Inky's Collection of Shorts

The Forgotten Temple

She found the temple at night, when the winds raged around her and the ominous clouds above threatened to drown her in their tears. The rain had chased her through the forest, pelting her with droplets so strong that even the branches of the trees could do nothing but watch as she raced past. Her clothes clung to her body, hugging her with their uncomfortable wetness, cooing at her to embrace them back and give in to the chill that sapped her already waning strength.

It was a forgotten structure, overgrown and covered in moss and vines that stretched up the sides of the walls, creeping steadily across every surface its leafy tentacles encountered. It looked like it wouldn't be able to last through a particularly hard storm, but she figured that her luck couldn't be that bad as to end up with choosing the one night that nature's forces decided it was time for it to collapse.

No, her luck certainly wasn't that bad. Instead, it was impressively very much worse.

She ducked through the entrance, her hands raised to protect her head from the downpour. Stepping into the damp but definitely not flooded building felt like being reborn, the musky warmth of the place reaching out to her. She shivered, letting it take its hold, and pulled the strip of fabric she'd used to tie up her hair away, the dark strands matted together by the rain.

Truly, it was a miracle that the temple was still standing. She turned her gaze back out to the curtain of water just outside the entrance, listening to the sound of the water dripping down from her hair, intermingling with the thundering of the rain a couple steps beyond. It echoed. The temple must be large, she thought idly. She hadn't really been able to tell from outside, as the vines camouflaged  the building perfectly amidst the green of the forest. Now that she was free from the pouring shower and monsters that roamed at night, her attention was drawn to the rest of the belly of the temple that had swallowed her. Surely there must be more in there, right? There must be much to discover. It looked like no one had touched the place in centuries. Whatever treasures lay in its arms would soon be laying in hers.

The corridors were dark and gloomy, reflecting the weather outside. Brackets lined the stone walls at neat intervals, old metal that, together with a torch, might have been a sconce that provided light some time ago. As she traced the outlines of the rough surface beneath her fingertips, she almost wished that she could return to that time so that she could at least see the ground in front of her. Then she reminded herself that if she went back that far, she'd probably be nothing but a speck in the vast universe.

The silence that surrounded her was unnerving. She clutched her clothes in her free hand, feeling the water trickle through the gaps between her fingers, as she walked. Each footstep felt much louder, much more imminent as it broke the quiet, as she made her way through the temple. It felt suffocating, which was strange. The place was quite large, nothing close to a structure that would cause claustrophobia to settle in. Yet, there she stood, the pressure of the roof high above seemingly much closer than it truly was.

She felt the hall curve, driving her leftwards. The air around her felt warmer than before, thick with must and long-forgotten whispers that once would have echoed through the stone. The hall spit her out into a wide atrium, lit up dimly by the bruised blue sky above through panels of glass on the roof. A throne, made of some kind of wood she'd probably be able to recognize and name if it were bright enough to tell the colors and textures, graced the center. Her breath caught in her throat as she made out limbs draped over the armrests, legs crossed at the ankles and a hand propping up a chin.

It wasn't possible. The temple was so old, on the brink of collapse. One last shuddering breath, and it would fall. She had only found it by sheer luck, having made one too many wrong turns following a path through the trees that might have been forged by rabbits.

There was no way another person could be in it.

She flinched as the voice drifted through the air, soft, but carrying with it an edge that could draw blood if she came too close. "It has been a long time since one has come to my temple. You must truly have been lost to have found your way here."

Her mouth opened on instinct, ready to defend herself, when a thought struck her. "'Your temple'?" she repeated cautiously.

Through the dimness, she caught the flash of a small smile on the person's face. "My temple," he clarified. "Though I suppose this ramshackle thing is not much use to me anymore now."

His temple. Not even the architects who planned such a place would ever dare to claim it as their own. Which meant that....

She dropped into a bow, feeling goosebumps rising over her skin. "I was very lost," she admitted. "I wasn't— I didn't mean to intrude."

"Intrude?" the god said, raising an eyebrow. He dropped his hand, letting his head hang as he smiled up at her. If possible, her goosebumps seemed to spread even quicker. "No. You are a guest in my most humble abode."

In that moment, she recognized him. Her family had taught her to respect all the great deities, but his name was one that was only spoken in the passing in her household. Others, though; she'd listened to rich men shout it out with glee, raising wineglasses in the air in a toast. People who never had to work hard for what life had dumped in their laps. People who she despised.

"God of sloth," she whispered, closing her eyes as her hands curled up into fists beside her. "It is... an honor."

She never heard the footsteps, only knew that in the next second, he was standing in front of her, regarding her with a disinterested curiosity. "I suppose it must be," he said, and she knew immediately that he saw right through her. "It would be, if I were not so despicable. 'Why should one worship a god who does nothing but sit around, who, in turn, breeds a sense of laziness in others? Why should he get my respect?'"

He swept around, his stark hair luminous at close range. "Because," he said, his voice quieting down again, "no one should get far in life by doing nothing. The poor work hard to earn every day of their lives. One is only allowed to laze around when one has surpassed the confines that they struggled to." Those piercing eyes fell to her. "I am able to lounge around and do nothing, because I have already done everything. You can take that as you see fit."

His hand raised up in a goodbye, a languid gesture of the wrist, but she found her gaze clinging to the movement, watching as the god strolled past the throne and was swallowed up by the darkness as if he had never been there in the first place. He hadn't, to anyone else she shared her tale with after that day.

But she knew better.