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The interior of the temple was exactly as oppressive as Wren had anticipated, a sterile and suffocating environment designed to cleanse and purify. Every surface, from the polished stone floors to the vaulted ceilings, radiated a low-level divine energy that felt like a constant, abrasive pressure against her demonic nature. Protective runes, ancient and powerful, were carved into the walls, whispering silent prayers in languages that predated current human civilization. A heavy, cloying incense hung in the air, its scent designed to invoke divine presence and ward off corruption. Walking through these halls was like moving through thick, viscous water that actively resisted her very existence. Wren forced herself to breathe slowly, to focus past the growing discomfort. Pain was just information. Discomfort was merely inconvenient. She had endured far worse during the Abyssal Wars.

She navigated by the flawless mental map she had created, following the path she had memorized. The service corridors, narrow and plain compared to the grand public halls, formed a hidden network that connected to all the major areas of the temple, designed to let servants move about their duties without disturbing holy rituals. It was a convenient oversight for a demon queen trying to avoid detection.

The first serious obstacle appeared after ten minutes of cautious progress. She reached a junction where the service corridor she was in intersected with one of the main halls, requiring her to cross a wide, exposed space under the bright, unwavering light of eternal flames that burned in ornate braziers. Worse, a shimmering field of light, an alarm, stretched across the intersection. It was different from the exterior defensive fields. This one was designed to trigger a temple-wide alarm if anything demonic passed through it.

Wren studied the elegant trap, admitting grudgingly that the technique was impressive. It did not try to harm or repel. It simply watched, a silent, magical sentinel, and if it detected the slightest trace of corruption, it would alert the entire temple. Bypassing it required a different approach than simple negation.

She pulled out a small vial of blessed water, stolen from a border chapel weeks ago and carefully preserved in a magically inert container. The irony of using their own consecrated items to commit this grand sacrilege appealed to her dark sense of humor. She anointed herself carefully, applying a few drops to her forehead, hands, and the burned flesh of her shoulder. The water burned her skin like acid, a sharp, cleansing fire that made her hiss in pain. The pain was significant, but it would be temporary. The holy water would mask her demonic aura for perhaps thirty seconds, just long enough to cross the intersection if she moved quickly. She took three deep, steadying breaths, then sprinted.

The energy of the alarm field washed over her as she passed through it. She could feel it probe her essence, searching for corruption, but it found only the temporary, deceptive camouflage of the blessed water. Then she was through, diving back into the relative safety of the service corridor on the far side and pressing herself against the cold stone wall while the water's blessing faded and her natural, corrupting aura reasserted itself. No alarms sounded. The silent sentinel had not detected her.

Wren allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction before continuing her advance. The deeper she penetrated into the temple, the stronger the ambient sanctity became. It was like walking into increasingly intense sunlight, each step requiring more effort, more concentration to push through the palpable resistance.

She passed small openings in the walls that looked out into various chambers. A vast library filled with ancient, leather-bound texts. A silent training hall where practice weapons hung in neat, orderly rows. A small meditation chamber where a single, lone knight knelt in prayer, his back to the doorway. She slipped past him like a shadow, close enough to hear his whispered devotions.

"...grant us the strength to stand against the darkness. Make us the instruments of your will..."

The absolute, unwavering faith in his voice was something Wren found simultaneously impressive and deeply disturbing. Such certainty must be a comforting thing to possess. And a profoundly limiting one. This knight would never question, never doubt, never wonder if perhaps the world contained more complexity than his simple, binary worldview allowed. She moved on, leaving him to his futile prayers.

The service corridor ended at a heavy, locked oak door. According to her intelligence, this door opened onto a secondary hallway that connected to the Inner Sanctum's outer chambers. She picked the lock, a simple mechanical system that yielded easily to her specialized tools, and eased the door open. The hallway beyond was wider and more elaborately decorated. Tapestries depicting glorious holy victories against demonic hordes hung between high, arched windows that looked out onto moonlit gardens.

Guardian runes were embedded in the floor at regular intervals, their faint glow nearly invisible unless you knew what to look for. The sigils coiled like sleeping serpents of light, ready to strike any demon who stepped on them. Halfway down the hall, footsteps echoed from around the corner ahead. A patrol. She was exposed in the middle of the hallway with nowhere to hide.

Up was the only option.

She jumped, her fingers catching the lip of the vaulted ceiling's decorative molding. She found a purchase on stone carved to resemble flowing fabric and pulled herself up, pressing her body against the vaulted curve just as three knights rounded the corner below. They walked directly beneath her.

"...don't understand why the Grand Master has us checking these halls every hour," one knight complained. "Nothing ever happens in the inner temple."

"Orders are orders. A perimeter field flickered earlier tonight."

Wren’s breath caught in her throat. They knew about her entry.

"But it held, didn't it?"

"It did. Still, something pushed through. Whatever it was might still be inside."

The knights continued past. Wren waited until their footsteps faded, then dropped silently to the floor. The temple was now actively searching for her. She abandoned caution for speed. At the end of the hall, a door marked with holy seals stood between her and her goal. Breaking them would take time she did not have. Then she noticed the seals protected against magic, but the door had a simple, physical lock. She picked it with quick, efficient movements. No alarm sounded. She slipped through, finally allowing herself to exhale. The Inner Sanctum lay just ahead.