In the dawn even before the sun could rise they left.
No fancy banners were drew with ralley.
No dramatic announcements of royal carts.
Their wasn't a crowded lines of people's, who's eyes were eager to steal a single glance of their King and queen.
It was—just a small gathering of people, moving through paths that had not felt footsteps in a long time, one the road that left alone with dust, spiderwebs and crawling vines everywhere.
Sambha was carried.
Wrapped carefully, his breathing was steady but unmoving, his face had become pale against the dark cloth. Without food and water for almost five day—on top that three years old child.
Sambha's mother walked beside him, hands clasped so tightly Limbo could see the tremor even in the low light.
The king walked at the front.
Without any royal guards, and royal majestic armour.
Though he did need that. That's a different thing.
As if this was not a journey that required protection —but permission of someone.
Limbo followed behind the elder, rin and Gaja close at his side, no one spoke. Even the Talkative Gaja, usually restless in silence, kept his mouth shut.
The further they walked, the more the land began to changed.
Stone gave way for them with older stones.
Paths were narrowed, then widened again, as if reshaped over time rather than built overnight.
The air felt... layered.
Not like heavy or oppressive, ready to crush them.
Just deep, that hold story of its own.
Limbo felt it immediately.
Not as mana pressure, but as density of meaning.
Like walking into a place that already had decided what —whom it would allowed.
They reached it as the first light touched the horizon.
The temple did not rise proudly.
It did not dominate the land.
It was embedded in It.
The outer structure was weathered, fracture by age and left neglected. Stone pillars stood unevenly, some cracked, others half-buried. Moss clung freely. Untrimmed. No incense were burned. No offering lay at its base.
Instead 'Simhachalam Sampenga' carried
The weight of temple fragrance, like nature was mentaining the alters by itself.
At the entrance stood a broken statues.
Once tall.
Once imposing.
Now missing its head and one arms, the remaining stone smoothed by time. It's posture suggested protection—arms once spread, body angled forward as if standing between something and the world.
Limbo stopped walking.
That was first thing he noticed.
Not the scale.
No, not even the silence.
The absence.
The statue had failed.
Or been abandoned.
Or maybe deliberately left this way.
No one spoke.
They passed without ceremony.
Inside, the air changed instantly.
Not colder.
Nor it was warmer.
Still.
Too still.
The inner chambers was circular, carved directly into the stone beneath the land. The walls were not decorated with scriptures or praise— but with marks. Deep groove, scars and faded patterns etched in no clear order.
At the center stood the second statue.
Intact.
Huge and tall, broad shoulders, strong legs.
Arms like elephant trunk.
Long haired. No weapon in hands.
"Just a look that was enough to fill the terror in the sinful heart. Same time warm smile that was enough to melt a warm heart soul in tears of joy."
Half man.
Half lion.
Frozen mid-roar.
It's expression was not of rage alone—but judgment restrained by purpose. Claws half-extended, muscles coiled, eyes carved with terrifying clarity.
And above it.
A canopy.
Not cloth..
Not stone.
Something organic and pale, stretched and suspended by unseen supports, shielding the statue like an umbrella.
As they move few steps closer.
The servants stood beneath it..
Heads covered, eyes lowered.
None dare to look directly at the statue.
Limbo felt his breath catch.
Not by the fear.
Recognition.
This wasn't containment.
The elder of elder's stood before the statue.
He was smaller than Limbo expected.
Wrapped in layers of robes, his hair long white, his posture bent—but not weak. His presence felt...anchored.
He did not turn when they entered.
He did not bow.
He did not greet the king.
He spoke only after sambha was laid gently upon the stone platform before the statue.
"He still sleeps," the elder of elder said.
It was not a question.
"Yes," Sambha's mother replied, her voice tight. "Five days."
The elder of elder's nodded slowly.
"You waited," he said. " That is good."
The king stepped forward. "And now?"
The elder of elder's raised one hand
Silence deepened.
"Now," he said, "you listen."
No chant followed.
Nor any rituals.
He simply placed his palm on the stone beside sambha.
The air shifted.
Not violently.
Not visibly.
But Limbo felt it—like system state change without notification.
The elder of elder's closed his eyes.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then—
"He's not trapped," the elder said quietly.
Sambha's mother exhaled shakily.
"He's not taken," he continued.
The king did not Move.
"But he is... between."
Limbo's fingers curled slowly.
Between.
The words echoed.
The elder of elder's opened his eyes and looked —not at the king—but at the Limbo.
Directly.
"You," he said.
Limbo stiffened.
"You see pattern," the elder continued. "But this place does not answer patterns."
He turned his back to the statue.
"This," he said, gesturing once, "is not a god."
The servants fliched slightly.
"It is response," the elder said. "To a world that failed its own rules."
Limbo swallowed.
The elder of elder's stepped back.
"We will not wake the child," he said.
Sambha's mother froze. "Then why are we here?"
"Because," the elder replied calmly, "if he wakes on his own, he must remember that he was protected."
The spoke for the first time. "And if he does not?"
The elder of elder's gazed hardened.
"The land will choose how it remembers."
The chamber felt silent.
No one argued.
Limbo looked again' at the statue.
At the coiled restarint.
The unbearable readiness.
This wasn't salvation.
It was rather like failsafe.
A final clause written into the world when all others failed.
And suddenly, Limbo understood what he had noticed first—before the statue, before the silence.
The broken Guardian outside.
This was not the first time
The land had needed this before.
And that realisation was heavier than any fear, the elder of elder's turned away.
"Leave him," he said. "And leave this place."
They obeyed.
As they exited, Limbo glanced back once more.
The statue did not Move...
But the silence felt... attentive.
Behind them, the broken guardian outside caught the morning light.
And for a moment —just a moment —
Limbo wondered how many times the world has already reached this point.
But is this the right direction he's been going!
Who knows.
"Let the sunshine, and darkness be fade."
Continue to give support and encouragement.
This is the story of a debuger who's destiny is unknown.