The gate doors to the temple groaned open with a quiet patience, revealing a vast courtyard with a single large tree as its centerpiece. Pagodas, pavilions, smaller courtyards and allotments of trees dotted the outskirts of the main courtyard. Each building was grand, and yet muted. A careful balance between dullness and vibrancy.
Ierei's mouth hung open, her eyes wide. "Woah. Uncle, this place is huge."
Orvyn gave a short, hearty chuckle, slinging his jacket over one shoulder. "Big, yeah. But the size isn't what matters. It's the atmosphere. Y'know, what makes a place feel like home."
Stepping inside after Orvyn, Ierei's boots barely made a sound against the cracked stone path. The place smelled strangely familiar, with sweetness hanging low in the air.
Baked sweet potatoes, maybe. It was like comfort wrapped in a mystery, and yet...there was something off, something feral. A hint of musk threaded the air, like damp fur left to dry. It wasn't strong, but Ierei couldn't help but be aware of the scent.
Orvyn walked ahead, his jacket slowly swaying on his shoulder, his boots tapping in lazy rhythm. But here, the sound didn't echo...it was swallowed. The bright mismatched colors of his clothing contrasted with the temple, as if he was challenging the temple, a smear of rebellion on a canvas of reverence.
"You don't exactly blend in here," Ierei remarked, eyeing the neon blaze of his jacket.
Orvyn grins so wide that even with his back turned, she could see his smile. "That's the idea. With places like this, if you don't stand out...you disappear."
Disappear?
The word lingered. Ierei felt a chill crawl up her spine, the temple's gravity pressing in around her like a held breath. She looked around again, slower this time. The grandeur hadn't exactly changed...but something had. The temple wasn't just large anymore, it felt like it was in layers. Comfort, decay, memory. The musky air suddenly flowed into the back of her mind, and she shivered, her eyes darting around the walls.
The temple walls, which were once painted a bright vermillion, were now blushed faint with the dignity of time. Dancing faintly across the woodwork were dragons, their eyes seeming to follow Ierei as she walked throughout the courtyard. Around the main courtyard was a constellation of pavilions, some open-faced and some with low-stone fences sectioning the space into quiet sanctuaries. The cracked paths, once symmetrical, now meandered, as though the ground had adapted to the footsteps of generations.
Each building bore its own mood. One pavilion, which was square and stout, had the color of crushed plum with faded floral murals tracing its beams. A neighboring building bore a refined, sleek ivory pillar, bathed in the violet glow of the sunset, its surface imbued with the stillness of twilight's hush.
And in the center of it all, the large old tree stood resolute, gnarled and vast, its trunk like the spine of a book containing the memories of all the people who had maintained the temple. Its size dwarfed the temple, casting a long, curved, shadow across the area. The branches radiated outward like arms in mid-gesture, thoughtful and slow. Dense foliage clustered close to the limbs, dark green, with interwoven small dusky berries that seemed to pulse subtly in the dark. When the wind passed through its branches, it whispered languages older than speech, a chant that bore resemblance to that of a ritual.
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Ierei felt the weight of the place settle into her bones. It was a quiet gravity that made her steps feel...borrowed? Almost as if her steps were following the steps of people past. Her gaze lingered on the great old tree, its haunting limbs beckoning to her without urgency.
Orvyn's voice broke the spell, calling to her from the temple's main hall. "Ierei! Over here is the main hall!"
She turned toward him, reluctantly pulling her gaze from the tree. The main hall loomed ahead, broad and solemn, yet somehow diminished beneath the tree's ancient, indelible presence, as if even cold stone and steel bowed to the power of memory. Orvyn slowly opened the doors to the main hall, the wooden doors creaking open with weight, but what lay behind them was anything but grand.
Ierei stepped inside and paused. The air was still, but not sacred. Just still. Her eyes drifted past the low table and the scattered cushions to the back of the room, where a narrow staircase rose quietly against the wall. Plain pine, the steps were smoothed by time, the handrail worn from years of use. A single multicolor sock lay crumpled on the second step. Forgotten. The kind of thing you'd expect in a house where someone lived...not a temple.
To the right, there was a modest kitchen tucked into the corner of the house, the stairs leading above it. There were no ceremonial tools, shrines or gleaming brass, just a stove, a dented kettle, and some pots and pans left out on the black quartz countertop. The countertop formed a U, with the stove nestled into its base. A dishcloth hung from a hook, its colors faded from sun exposure and use. On the stove was a clear pot, half filled with water, as if someone had meant to boil it...but got distracted.
At the foot of the staircase was a set of wooden doors that led out to the backyard. They were glass-paned, streaked with wear, and through them Ierei could see what looked like a courtyard. To the side of the courtyard were storage containers, the kind used to store balls, and other recreational items.
Everything looked normal. Too normal. Ierei couldn't help but grasp her hands together. The stove, the dishcloth. The kettle. Each detail settled into place like they were puzzle pieces from someone's life. It was normal in a way that felt rehearsed. Like a set.
It was... a house. A plain house.
The kind of house that might belong to a quiet family. The scent of sweet potatoes was stronger here, overpowering the faint musk from outside.
It wasn't sacred. It wasn't haunted. Just...lived-in.
And that, somehow, unsettled her more than any ancient relic or rite ever had.
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But, there was still something off. The inside of the main hall felt small. Too small. The vast outside of the hall didn't fit with the inside.
"Uncle. This...is so small? Where's the rest?"
Orvyn paused, setting down his bag. He glances around, as if he hadn't noticed.
"The rest?" he responds, as if tasting the word. "This is the main hall."
He turned to face her, his usual grin on his face, but his face was unreadable. "It's always been like this."
Ierei frowned. She glanced back at the doors, then at the ceiling and the walls. The proportions were wrong. She stepped back a small amount towards the door, glancing up. The ceiling was low, lower than it should be. The building had loomed from the front, it had been broad, solemn, imposing. But inside...it felt like a cottage. A small, modest cottage.
She stepped towards the closest wall, pressing her palm against the wood. The wood was cool beneath her palm, the grain running smooth. But the pressure of her hand didn't echo the way it should have. Almost as if the walls absorbed more than touch.
"Are there other rooms? Hidden ones?" she asked, her voice fading into silence.
Orvyn gave her a small shrug and smiled. "There's the upstairs. The courtyard. And the rooms for my students. That's all."
He said it simply, smiling, wide and practiced. His eyes were drifting across the back of the house, as if he was taking it in. As if he was a child coming home after a long vacation.
Silence fell over the room as Orvyn and Ierei stood awkwardly in the entrance.
Suddenly breaking the silence, Orvyn clears his throat. "Let me show you to your room! I think you'll appreciate it quite a lot." His smile is normal again. Wide, splitting his face into the Grand Canyon.
Ierei nods in response, hesitantly following Orvyn up the steps.
"Here's your room." At the top of the stairs, he points to the room at the end of the hallway. The hallway was large, what you'd expect from a hall as big as the one they were in. In fact...the hall seemed to be larger than the entirety of the ground floor.
Her room was the last one down the large hallway lined with doors. Each door had a nameplate next to it. These nameplates were different for each door, different designs, different colors, different…everything. One had a crossed hammer and sword design carved into it, another had a book, another had gloves. Some had symbols that Ierei didn't recognize on them. Then, there were the names. Tyrn, Vyren, Anyka, Jyn…these names were also different.
At her room was a nameplate with the name Yvette on it. The name was round, it was human. It sat on the door like a quiet whisper in a room full of echoes. It didn't fit. Not with the rest of the names. Simple, soft. The room behind the door was the same. Simple. A bed, a desk, a window. There wasn't much of any belongings in the room, but it wasn't dusty.
Ierei turns to Orvyn. "Uncle, who is Yvette? Why am I taking her room?"
Orvyn looks away, his eyes focusing on the window, like he was watching for someone who might still come back. "She was a student here. But...she's gone. It's our only empty room, so..." His sentence trails off silently, his voice trembling. His fingers curled at his sides, slightly, as if they were remembering holding something.
Ierei shifted in her boots, unsure of how to respond to Orvyn. Gently, Ierei asks, "She...left?"
He nodded slowly. "Not exactly."
Ierei feels Clover becoming warm in her hand. The comforting presence of her bunny plush gave her courage. It almost felt as if there was a hand holding hers. "Then...what?" Ierei didn't need an answer, she could tell. There was only one explanation.
He didn't answer either. His hand slipped into his jacket pocket, pausing for a moment. His face flickered, uncertain, like he was weighing something invisible. A rule, maybe. Or a promise. Finally, he drew out a key. It was made of brass, the same as the nameplates.
"If you want to know the truth, you're going to need this," he says, pressing it into her hand.
"What? What is this key for?"
Orvyn turns, his shoulders loosening as he walks away. Re-slinging his jacket over his shoulder, the tremble in his voice was gone. "You'll figure it out, I'm sure," he said, as if they were discussing something as trivial as a missing book, or a lost item.
Ierei stood alone in the hallway, and she felt the weight of the key in her hand. Turning the key over in her hand, its edges were smooth. Etched along the shaft of the key were characters she couldn't read. They resembled written Ancient Aegyian, except...no one had spoken or written Aegyian in centuries.
"This...must be a puzzle." She murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "You like puzzles."
Goosebumps prickled her arms. A chill wind stirred the hallway, though no windows were open.
She turned slowly, and entered her, no Yvette's room. She couldn't call the rooms hers. Not yet. Not until she solved the key.
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If only she had known.
That the key would changeeverything.