TRAVEL BETWEEN REALMS

After the city guards had left and things had quieted down, David prepared himself and stepped out of his room. He made his way downstairs to the reception desk of the inn.

Approaching the receptionist, he asked politely, "Miss, could you tell me the directions to the Temple of Goddess Iris?"

The woman behind the counter looked up from her ledger with a raised brow. "You must be mistaken, sir. Lady Iris doesn't have a temple of her own. At least not in the traditional sense."

David blinked in surprise. "She doesn't?"

She shook her head, then smiled. "Not exactly. Lady Iris isn't the kind of goddess who's worshipped in grand marble halls. However, there are locations scattered across the universes that honor her—places where travelers go to leave offerings or seek messages. And yes, one such location exists in this city."

David's curiosity piqued. "Where exactly is it?"

"Almost on the outskirts," she replied, pointing toward a small map pinned behind the desk. "It would take about an hour or two on foot. Or, if you prefer, you could hire a carriage and be there in less than thirty minutes."

"Where can I find a carriage?" he asked.

"Just walk two blocks straight from here," she said. "You'll find the carriage depot where they line up for passengers heading all over the city."

David gave her a courteous nod. "Thank you for your help."

"No need to thank me, sir," she replied with a smile. "I'm just doing my job."

With that, the receptionist turned her attention to another guest who had just approached the desk.

Seeing his questions answered, David turned and stepped outside. The city air greeted him with its usual warmth and distant hum of activity. Following the directions he had been given, he began walking toward the carriage depot, determined to find the path that would take him to the place dedicated to the rainbow messenger goddess—Lady Iris.

As David entered the wide, bustling lane where the carriages were lined up along the cobbled street, he was immediately hit by a wave of noise and motion.

Drivers were calling out loudly, advertising their destinations, some shouting over each other in hopes of grabbing the attention of passersby. A few of them had taken to practically getting in people's faces, waving their arms and barking questions like salesmen desperate to close a deal.

No sooner had David stepped into view than one of the men approached him eagerly.

"Sir! Where do you need to go?" the driver asked, half-shouting above the street noise.

"I need to get to Lady Iris's place," David replied calmly. "In this city."

As soon as he said it, the man's expression shifted into one of recognition. He turned to someone down the line and called out, "Theo! This one's yours!"

A tall man near a modest, dark-wood carriage raised a hand in acknowledgment. The first driver gestured toward him and nodded to David. "That one. Go on."

David made his way over.

Theo's carriage looked like every other one in the street—functional and timeworn. It was built for three riders: one seat for the driver out front, and two passenger seats in the back under a thin canopy. The front was open to the air, and the pair of chestnut horses were already harnessed and ready.

"Would you like to be dropped off directly in front of the lady's establishment, or would a few houses down be acceptable?" Theo asked politely as David approached.

"Directly in front," David answered simply.

"That'll be ten copper drachma, sir," Theo replied without pause.

David didn't haggle. He reached into his pouch and handed over the coins. "Fine."

With that, Theo gave a small nod and cracked the reins. The horses trotted forward, the carriage creaking as they maneuvered out of the crowded line of parked carts and onto the main road.

As they rode, David leaned back against the cushioned seat and rested his arm on the side rail. The cool morning breeze brushed past his face, and he let his eyes wander across the slowly waking city. Shops were just beginning to open, market stalls being set up as vendors prepared for the morning rush. The streets were growing louder and livelier with each passing minute.

It took them about thirty-five minutes to reach their destination, the delay mostly due to the growing traffic. The time was now 6:35 a.m.—the golden hour for merchants to set up their stalls and prepare for the daily influx of shoppers.

David was thankful he had left early. Any later and he would've easily lost another ten minutes in the rising congestion.

Finally, the carriage rolled to a smooth stop in front of a humble yet radiant building tucked near the edge of the city—the place dedicated to the rainbow messenger goddess, Lady Iris.

As David stepped down from the carriage, his eyes landed on the structure before him—and he paused.

The establishment resembled a temple, yet it lacked the grandeur he had seen at Hermes' shrine the day before. There were no gilded columns, no marble statues carved in heroic poses, no elaborate murals boasting of divine exploits. It was humble, quiet—even unassuming. But there was something comforting about its presence, like the soft afterglow of a storm or the first colors of a dawn sky.

David approached the entrance with measured steps. As he crossed the threshold, a subtle shift in the air greeted him—a change in pressure, like walking into a moment suspended in time.

Inside, the interior was softly lit, the walls painted in pale hues that shifted gently depending on the angle of the light. At the far end of the room stood a statue of the goddess Iris herself, elegant and serene. She held a scroll and a writing quill in her hands, her gaze carved to look forever focused yet endlessly gentle.

Behind the statue, set into the wall, was a stunning mosaic of stained glass—fragments of every color imaginable forming a radiant rainbow that arched behind the goddess like a divine halo. When the morning sunlight streamed through the glass, it painted the interior with dancing hues, making it feel as though the air itself shimmered with unspoken messages.

This was not a temple of pride or worship through fear. It was a place of subtlety, of secrets and silent knowledge—a sanctuary where whispers mattered more than shouts.

David took a quiet breath and stepped further in.