Once stood the saint, a stunning, beautiful, elegant child who never reached puberty.
With little choice, he had to decide between the massive sea serpent and the temple. Brush and Ereo rushed toward the temple as the serpent's massive arms slammed behind them, barely missing their mark. Yet, as they neared the temple, the serpent froze, refusing to attack, as if it feared what might happen if the temple were destroyed or disturbed. The first thought that crossed their minds was its size. The temple was tiny, barely the size of a living room, and made of a translucent black material. It had small steps—only two of them—leading to a small open gate that shone with a pure white glow. Next to it were two pillars that didn't seem necessary to keep the flat roof of the structure from collapsing.
The terrified duo, noticing the sea serpent had halted, took no chances and rushed inside.
"If it stopped that thing from attacking us, we can use it to buy time," Brush pointed out as he rushed inside, with Ereo quick on his heels. Inside, the temple was empty, dark, and dull, yet...
"This," Ereo spoke out, his voice melancholic and weak, nothing like the prideful, arrogant tone he once had.
It wasn't long before the "machine" began to feel the same depression that suddenly overtook both of them.
"This SUCKS!" Ereo cried out as the reality of their situation began to set in.
As the machine turned toward him, a weak, shaky voice cried out, causing them both to tense up.
"Bro... brother?..."
"Have you survived?... or are—are you someone else?"
"WHO'S THERE?" Ereo yelled back, his voice echoing throughout the claustrophobic temple as he approached the source of the voice—a wall.
"WE ARE ARMED, AND THERE'S A MASSIVE SNAKE WAITING FOR US!" Brush added, finishing the thought.
"I do not own my name," replied the voice behind the wall.
"Own your name? Are you a machine?" Ereo called back.
"I existed before machines... before..." The voice was now shakier, almost to the point of crying.
"Are you trapped in there, kid?" Brush asked.
"You think it's a kid in there, machine?"
"Do you have any other ideas, metal boy?"
"Should we even save a kid?" Brush continued. "What if that thing outside is refusing to attack the kid and not the temple? We could get an easy way out of this."
Brush and Ereo shared a look, both reaching an unspoken agreement: "survival over ethics." They nodded.
"We're getting you out, kid," Ereo said as Brush slammed his body against the wall. The wall instantly disappeared, as if held together by light and sound, causing Brush to fall on his face as he looked up.
Ereo walked in behind him, his leg getting caught on something on the floor. It was too dark to see anything. As Ereo looked back at what caused him to stumble, he saw chains. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed that the room, from roof to floor, was covered in chains, all leading to something on the left wall of this tight "prison."
The figure on the wall was small, no larger than a child's body. It was pure black, made of the same material as the dungeon. The figure would have blended into the wall if not for the obvious glow of blue and gold rotating around its body. The blue glow, a small spiky orb, kept spinning in place around where the lungs, heart, and throat would connect. Its pace was slow, gentle, and breezy, almost hypnotic. The golden orb was much smaller, perfectly round, and constantly rushing around the body—from arms to legs, head to chest—racing as if it were the blood flowing through the veins.
YOU ARE READING
the garden within the wasteland
Acciónthis land used to be beautiful, a land filled with life, plants, and animals, Now what's left of it is the machines, man-kind, and the final form of art and self expression, war. (inspired mostly by Elden Ring, bleach and ultra kill)