The Temple of the Nine Shards lies empty, wind whispering through the broken pillars and shattered walls. I carefully step over fragments of the fresco ceiling, glowing with an internal light, forward into the shadow.
The roof had collapsed ages ago, allowing the shadow to seep in, like a viscous fluid, collecting in small pools in the uneven floor, but at the same time it’s thin and insubstantial; I walk through the shadow flowing in from the roof and pass right through, a slight chill where it touches skin, before evaporating like wine, briefly leaving patches of dark before they fade from view.
I approach the altar. The floor is cleaner here, the shadow keeping its distance, but the Nine Shards lie dark, three of the shards knocked askew. The shards hum as I approach, and as I reach out they spark and flash with the smell of vanilla, but sputter and silent as soon as I make contact. I realign the three shards, and a sigh flows through the temple. The shadow retreats. The wind stops.
A voice whispers into my mind.
“Thank you…”
The two words come from different directions; the first from behind, the second to the right, as if the two words came different beings. But I know the speaker, despite never knowing their name.
The Fourth of the Nine. The God of Whispers. The God of Shadows. The God of Deception and Lies.
But their voice is soft and weak. Despite being in their own temple, their powers are weakened, strained. They sense my misgivings.
“It has been many years since anyone has come to the temple.” the voice speaks, words coming from all directions, disjointed yet whole. “And I require your assistance. All my followers have abandoned me, and the other eight have fled. But I am bound to this place, until a piece of me is returned. This is a favor that I ask of you. I have nothing to give you in return.”
There’s a whisper and a hint of cinnamon, and a wind kicks up, stirring the shadow from the corners of the temple. Behind the altar, the shadow shifts out of the way, revealing a rough-hewn staircase descending into shadow.
I take the stairs two at a time into the cold dark, chest constricting as the shadow rises past my chest and up to cover my head. The shadow fills my ears with the sound of shattering glass, but the shadow itself is translucent, draining the color out of my surroundings. The walls gave way from interlocking pentagonal stones to a smooth, white expanse, twisting clockwise as it wound deeper and deeper, until I find myself knee-deep in water, walking towards the shore.
I’ve been here before but I don’t remember. The towers still stand, and the streets still wind in the same direction, but the streets are empty now, and the towers lie silent, absently tilting to one side. I wade out of the water and onto the beach, and the sound of shadows is replaced with the smell of salt, ebbing and flowing with each wave. My feet sink into the sand as I make my way up to the concrete breakers, a mix of tetrahedrons and anchors piled at the end of the beach, where I used to go skipping classes back in high school, but as I try to climb the concrete comes away in my hand, crumbling like powder and leaving spines embedded in my palm, but without pain, only a sense of numbness.
The waves lap at the base of the breakers, and the concrete dissolves like candy floss. A tower falls into the water. I climb anyways, ignoring the spines, slipping a few times as the concrete gives way under my feet. As I reach the top a wave crashes against the wall, dissolving the concrete barricades, and washing it into the sea.
The streets are familiar, but lead the wrong way. The street that once lead to the market now leads to the food court, and what used to be the hospital is now the mall. Even so, I know exactly what leads where, and immediately set off down the main street.
The asphalt road gives way to dirt as the buildings give way to jungle, and soon the foliage is thick, scratching at my skin as I brush through. But at the end of the jungle path lies a skyscraper, sides all glass and chrome, humidity condensing on the windows in the heat. I stare into one of the mirrored windows, and I find myself inside, the cold air biting at my skin. I’m in the lobby, and a broken escalator extends upwards out of sight.
I begin the climb. At first the climb is easy, adjusting rapidly to the height of the steps, but as I continue to climb, I began to feel uneasy; the air felt thinner, and I kept catching glimpses of my reflection from the corner of my eye, which seemed to get closer as I climbed higher.
As soon my foot touches the top of the escalator, I begin to fall. Upwards; it’s as if gravity had suddenly switched, and as I pitch upwards my reflections close in on me, eyes gleaming in the darkness. They grab at my clothes and hair; I try to fight them off, but to no avail. After a brief moment of struggle, we crashed through the ceiling.
Shards of glass fly as I continue to fall, reflections banished in their wake. I land on the ground (ceiling?) and the debris falls down around me with the patter of rain. I get to my feet in a featureless black room, floor rippling slowly reflecting my form, and that of an ebony spear, impaled in a body visible in reflection. I reached out with my reflected arm and take hold of the spear, and pull it out of the body.
I blink, and I’m back at the temple. The shadow had retreated back to the corners of the room, hiding behind pillars, revealing statues of the Eight, each precisely decapitated by a single blow to the head. But the central altar was glowing, one shard glowing brighter than the rest.
The voice begins again, scattered syllables coming from all angles.
“You are back. The part of me has been returned. I thank you for your service. Embed it in the altar, and all will be done.”
I heft the spear in my hand, suddenly noticing its weight, its inky blackness shimmering like oil. I raise it in one hand and stab into the altar, and immediately the shadow lunges.
Through the chill and desaturation, I watch as the walls and ceiling crumble away. The statues are no longer statues, but rather headless corpses. And the altar at the center of the temple was also replaced by another body, this one stabbed through the chest, still bleeding out onto the shadow floor.
And I wake the morning after, with nothing remembered.