There was an anxiousness about him, and Elara thought she understood that anxiety because she felt it, too. If this didn't work and the goddess didn't aid them, they would have to take the normal route to the capital, and for three more days, they'd have to keep their head on a swivel, probably being attacked left and right. Caspian was right. While the knights could protect her during their journey, what would happen to the maids and the coachmen who had joined them? Someone would surely end up losing their lives, and Elara felt as if she'd never be the same if one of them died because of her.

The journey to the temple was serene. Sunlight weaved through the trees as morning mist curled away. The road was rough in places, but the carriage glided over it with the surprising smoothness only a magical carriage was capable of, allowing her to take in the shifting landscape. A cool breeze rustled the canopy overhead, filling the air with the scent of pine and wildflowers. 

The temple of Astrielle rose like a mirage from the forest's edge, its white marble walls aglow with an otherworldly luminescence. Tall spires spiraled upwards, tapering into slender points crowned with silver. The air grew cool, charged with a palpable sense of magic, the kind that made the fine hairs on Elara's arms lift in recognition despite the fact she'd never been in the presence of magic before. The entire structure seemed to pulse gently, as though it were a living thing, a conduit for the goddess's divine presence.

The pathway to the entrance was lined with statues carved from moonstone, their features ethereal and delicate, eyes closed in eternal meditation. Each figure held a different instrument—a spindle, a loom, a pair of shears—symbols of fate's weaving, cutting, and tying. Elara felt the weight of their gazes despite their closed eyes. Foolish though it may have been, she felt as if they could see her.

The temple's façade was adorned with intricate reliefs depicting scenes of creation and destruction, of lives born and lives ending, woven together in an endless loop. Above the great arching doorway, a large mosaic shone in iridescent blues and silvers: Astrielle herself, depicted as a serene woman with cascading hair like the Milky Way, holding a shimmering, unending tapestry. It spilled from her hands, curling around the doorframe and into the very foundation of the temple, as though the stones themselves were part of her divine weaving.

Crisseda helped Elara down from the carriage right as Caspian was walking up to her, Kyran at his heels.

"You don't have to come in if you don't want to. The day is cold and it will be just as cold in the main area of the temple, since they only keep heating runes in the rooms. If you'd like to stay in the carriage where it's warm..."

She shook her head. "I'd like to see the inside." And that was partly true. Mostly, she just had this niggling in her stomach that told her she had to come along.

Inside, the light grew softer, filtered through stained-glass windows depicting constellations and celestial patterns. The air carried a scent of incense—sage, juniper, and something else Elara couldn't quite place—a fragrance that was cool and sharp like a winter breeze. A priest dressed in rich purple robes came bounding over to them. He was heavyset, bald, and sweating something awful. 

"I greet the Grand Duke," he said, bowing low. "What wonderful turn of events has brought you to us here today, your Grace."

"I need to speak with Astrielle."

The priest looked at him as if he'd grown a second head and cleared his throat. "Ah, you mean to pray. If you'd like, we can set up a room for you." He gestured over to one of the younger priests who was loitering along the walls with the others.

Caspian shook his head. "No. Here is fine." 

Caspian strode to the front of the temple, his confident steps echoing against the polished marble floor. There was a loom at the heart of the temple, easily twice the height of a man, with golden threads glimmering as if spun from pure starlight. The tapestry draped upon it seemed to ripple with a life of its own, the woven figures moving subtly when one wasn't looking directly at them. Elara felt as though she could almost hear it, a soft humming like the universe's song, ancient and unknowable. When Caspian came closer, the loom at the heart of the chamber shimmered, the threads vibrating in response as if the very fabric of fate itself acknowledged his presence.

Elara held her breath as she watched him, the light filtering through the stained glass casting celestial patterns across his face.

He bowed his head, a gesture of respect she'd never seen him make before. The silence stretched on, charged. The head priest was opening and closing his mouth, and it was clear he disagreed with Caspian approaching the loom and its tapestry. She supposed she understood that. That loom and tapestry were holy items only the goddess herself touched. In the forums, it was said that not even the head priest approached it carefully for fear of incurring her wrath. The priests and priestesses lining the wall all whispered among each other as they watched.

"Goddess Astrielle," Caspian's voice was low, clear, and carried an unusual gentleness. "I ask for your aid, for a safe passage to our destination. I must protect those who look to me and this is a task I can only achieve with your divine gift. I beseech you to grant us the gift of time, which you alone can weave and unweave at your will."

The loom fell silent as he spoke, the threads no longer moving. It was as though the entire temple had paused, listening. And then Elara felt the very air shift, a subtle drop in temperature and a heaviness that set her heart racing against her ribs. Next to her, Kyran's sturdy figure waved just a bit. Light bent strangely, coalescing into a soft, silver glow that gathered before Caspian, right in front of the loom.

From the light emerged a figure—delicate, ethereal, barely more than a silhouette of starlight. The image of Astrielle shimmered, her face obscured by a veil of mist, but her hands were clearly visible, thin and graceful, the fingers tipped with threads of pure silver that trailed into the loom behind her.

The priests of the temple all fell to their knees, cries of praise for the goddess spilling from their lips. Elara also felt the overwhelming need to bend the knee, her legs felt like jelly that couldn't hold her up. 

"Little Caspian," she spoke, her voice like the first breaths of dawn. "I am pleased to find you well."

Caspian stood still, unshaken. He met the veiled gaze of the goddess, silver eyes unblinking. "It's thanks to your protection I have remained such. Thank you for granting me audience. I would not have disturbed you had it not been necessary."

Astrielle's form pulsed gently, her hands weaving invisible patterns in the air. "Your thread is tangled, knotted by forces beyond your own choices," she said, her tone neither scolding nor pitying. "I will grant your request, little Caspian. For your sake this time instead of for your mother's, for witnessing how beautifully you handled the sword, it was as if I had seen Clethora again."

A soft, rippling wave spread out from her, like the surface of a disturbed pond. In her palm, a small orb of light formed, floating toward Caspian, who held his hand out to catch whatever the hardened orb had taken the form of. He gave a small nod. "Thank you, goddess," he said simply.

Without any more words, the goddess disappeared, her shimmering form seeming to fade into the glints of sunlight before its light was swallowed completely.

The head priest stepped forward, eyes wide with disbelief. "Goddess Astrielle," he stammered, his eyes flickering to the loom to Caspian and back again, "to have her respond so quickly, to grant aid without ritual—"

"Her reasons are her own," Caspian interrupted, turning on his heel with a flick of his cloak. "I do not question the will of a goddess."

The priest's mouth opened and closed, searching for words, but Caspian was already making his way back to Elara. She fell into step beside him, casting one last glance at the goddess's loom and the ever-moving tapestry. As she did, she felt it—a tug, almost like a hand brushing against her own. Elara blinked. The sensation was gentle but insistent, as though someone was tugging her hand back to the direction of the front of the temple. 

"Elara?" Caspian's voice snapped her out of the trance. She had stopped in the middle of the temple and had been staring over at the spot where Astrielle had been moments before. Both Caspian and Kyran were looking at her. "We need to leave."

"Right," she murmured, though she couldn't shake the feeling. That odd feeling tugged at her, harder and more insistent, as they made their way back to the others who were waiting just outside the temple.

Crisseda stepped forward, offering a steadying hand as Elara climbed back onto the magic carriage. Her fingers trembled slightly, the lingering sensation of Astrielle's presence still fresh in her mind. She saw Crisseda look at her, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

Caspian stood before the gathered group, his expression calm. "The goddess Astrielle has decided to lend us her grace," he announced, his voice carrying over the wind. "We have been given a rare gift—her aid to travel a great distance in a single moment."

She heard some of the maids, coachmen, and knights murmuring among themselves at that. She didn't know much about the whole gods thing in this world beyond the short passages she'd read of their descriptions on the author's forum, but she imagined gaining their blessings wasn't an everyday occurrence. Especially if the reactions of the priests and priestesses in the temple were any indication.

Elara watched as he held up his hand. The shimmering light granted by the goddess had solidified into a large, opalescent pearl, its surface swirling with silvery threads of light, like the strands of fate themselves woven into its core. The pearl seemed almost alive, pulsing gently, casting a soft glow that illuminated Caspian's face.

"Melanova, since I can't use magic, you'll have to do the honors of activating it."

The mage stepped forward. The morning sun shone on her inky hair, haloing it in blue. Melanova's slender fingers closed around the pearl, and her eyes were wide as she stared down at it, holding it as the precious thing it was.

Elara leaned forward, unable to tear her gaze away. The pearl seemed to glow brighter in Melanova's grasp, its light spilling out in soft, concentric ripples that washed over the group like moonlight on water. She could feel the magic humming through the air, a palpable force that tugged at the very fabric of the world around them.

"Everyone stay perfectly still," Melanova instructed. "And do not stray outside of its radius. The goddess's gift will create a rift, a fold in space itself. Stay within the circle of light, or risk being left behind."

Elara braced herself as the air around them grew thin, the shimmering light from the pearl intensifying until it became almost blinding. She felt a strange, weightless sensation as though the ground beneath them had disappeared entirely. The world seemed to pause, the very fabric of the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then, with a sound like a million glasses shattering, the light exploded outward. Elara felt a rush of wind, cool and sharp, filling her lungs with the scent of rain and distant sea. The scenery around them blurred and shifted, colors melting together like the strokes of a watercolor painting left in the rain.

She blinked, and when her vision cleared, they were no longer standing before Astrielle's temple. Instead, they found themselves on a high ridge overlooking a wide, sprawling plain. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting golden rays over the distant spires of the capital city.