Carvings.

Illuminated by the occasional crash of lightning and thunder behind me, I could tell they were everywhere in the hall. Upon the walls, the floor, the ceiling... as I made my way in deeper, often feeling blindly beyond the occasional flash of lightning, they covered every inch of the narrow hall of the temple.

By the tenth step, in, I paused.

Strangely, I found my eyes were adjusting.

Not to the light, exactly. Beyond what the storm brought, there was little light to spare. Instead, it was as if there was some other source present. Like that of light, but not of something similar.

By the twentieth step inside, I could see clearly once more.

There before me, lay true art.

Not of a simple or crude touch, where the hands guided a pale imitation to what the mind had wished to create. No, this was the work of a master- several masters. Generations of dedication, put into place with perfect skill. Even unable to [Identify] the language carved beside the images I saw, I knew the walls told a story.

And that story, as many stories do: began with Gods.

Gods... others... existences beyond men and mortals: that was what I felt they were. Just by looking upon them, it was far too clear. Like the statues which waited ever-vigilant within the forest outside, they stared down upon bowing shapes and figures: cold. There was little love for those mortals who grovelled at their feet, who gave offerings in their long-lost names and titles. For many panels, many blocks of stone: this remains unchanged.

They were above all, it seemed.

Untouchable, unrivaled by any but themselves. The simple and crude shapes of mortals almost seemed a mockery, beside their majestic forms.

Yet, on my thirtieth step beyond the threshold, I found a change.

No longer looking down upon the bowing figures at their feet, the Gods had chosen to look up: watching the uncarved sky of the hall. One, even clutched at its chest, set to kneel as patterns pooled about its feet. Glass and jade, mingled with gold.

No longer, were they expressionless.

They were angry.

A chill to the bone, just to look. The faces of rage, beyond that of human measure, surely. Power that might break whatever it set to shatter, focused in hatred.

As fire rained down from the sky above, they raised their hands, and at last, the mortals at their feet rose.

From their direction, a chosen few step forward, and there the gift of-Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Dark.

Silent.

Nothingness.

Strange... that is what it was, to be woken from a dream: standing in the absolute darkness of a foreign temple, beneath a storm.

Where a story was once told, crafted by masters who knew their craft better than many might ever learn anything in all their lives: around me, there was wreckage.

Fallen stone, crumbled beneath the age of time.

The story, had been ended.

The hall, with all its twists and turns, had become a ruin. I soon stood within the belly of the maze, once again blind to all but the stone beneath my feet, and the empty air before my reaching hands.

Where had I come from?

What direction could take me back?

Stumbling blindly in the pitch of shadows and the oppressive silence of a tomb: I had no answer.

….

Wandering in the dark, blindly feeling my way through the emptiness around me, I had time to collect my thoughts.

Oh, so many thoughts.

How I'd come to be here. From the Palace, to the battlefield, to this strange land. Where I might go, should I get out. Of this ruin, of this forest...

On what I'd seen, who I'd met, how I hoped to live in this world- so unfamiliar to me.

Was I a Hero, or a slave? Was being brought to this world a blessing, or a curse, or something in between?

Did I even want to go back?

Hands desperately reaching for a wall, a pillar- anything solid in the terrifying void of shadows and the sounds of my own footsteps, I resolved that the things which brought me here didn't matter.

None of my questions had an answer, in truth.

No, all that mattered, was the present moment.

Of the here and now.

A mind, alone in this world of nothingness. Lost in a forgotten ruin, of a bygone age, in an unfamiliar world. Lost to the nothingness that lived here, in this strange place. If there was ever a fitting location to find myself lost, I thought, perhaps this was it. Still, I did not pray for mercy, or forgiveness, or shout for help. Instead, I continued on forward: blind to all things.

Yet… my mind persisted.

As it always had, I was running on an endless course across the same questions.

Was there something in this world, that I was meant to become? Or, was it all random, all chaos. Just more unorganized happenstances which would continue toss me like a leaf on the wind, until the end of my days.

Perhaps, that would always be my life. For, it is only human, to strive and provide meanings at all. To try and find patterns, organization, to that which has none.

Brought here, doomed to die a soldier, or a man lost in a forest filled with poison: if I could ever escape, what would I want?

Did I even have an answer to that?

The darkness pressed in around me, like coils of winding scales. The pressure reached in, deep. For a time, I could swear I heard whispers, in the black. Voices that beckoned me from my solemn path forward.

But, forward I went.

My boots reached out, trusting the stone to be there before them. Again, and again, and again, until I finally emerged.

There I stood, on the threshold I'd once entered. Master-worked carvings of Gods and men, fires and tragedies.

All illuminated beneath the clear light of a foreign sky, filled with stars.

The storm had passed.

...

[Skill Granted - Blessing of Forgotten Gods]

To enter a place mortals should never go, and leave unscathed... This is a rare event, deserving of respect. Even from Gods.

Wisdom +5