Into The Holy Grounds

The crimson forest harbored a statue of the goddess, leading Zerin to guess that this was where the goddess's altar was held. The statue towered over the people and the nearby structures, reaching an impressive fifty feet. It stood with confidence, her body draped in minimal clothing that accentuated her depicted graceful form. Delicate, fabric clung to her figure, skillfully carved to suggest motion, as if caught in a gentle breeze.

Her face, though defaced, had an aura that was unmistakable. This blank visage invited the onlookers to bow before the statue; they knew it was their god. Its craftmanship was perfect in every instance of the word.

The goddess's hands are prominently displayed, each adorned with six elegant digits instead of the usual five, setting herself apart from man. Her fingers are intricately carved, with each nail and joint defined. A spare hand was raised to the sky, coincidentally resting just under the crimson moon, as if the goddess were bearing the very weight of the moon. Her hair flowed down her back, stopping just at her waist, as she tilted her head up to the sky, almost as if she was ignoring her people below.

Zerin felt Wisteria let go of his hand. As her hand slipped from his grasp, he continued to step forth.

"Zerin..."

She looked up at the towering statue. Her eyes darted back down quickly to Zerin; she was visibly shaken.

"I'll be right back..."

He spoke calmly as he walked further into the holy grounds.

Wisteria's voice trailed off in the distance as Zerin continued walking forward. He finally arrived at his destination, he finally could finally fulfill his role, it all led up to this moment.

"But..."

He drifted past the people who had fallen to their knees, paying their respects to their god. Even the Old man as well as Boris, managed to pay their respects, despite their substained injuries.

The Priest stood calmly as usual, next to the statue surveying the people.

"Pay your own respects in your own way, boy."

He nodded, his eyes settling on the Priest. Zerin was never the type of person to bow before anyone, so the only way he thought he could pay his respects was by bringing the goddess back to the land and its people.

"Is that where the altar is held?"

Zerin questioned the Priest, clarifying the importance of his sudden allure to the structure.

"Indeed... That structure harbors the altar. Do you need me to assist you?"

"I'll take him with me..."

The plump slug wriggled out of the Priest's flesh. Its tiny eyes gleamed with an almost mischievous glint, while its tail wagged like a dog.

"Not you..."

Zerin said dismissively.

The slug whimpered slightly before it fled back into the Priest's flesh.

"I'll have him guard the entrance of the temple..."

"Very well... Take your time, we will be expecting your return."

-

The temple was forged from white marble, now weathered and stained by the crimson rain. It bore resemblance with the other structures surrounding it, standing out due to its sheer size and its peculiar placement aligning it with the moon.

Following Zerin as he climbed to the top of the temple was the lizard. Trailing behind every step. Finally reaching the entrance of the temple. He turned around and felt a gust of wind brush against him, bringing a refreshing air that had been lacking during his time spent in the castle. It was fresh, devoid of the coppery-metallic scent that was so common in this land. Casting a gaze down to the people below, he exhaled deeply; his burden was soon to be lifted from his shoulders.

He turned away from the people towards the lizard, which had now nestled beside the entrance of the temple. The lizard has been by his side for a long time know, would it be messed up for him to say that he is sad that this creature would return to its normal self? Zerin looked down at the eerie creature. Its hair has grown much longer, reaching well past its chin.

"Where is your treasure?"

He commented on the creature's peculiar behavior. After wrestling for control over the sheathe Zerin was surprised the creature was able to part ways with it. But the lizard cared very little for discussion, the slug would give better conversation than the lizard. The lizard seemed more like a drone most of the time, having very little personality.

"Alright then..."

Walking past the creature he stepped into the temple. Shockingly he wasn't greeted with utter darkness, within the temple there was moss that illuminated the temple interior dimly. Once he was surrounded by the darkness of the temple, he could see the shining moss taking a scarlet color, with pinkish purple undertones.

As he explored the inner workings of the temple, he avoided the still water resting a few steps down as it pooled about knee length. Zerin chose to navigate along the drier path, being drawn by the glowing moss pathing towards a hallway where it dominated. The bioluminescent moss casted a warm glow onto him as moisture drips from the ceiling periodically.

Underneath the moss the walls that wept moisture held hieroglyphs. Examining further, he shifted the glowing moss aside. The moss seemingly came to life, shining in a brighter vibrance, the sudden brightness assaulted his eyes.

"Damn it!"

He shielded his eyes as afterimages of bright colors imprinted itself into his very mind. He wiped his eyes that watered from the sudden exposure to bright light, looking back at the wall it revealed a hieroglyph.

It was the goddess, the pictograph showed her tearing a piece of herself then she placed it upon the soil, like a seed. Intrigued, shifted the moss further as it reacted to his touch shining a warmer crimson glow, but this time he closed his eyes shielding himself from its brightness. The next pictured showed a man with a head of a wolf tending to the planted seed, watering it and caring for it. Right beside this image it showed the death of the goddess. The notion of a clash was certain, but what she clashed with was impossible to perceive as it was scratched off the marble walls.

Closing his eyes he grabbed the moss and tore it completely off the wall. Opening his eyes, it confirmed his suspicions these hieroglyphs depicted the history of these lands.

It showed how man seized the [Crimson Needle] from the goddess's dead body. Her size was massive compared to the people. Zerin now understood why it was called a needle, because the goddess must have wielded it as such, a tool to weave the threads of blood, just like how Zerin is responsible for such a task. But the people did what humans were good at, they used the needle to as a token of power, forming a monarchy. The monarchy passed on the needle, down the generations until a sudden darkness, a shadow that descended upon the people.

Whisking through the remnants of the lands, the man with the head of a wolf returned back to the soil after a long period, for the harvest. The depicted 'harvest' caused Zerin to stumble back in surprise.

'What?'

He couldn't accept this, he continued down the path, skimming through the hieroglyphs at a much quicker pace. The hieroglyphs predicted everything that happened until now, from Zerin arriving at the castle to him claiming a 'serpent crown'. It continued further showing the wolf man, much older and maimed, forced to depart from the castle. Zerin spared no time to consider the implications as he glanced at the next picture. The next picture instilled fear into his heart, showing the Leviathan standing tall over the temple, looking down at the people. They were playing into the hands of fate the entire time, not straying from the path one bit.

He turned from the altar but halted as he felt a rumbling occur from the depths of the structure. The structures crumbled as if it was enduring an earth-shattering seismic event. Stumbling to gain his balance Zerin knew what was occurring and the deafening voice that chilled the air confirmed it, making it much more real.

"Fatherrr..."