The road out of the village was quiet, the morning mist curling around the tree trunks like slow-moving ghosts. Ren trudged along, clutching his satchel awkwardly, while Aeri walked ahead with the ease of someone who belonged in the forest.
"So," Ren said, trying to sound casual, "you've been showing me shadows of dead gods, giving me cryptic advice, and now we're hiking? My legs hurt, by the way."
Aeri didn't turn. "The Temple is close. And your legs are less important than your mind being ready."
Ren groaned. "…My mind? That thing barely survives breakfast. Do I get a coffee break before divine trauma 2.0?"
Aeri smirked faintly. "We'll see."
After another hour of walking through the misted trees, the temple came into view. It was a crumbling structure, half-swallowed by ivy and time, yet there was a strange dignity in its decay. The entrance archway had carvings so worn they were almost illegible—but for a brief moment, Ren thought he glimpsed familiar symbols, as if some memory stirred in his mind.
"Why do all these places look like they were built to terrify new arrivals?" Ren muttered.
"Because they were," Aeri replied simply. "This temple holds fragments of the old pantheon. Names of gods erased, histories forgotten, powers sealed. Only… certain people can touch them without breaking."
Ren's eyes darted to the doorway. "…And let me guess—I'm one of those certain people?"
"Maybe," Aeri said, stepping into the shadowed interior. "Maybe not. You'll find out soon enough."
The temple smelled of stone, moss, and time itself. Columns leaned precariously, and broken statues littered the floor, their features faded beyond recognition. A faint blue glow pulsed around Ren's hand, the mark reacting to the energy in the air.
"…Yep. Definitely not a normal field trip," he muttered.
A rustling echoed from deeper within the temple. Ren flinched. "Uh… hello? Anyone home? I come in peace… mostly."
From the shadows, a figure emerged—a man cloaked in worn robes, silver hair streaked with gray, carrying a staff topped with a small crystal. His eyes were calm, unnervingly sharp, and they fixed on Ren with a disconcerting familiarity.
"You've come," the man said softly, almost like a statement rather than a question.
Ren blinked. "…Uh… yes? I guess? Do we need to sign a guest book or something?"
The man chuckled quietly. "No. But you should understand… not all who enter here leave unchanged."
Ren swallowed hard. "…Changed? Like… physically? Mentally? Or, uh… emotionally wrecked?"
"Perhaps all of the above," the man said, eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and wisdom. He took a step closer. "You bear the mark. The Silent One."
Ren glanced at his palm, now glowing faintly. "…Yeah. That thing. Apparently it's a key or a curse or both."
The man's lips curved in a knowing smile. "Both, yes. And it will reveal much… about who you really are."
Aeri stiffened beside him, arms crossed. "Are you… trustworthy?"
The man's smile widened slightly. "That depends. Trust is earned, Silent One. Not given lightly. But I can help you read the traces here—if you are willing to learn."
Ren sighed. "…Fine. I survive dragons, god fragments, and minor trauma daily. Learning from a mysterious stranger seems… safer than the alternative."
The man led them to a central hall where a shattered mural sprawled across the wall. Figures of gods—some serene, some fierce—stood frozen in acts of creation and destruction. Many had their names scratched away, the traces faint, almost erased from memory itself.
"Look closely," the man instructed. "These fragments tell a story. Not all of it is complete, but patterns remain. And some… will respond only to you."
Ren's mark pulsed again, a warm vibration that tingled through his hand. He reached toward the mural. A faint blue light emanated from his fingers, tracing lines in the stone. The names of forgotten gods shimmered briefly before fading, like mist in the morning sun.
Aeri's eyes widened. "…It's responding… only to him."
The man nodded. "Yes. You have a connection. But beware—the echoes are selective. They show only what matters. And what matters… may demand sacrifice."
Ren swallowed. "…Sacrifice. Right. This is fine. Totally fine. I wasn't planning to sleep anyway."
The cloaked man studied him for a long moment. "You will learn much here, Silent One. About the gods, about echoes, and… about yourself."
Ren frowned. "…About myself? Can we skip that part? I'm bad at self-reflection."
The man chuckled, turning back to the mural. "Sooner or later, the echoes force reflection whether you like it or not. But for now… learn. Observe. Survive."
Ren groaned. "…So… adventure, training, cryptic wisdom. Got it. Normal Tuesday."
High in the temple's broken tower, a pair of golden eyes observed quietly, a faint, amused smile crossing the face of someone who knew far more than they let on.
Somewhere in the temple, history itself held its breath.
To be continued…
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