With weapons drawn and nerves twitching, we approached the temple cautiously.
Up close, the place looked even older than I thought.
The stone wasn't brown anymore, but had faded to nearly gray.
Carvings were made into the walls — weathered and half-eaten by moss, yet still clear enough to show twisted shapes of men bowing before things that weren't men at all.
Basically, the murals showed people worshipping gods… or things close enough to be called gods.
We walked until we reached the entrance tall enough for giants. Its archway was cracked down the middle. Roots dangled across it like a curtain, dripping beads of moisture.
When Kang pushed them aside, a gust of stale air rolled out — warm and damp and carrying a faint metallic tang, like the smell of rusting coins.
The moment we stepped inside the temple, the jungle's noise — all that buzzing, chirping, and croaking — muffled out.
Only the loud and hollow sound of our footsteps echoed back at us.
