“Thirty days,” the High Oracle had said, her voice like dry leaves. “Survive the trials of the Moonless Path, and you will earn the title of True Priestess. Fail, and your soul becomes part of the silence.”
I remember the others who tried. Their names are now only echoes in empty halls. i won't lose! ~30 days a priestess
They sent a phantom wearing my mother’s face. It asked why I was still fighting. “You were always too stubborn,” it crooned. “Too weak to know when to kneel.” “Thirty days,” the High Oracle had said, her
I pressed my palm to the cold altar stone, feeling the old magic flicker—weak, starving, but still alive. “I won’t lose,” I whispered. “Not in thirty days. Not ever.” Their names are now only echoes in empty halls
The temple gates groaned shut behind me. No army. No blessings. Just a threadbare robe and a cracked wooden staff.
But a priestess doesn’t need to be the strongest. She needs to be the one who gets up last.