It was a fabled legend about a distant star that could grant the wishes to only those whose desires were immense. For a long time, Polaris thought it was just a fairy tale until one night, the star visited him and gifted a new purpose. Now, Polaris...
At the heart of the region was the town of Shatterport, but at the heart of Shatterport was the Saintess Temple. Although Polaris never considered himself a faithful man,m whenever the bells of the temple tolled, he would invite himself to its service. However, this morning it didn't ring for the first time had had lived in the town. Not a single oscillation rung at the sharpened hour of nine. Not a flock of birds scattered from the greying stone tower.
As the kettle sat on top of the stove's flames, he kept his eyes at the pocket watch in his hands. The seconds into minutes passed, and the town remained silent till the kettle whistled.
Service's refusal to summon the townspeople was peculiar, and even though it's not meant to summon him. Within Polaris grew a node of curiosity that enticed him towards the temple. Finishing his cup of tea, he dressed himself in a warm jacket and wrapped his red bandana around his neck to brace the outside world.
Age inlaid itself into the stonework of the streets and housing. It wrapped and coiled around the grime and cracks, toiling away the value of the property. The residents deemed Confessor's Streets as an ill neighbourhood for this reason, but Polaris found it suitable enough to have a roof over his head.
The street lamps had flickered off hours ago, yet they provided guidance through the hustling street by their tall statures. With his hands kept within his pockets and arms locked to his chest, he flowed with the crowd towards the temple as fluidly as he could. However, the occasional bump of the elbows with a stranger was unavoidable and the ringing shouts of passerby almost dissuaded him from continuing to seek refuge back in his loft. Polaris continued onward as the crowd thinned when he reached a lanky street of poorer usage, only reserved for the pious travellers into the temple's courtyard.
There he stood before the steel gate trimmed in silver leaves that birthed astral flowers. The letters on the gate warped around the centre figure of the Saintess, whose petite gown clothed her in fine silver and turquoise copper.
The words read, TO HOPE AND TO THRIVE.
The development of the town swarmed the temple grounds and bit lands from its possessions to regurgitate housing and shops. With stoneworks to flank, the garden before the main entrance faded and retracted into neglect by even the keepers. Every visit Polaris took, the garden looked even more desperate than the last for attention. It was almost a pitiful sight.
Upon shuffling to the grand doors, he took notice that there were no attendees or a presence of the pious about. He glanced from the corner of the garden to the gate and felt unsure if he had not received the memo of some closure or happening. As he went up the stone steps, he saw a slight opening of the doors and slipped in to be greeted by the familiar atmosphere of the temple.
Above him was the dome of the Saintess, painted with the murals of the stars and divine iconographies of the Saintess in her gown, the Archer with his bow, and the Sailor in his ship. Circular and celestial symbols crowned them as paragons of piety, holiness, and virtues with the painted mass of people reaching upward towards the dome from below on the walls. As the light filtered through the stained glass of the temple, the world around Polaris gained consciousness and yearned for golden perfection.
"The temple is not in service for today, I'm afraid." A woman's voice spoke as she revealed herself from behind a pillar. She looked to be a pious servant with a veil obscuring her upper head that could not hide the coarse and greying hair flowing down her shoulders. Wrinkles embossed her lower face that many would judge her as feeble.
Polaris said, "I'm sorry, I'll leave right away."
Just as he committed to turning around, however, she said, "wait." The woman raised her head and revealed a small glimpse of her eyes beneath the ornate cloth veil, and Polaris watched as the light shifted in fragments around her.
She was not as feeble in appearance as she seemed. Her eyes could not lie to him of an integrity inlaid within her hazel pupils. An integrity bound not to the Universea, but to her humanity. He felt comforted because she maintained eye contact and bound their eyes together in a mutual contract with humanity.
It was rare for anyone to look directly into Polaris's eyes because of his left eye defect that repulsed many strangers and even acquaintances.
Yet, her stare invited him to stay.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
