The Temple of Forgotten Light - Part 2

The air was cold and heavy as Galen and Morrigan stepped deeper into the sanctum. Each footfall echoed faintly, swallowed by the oppressive silence around them. Galen glanced at the walls, their surfaces etched with ancient symbols that seemed to pulse faintly with life. A shiver ran down his spine, though he wasn't sure if it was from the chill in the air or the unnatural energy of the place.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Galen asked, his voice low. It wasn't like him to break the silence in a place like this, but the tension had grown too thick to ignore.

Morrigan, walking a step ahead of him, didn't turn around. "A map," she replied. "A key of sorts. It's hidden within these chambers, and it will guide us to the Heart of Moonnight."

Galen raised an eyebrow. "A map? Right."

Morrigan glanced back at him. "The sanctum does not yield its treasures to just anyone," she said coolly. "It tests those who seek them. Be prepared."

Before Galen could reply, they entered a new chamber. The air here was even colder. The room stretched high above them, its domed ceiling filled with faded paintings of battles and knights. At the center stood an ornate pedestal, its surface glowing faintly green, like the rest of the sanctum.

As they approached, a voice rumbled from the shadows, deep, carrying a hint of mockery. "What do you seek here, intruders?"

Galen froze. His hand instinctively went to his side, even though he knew no weapon would help him against whatever this was.

Morrigan stepped forward, her posture returning again to its usual presence. "We seek passage. Grant us what we require and stand aside."

The voice chuckled, low and menacing. "Passage? You do not command me, little queen. Morrigan is strong. She would not be held back by the tricks of this sanctum. You… are a shadow of her."

The words cut through the room like a blade. Morrigan's shoulders stiffened, but her posture didn't change. "You will let us through," she demanded, her tone as commanding as ever.

"You are not her," the voice retorted, its tone turning sharp. "Morrigan was power incarnate. You reek of desperation. Or have you forgotten?"

The room seemed to darken with each word, the glow of the pedestal dimming slightly. Galen glanced at Morrigan, unsure if he should intervene or keep quiet.

Morrigan hesitated, just for a moment, but it was enough for Galen to notice. She straightened, her gaze fixed on the shadows from where the voice emerged. "You speak as though you know me," she said, her voice steady now. "Yet you linger here, bound to this place, while I still walk the world. Who is truly a shadow?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Then the voice replied, softer now but no less chilling. "Then tell me know you are, little queen. Or be consumed."

The ground beneath them began to tremble, the symbols on the walls flaring with sudden light. Galen tightened his stance, his mind racing as he prepared for whatever was coming.

A thin, barely visible smoke filled the air, slowly rising from an unknown source in the floor. Pictures drawn with glowing lights appeared all around them on the walls of the chamber. Galen couldn't make out a coherent meaning from the images. People, relics and weapons lay over the stone in a mosaic, showcasing scenes of battles, betrayals, deaths.

Galen glanced at Morrigan. She was examining the shapes with narrowed focus. Her eyes darted around the room, without a hint of emotion on her face.

"I'm guessing we are not here for a show," said Galen, sharply exhaling as he tried to piece together what their current test was. Many of the people depicted wore armor adorned with a crescent moon on their chest. Some were fighting, others bowing, and some turned their backs to them. The images were still, yet the flickering of their light made them seem alive.

"They are tales of my past." Her voice was low, with a touch of anger giving it an edge. She stepped to a person with wings spreading from their back, laying on the ground. "And my present."

Galen examined the shapes more carefully with a new perspective. The person with the wings, who must have been Morrigan, appeared multiple times on the wall. There was the one lying on the ground. Another sat on a chair. A throne maybe? And the last stood with a commanding presence, her hands holding a sword out confidently.

He immediately recognized it as her Morrigan, commanding him to fight minutes after being resurrected in an unknown world. He turned towards her, and inhaled to call out his finding, but as he did a burning sensation traveled through his throat, like he was inhaling hot ash. The irritation caused him to cough violently.

Morrigan's gaze snapped to him, with visible irritation. He opened her mouth to bark something at him. But she didn't, instead her eyes followed the faint trails of smoke with suspicion.

"You were always so fond of the scent of Cindermoon Blossoms," echoed the voice from the shadows. "Ah, how often you indulged yourself with luring mortals to your tent, incenses of Cindermoon filling the night with an almost translucent smoke. You watched them, as their lungs slowly burnt to ash."

The burning sensation now reached Galen's lungs, the coughing so overwhelming that it forced him to his knees. He now realized it was not mere sensation. He was really burning up.

He looked at Morrigan, unable to speak. Will she save him? Or is he just an other mortal in her tent?

She began walking towards him, her movement devoid of any urgency. Is it possible that she'll use this opportunity to get rid of him? He wasn't who she was expecting after all.

Morrigan stopped next to him. Galen felt her cold fingers on his cheeks, her fingers felt as hard as bones.

"You may only die when I'll allow it."

The burning inside him lightened. Morrigan lifted her hands off his face, as Galen endured one last violent set of coughs, that got rid of some smoke from his lungs.

"Thank you," he manages to say. He wiped some spit away from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. "You have some strange fetishes."

"I don't need to tell you that my power is at its end." She didn't show signs of their earlier struggle with the rotating disks, but it was still vivid in Galen's mind how exhausted she looked afterwards. "Let's get done with this trial quickly. The burning will be worse as time goes on." She turned around, examining the shapes on the wall once more.

"So, I was cut off by your favorite pastime earlier," he managed to say, catching his breath. He still felt his throat stinging, the hot ash moving slowly towards his lungs. He was also surprised by the edge his voice took. After getting a first hand experience of her killing methods, he couldn't help but see her as a predator. And people like him, mortals, were her favorite snack. "But I've found the image of your present." He pointed at the winged figure holding the sword.

Morrigan glanced back at the wall. "That's not my present. It's my past." Her voice was low, quiet. "I once commanded a mighty army to take what I thought to be rightfully mine." She raised her arms high, a faint emerald glow illuminating her fingertips. The shapes on the walls began moving, slowly at first, accelerating to higher speeds, to the point where the shapes were only streaks of lights in Galen's eyes.

When the images were finally rearranged, the scene next to Galen shifted. The Morrigan holding the sword was not among a jumble of other shapes anymore, but in the middle of a battle. Soldiers bearing the crescent moon charged around her at an enemy force outnumbering them. Morrigan's forces carried swords burning with fire, their eyes glowed ominously under their helmets.

"Is this what you want," called out Morrigan to the voice in the shadow. "For me to retell the tale of my fall?"

"A goddess of war, keeping her army alive even against greater odds," the voice bellowed. "And now, you struggle to keep even your one knight alive, from the poison you have created."

Galen looked over Morrigan. Was she really this powerful once? What could have changed since? He witnessed her posture change, take on something Galen couldn't really place. Could it have been sorrow?

"Witness your goddess, young Galen Voss," the voice continued. "Leadership is earned through strength and loyalty. She has lost her strength. So why does she still have your loyalty?"

Galen kept staring at Morrigan. Images of their few days together flashed through his mind. Morrigan commanding him to fight for her, despite him knowing nothing. The ambush, where he had to almost beg her to lend him power to keep them alive. The meeting with Lord Emory, where he had to get Ana out of a tough situation.

Morrigan returned her gaze, most likely thinking over the same event. So this was not only a test for her. But a test for him, if he's loyal enough to stay by her, even after what he's about to hear.