Old Souls

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The temple is quiet at this hour. Distant sounds of revelry in the night still find a way to echo faintly within the stone walls. Salt can be tasted in the air as the sea breeze wafts in, causing candles in sconces in the walls to flicker.

A cleric walks through the halls, her loose robes floating with each soft step. Her dark eyes flit from tapestry to mural to statuette as she progresses, stopping briefly beside each one, simply to admire it. Everything is in its place. Stories she has heard a hundred times, art she has seen a thousand times more, yet every instance that they cross her sight, she can't help but smile.

Eventually, her wandering mind carries her to the entry hall. A wide open space with tapestries and faceless statues that tower above the tallest of people. For now, it remains empty of life, containing only memories of mortals who have passed through. A swift breeze suddenly rushes in, ruffling the cleric's translucent hood, pulling some of her light silver hair from its place. Her calloused yet gentle hands rush to fix it when she notices someone has joined this liminal space. A man. He struggles to push the immense door closed, attempting to do so gently against the wind that continues to try to push through. The door shuts, the latch clicks, and the hall is quiet once again. There he stands, seemingly lost in such a simple space. His eyes dart about, looking for danger where there is none to be found. The cleric watches as he tries to let his body relax, but he remains too alert. A warrior. A traveller, she assumes.

Smoothing down her navy blue tunic and shawl, the cleric approaches slowly. "Is there something I can help you with?" Her voice is heavenly, like an angel singing. She smiles, her freckles dotted like starlight on her dark grey face. He reciprocates the smile, fidgeting with his cloak pin. He unclasps it, reattaches it again multiple times before leaving it and brings his arms stiffly to his sides.

"I heard you could connect with souls of the dead here?" He croaks with a deep voice long unused.

"Of course," the cleric nods slowly, "is that a service you seek? If so, then you're in luck." She glances up to the air, feeling the slightest shift towards a warm wind. "This night is perfect for it."

"If you could show me how," he mutters as he bows his head, "I'd greatly appreciate it." How respectful to lower his gaze to the holy, but this was a night for seeing eye to eye. Turning to the side, she motions with a sweeping gesture, like a wave crawling across the shore.

"Right this way."

The cleric leads the traveller through the halls to a set of spiral stairs. In its centre, rather than the stark stone pillar, as is custom with the style in castles, strings hang with crystals of many shapes and colours, ascending through the levels. As the pair climb, the shards spin from their presence, briefly reflecting their beauty from and to planes unreachable.

Before they know it, the stairs have levelled out onto a dark wooden floor. 2 enclosed lanterns hanging on pillars at the side of this open-air room are all that provide this space with illumination. Fences line the edge of this enclosure, interrupted by stone pillars, standing in a protective circle, still allowing a clear view of the city unfolding below. To the east, the ships float on a peaceful sea. To the west, the last remnants of the light of day, turning a sliver of the horizon into the calmest purple before it gives way to the dark blue of night, allowing peace to settle upon the restless souls in the cursed earth beyond the walls. Even the land reflects the sky, with lanterns below shining like the stars above.

Glancing upward, a conical roof of dark wood reaches into the sky, a web of rafters spiralling up into the shadows. Cobwebs are not all that decorate the unreachable crevices. Looking up to the beams, the traveller finds many eyes watching back. Dark, glassy eyes with even darker, glossier feathers. Disturbed in their space by the new arrivals, the birds ruffle their feathers before settling down again.

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