The Temple of Acula stood apart from the rest of Draco.
It did not belong to the living.
Not because it was hidden.
But because it did not belong to the world around it.
Even from a distance, it felt… different.
It stood within Draco, yes—anchored in its soil, carved from its stone—but no one who approached it ever mistook it for something mortal.
It did not simply exist.
It endured.
Ancient beyond memory, untouched by time, and governed by laws no king had ever dared to challenge.
The stone that formed its towering structure was pale—not the white of marble, but something older, something that seemed to hold light within itself.
Tall pillars rose like silent sentinels, each carved with ancient runes that glowed faintly beneath the night sky.
The air around the temple was unnaturally still, untouched by the winds that swept through the rest of the kingdom.
