When Eleanor opened her eyes, a ray of sunlight struck directly into them. For a moment she saw nothing but blinding white. As soon as she shifted, the beam slipped away and the world came into focus. With it came clarity of mind… memory returning in a rush.
Sunlight poured through the high window, filling the temple with a warm, diffuse glow. A broad column of gold-flecked air shimmered with drifting motes of dust, dancing like slow, celebratory spirits. It fell first upon the honeyed oak floorboards, worn smooth along a path from the door to the plinth, polished by generations of devoted feet. The grain ran deep and intricate, whorls and darker rivers of wood holding the silent stories of the tree's own long life.
