Waiting in Sacred Halls

Mariza sat on the cool marble steps of the temple, watching blue flames dance around her fingertips. The fire crackled softly, casting turquoise shadows on the ancient stone walls covered in goddess symbols that matched her jacket.

"They're late," she muttered, letting the flames grow brighter. Her three best friends never kept her waiting this long.

The temple doors creaked open. El stepped through first, her black hair catching the afternoon light streaming through the tall windows. Something looked different about her silhouette against the doorway, but Mariza couldn't place what.

Feather followed behind, walking stiffly with her arms pressed tight against her back. Her golden-brown hair swayed as she moved, but she kept glancing over her shoulder nervously.

Little Clover bounced in last, her usual cheerful smile in place. She looked the same as always, small and child-like, but there was something careful about the way she moved her hands.

"Hey!" Mariza called, jumping up and extinguishing her flames. "Ready for our forest adventure?"

The three goddesses exchanged quick glances before nodding.

Hidden Changes

As they walked toward the forest, Mariza noticed how quiet her friends had become. Usually El would be chatting about her latest harvest adventures, but today she kept tugging at a knitted hat that covered her entire head.

"Why are you wearing that?" Mariza asked, pointing at the purple wool cap. "It's way too warm for a hat today."

El's face turned red. "I just... liked how it looked this morning."

That was strange. El never cared much about fashion.

Feather walked several steps behind them, her arms still pressed against her back in that weird way. When a gentle breeze rustled through the trees, she stumbled forward awkwardly instead of spreading her wings to balance like she normally did.

"Are you okay?" Mariza called back to her.

"Fine! Just thinking about music," Feather replied quickly, but her voice sounded strained.

They reached a small clearing where wildflowers usually bloomed in thick patches. Clover knelt down next to a bare spot of earth, placing her hands on the ground. She closed her eyes and concentrated hard, her face scrunched up with effort.

Nothing happened. Not even a single blade of grass sprouted from the soil.