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He knows so little of this city. And he’s only five.
Keep him safe,I plead with the Highest.
Exhausted, I crumple onto the steps of the shrine to the Shrouded. I set down the lantern and bury my face in my hands. First my parents, and now my brother. Am I destined to lose everything in this cursed valley? Sobs tear my chest apart.
Elyon, why did we ever come here?I ask in silent whispers.Why would you lead my family to a place that has caused us so much pain?
We’ve been in Utsanek for three years, and as far as I can see, nothing good has come from it.
Are you listening?my heart groans.Do you even care?
All I hear is an unfeeling rumble of ambient chatter.
Why won’t you show yourself to me? I don’t know if you are even here.
The pernicious thought slips in between my prayers, taking advantage of the frailty my failings have exposed. I raise my head and wipe the wetness away from my face. Seething shadows obscure the sky. Oh, what I would give to see it again.
As if summoned by my melancholy, the expanse opens up and a curtain of rain descends. Patrons shriek and laugh, running to find shelter in buildings and beneath awnings. I turn my face up to it and wonder if this is a punishment from Elyon, or if it means nothing at all.
Maybe I should look for help elsewhere.
Behind me, the door of the fanum creaks open. Curiosity piqued, I enter.
I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, blinking and hugging my damp frock close to my skin with one hand, clutching the lantern in the other. A dusty smell mingled with a heady musk assaults my senses. My footsteps sound abnormally loud on the stone floor.
“Hello?” I say, almost unable to make the word come out at all. My voice bounces around the space.
Moment by moment, the room reveals itself to me. A huge sola skull hangs from above, faintly illuminating the space. It must be very, very old if it emits such little light. A high roof arches overtop of it, supported by thick pillars. Images of cryptic creatures and ancient Atsunic script I cannot read are carved into their sides. My fingers trace the grooves as I move around the room.
Far more impressive than the pillars, a massive monument dominates the far wall. I approach it slowly, forgetting to breathe as I take in its intricacy.
Whoever created this statue was tremendously skilled. The artist has managed to convey the impression of a terrifying beast with razor claws and eyes that seem alive, while purposely leaving out the finer details. What looks like swirls of vapor curl around it and obscure most of its form. If I didn’t know it was made of stone, I’d expect to reach out and feel nothing but the brush of wind against my fingertips. An ephemeral creature locked forever in time.
I gasp when something moves—a ribbon of smoke folding in on itself as it travels upward. Looking down, I find a lit rod of incense resting in a polished metal bowl.
A frown claims my brow. What am I supposed to do? Take it and wave it around? I don’t know what I’m doing here. Do the kaligorven always listen, or is there some ritual I’m supposed to perform?
“It’s splendid, isn’t it?”
The voice makes me start. I hold up my light and peer around.
A man sits in the far-left corner of the fanum with his back against the wall, his legs splayed carelessly out to the side. He looks up at me between strands of white-blond hair, pressing a finger into an old book to keep his place. My heart pushes into my throat and heat spreads into my face. I turn to leave.
“No, no.” He holds out a hand, arresting my retreat. Dust mushrooms from the volume as he snaps it shut and gets to his feet. “Stay.”
“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.” I brush a spiral of black hair away from my eyes.
“And why shouldn’t you?” he asks as he stretches out his stiff limbs. Respecting my reluctance to banter with him, he flips open a leather bag on the floor and slips the book inside. Returning his attention to me, he strides over.
He has such a peculiar look about him. Not overly muscular, but tall and well-proportioned. Undeniably attractive. My blush deepens. He is definitely not a boy, but someone coming into the peak years of manhood. The lack of pigmentation in his hair and skin makes them so similar, they almost blend together. I squirm inwardly under the scrutiny of his shadowed eyes and look determinedly at the statue. He follows my lead and regards the image.
“I would have every person in Utsanek visit this place and see it for themselves.”
Something about his voice makes me shiver. There is nothing particularly sinister about it, but I can’t help but identify a distinct tone of reverence. A silent warning blares in my soul.
I can feel him looking at me again. My mouth goes dry. Why have I come here? I don’t remember. “H-have you seen one up close?” I ask stupidly. “A real one, I mean.”
His eyes do not leave mine. The corner of his mouth and one of his eyebrows hitch up as if attached to the same invisible string. “Yes, actually.” His smile broadens when I flinch. “Does that frighten you?”
