the garden within the wasteland

Act 2 part 10.5

The handle was cold, despite the fact he had fought with this blade not mere moments ago, my eyes enchained to studying my name now permanently engraved into it.

"Mary wails."

Written with the dying breath of a man that had overstayed his welcome in this life. I could feel the reactions in my brain begin to lose their tension, and as if acting on cue, all the resulting pain struck me. I began to wonder if this pain will scar my body. If so, I'll have to cover my wounds with whatever metal I can find.

My eye continued to study the land around me. Tokugawa's body had begun to disappear into the earth the moment it was given permission, and I was reminded of that temple.

The setting sun behind it exemplified it as something divine; the wind that hallowed and roared from it flew into my clothing. Each gust of wind served to cool my wounds as the wind entered them, its embrace plucking each of my nerves as cords into a melody not meant for me. Before me, that black temple still sorted out to distort my thoughts; I was starting to mistake my own memories for others. mere moments ago? Had I dueled with Tokugawa or ereo? At that temple had I met Casimir or the alchemist? I felt within me, hidden inside the core of my heart, was the truth. The answer, but I forgot the path to it, and I did not have the will to seek it once more, if it's one thing I learned from any scavenger that sought my dialogue. We are all given a singular attempt to find and grasp our purpose, to hug tightly and to dig our nails into it and never let go. Each ghost that is unable to move on had either died before reaching it or after they had lost it. I wished to know which state of restlessness Baldwin had found himself in, but he never answered my questions.

With naught else to occupy me and nothing to scare me, I headed inside the black temple.

The temple was a creation of something grander than humankind could achieve; the material was a translucent black, it had the movement of a shadow but held weight, and it was sculpted with an elegance not found anywhere else within this waste. Yet even this beauty was only a mirror, a mimicry of an age long passed, like a child's drawing of their own abode; that's what this temple appeared like.

As my feet pressed with uncertainty under the mirage, I finally entered the temple; it was disturbingly small, it was only four walls and a single gate, much like the drink's temple. yet nearly one-fourth of the size. It had no accessories except for the chains that filled the floor and moved ever so slightly as the imprisoned shadow stood before me.

The shadow that resembled a child was hung on the wall, its legs and arms compressed and shrunk by the oppressive shackles made of its flesh; chains filled every spot of its body, but the entity didn't seem to care for escape nor for my arrival. Its eyes simply remained forward, piercing enough to acknowledge me but lacking the care to speak to me.

Its body is as hollow as the temple around it, yet never still despite his inaction. Near his chest, a gray orb rotated softly in place of his heart, moving with shoddy energy. A secondary golden orb, shining brighter than any star or light could ever dare, raced with the air around it, slamming in carelessness against the rest of the shadow's body. Its form was tiny yet filled with spikes. It must hurt whenever it slams into it; does it not care for its own suffering?

A chuckle escapes me. As my body wails outwards in pain from my previous wounds once more, I see the irony of my own judgment.

"Have you chosen this fate?"

I questioned redirecting my focus from the pain.

The entity responded in a childlike whisper; his voice was detached and focused, its mind appearing to be as hollow as its eyes.

"I condemned myself."

It stays in a perfect stillness.

"Do you seek freedom?"