I always felt that I was wasting time. There was something out there waiting for me, calling from the empty bus stops and dark corners. I never knew why I felt this way, trapped in a boring life, a slow runner in a hamster wheel unable to stop the ride. I was either scared or unlucky. Probably both. At some point, I began to believe that if I did not leave my cage, I would meet my end sooner than expected.

It weighed on me, this unprecedented burden of a life I was not ready to build. Most people are born oblivious to the true horror of existence. They stumble through shops and cafes on their way to repetition, and they age and die without feeling what I always felt. I was born in the wrong place at the wrong time, incapable of fighting for myself, feeling everything that grazes my thoughts.

I tried walking away from it. I thought that finding who I was meant to be would be as easy as changing my address from a town under the mountains to a town by the sea. But, the place I was walking to did not help me see the things I wanted to see, nor did it make me feel like I belonged. As I walked the streets at night, I wondered what was going on in people that made them so restless and hungry for something they did not understand.

I would run my hand over the heated stone walls and try to feel what the times were like before I got there. They would not speak to me and I would return again the next night to ask them. I was lost in my own pool of dull existence, where things did not happen and people did not inspire me. I was selfish and privileged to be so bored that I asked for things others took for granted.

There was a feeling that lingered inside, the kind that would tell you a story in pieces, fragmenting itself until you no longer knew it as a feeling but as a memory of one. It was there, it existed, but you would never know what it was meant to say, whether it was good or malicious, telling you to stay or run.

●

It first came to me in the middle of the night as a whisper in my ear. I couldn’t make out the words but they were clear enough to jolt me out of sleep. I sat upright in my bed, trying to understand if it was real or a dream. It seeded into my right ear and pulsated until I forgot what it sounded like, leaving only a memory that there was one at all.

I tried sleeping again but something in my brain refused to settle down, so I tossed and turned for nearly an hour before heading to the kitchen to make myself some camomile tea, which I hoped would help me keep my eyes closed. I had never suffered from insomnia, I had restless dreams and anxieties but nothing was strong enough to keep me awake through the night.

I sat at the table, hot cup in hand, staring at the city lights. A thunderstorm was coming, and the sky began to flicker with electricity over the sea. I kept looking at it as it came closer, this massive darkness full of deadly light sailing towards the shore, but it did not bother me, not as much as before.

The longer I stared at the flashes of light, the more familiar their shapes became. One by one they built castles before my eyes, people and places, anger and sadness, all in the thin lines of electricity that raged across the sky. The warm tea in my throat reminded me that I was awake, but still, it felt like it was not quite real, like I was adrift somewhere between dreams and reality.

Then, like a shot beside me, a light struck the roof of the building across the street, and the flash was so bright it nearly blinded me. I fell from my chair and crashed to the kitchen floor, my knees shaking.

Slowly and fearfully I picked myself back up, but when I looked back I saw that nothing had changed. There were no people looking for damage or fire, just a normal empty street. When I looked up, I saw the stars. The storm was gone, blown away as if in a flash, dissolving into nothingness. Everything was calm and peaceful.

My cup was on the floor next to a small puddle of tea, and I began to doubt my sanity. When morning broke, I went to the market and asked a few people if they remembered a storm, but they all shook their heads in confusion and said the night had been clear.

I let it go and scraped it out of my consciousness until it was just a half"remembered dream. It was still there, though very faint, a whisper of an idea that reminded me of something I had forgotten.

Not long after the storm, I was reminded that you can not sweep things under the rug for too long, they will eventually come back to you.

In the beginning, it was the little things, almost unimportant. There were patterns that repeated in unusual places, on buildings and cars, and they looked like nothing I had ever seen. Over time, they gained shape and became plainer and bolder, as if they had been placed there with purpose and care. They could have been words or symbols, but to my eyes, they were nothing but riddles.

The shadows were another matter. At first, I hardly noticed them, and when three people cast four shadows, I thought it was just a trick. However, the more I observed the movements on the rocks and the footsteps of the people, the more I realized that something was wrong with the world.

●

At some point, I began to record them. On the first day, I recorded five different ones, from a coffee that refused to spill to a seagull pulling a golden fish out of the sea.

Over the following weeks, I did the same, until the little notebook was full of inexplicable things, notes and sketches. I noticed that their number increased day by day, slowly but surely, and the more I looked for them, the more they appeared to me. I saw armies of tiny people fighting in an ally, a cat that only walked backwards, and a man with a rainbow under his hat.

On the last day of summer, I found myself at the harbor with a few friends from work, thinking that the festival and some company would help me distance myself from the things that haunted me. But instead, I wondered if everything I had done was a waste of time.

I could have spent weeks cataloguing the beginnings of my own madness. I wondered if that was what the insane thought about their actions. I did not want to answer that question.

Dozens of tents stood spread out in a long, unbroken line along the seashore. Some sold trinkets, others food and entertainment. People and children buzzed around them like flies, avoiding the small fire pits that lined the edge of the sea.

Musicians and firebreathers lit up the night, and paper dragons covered the sky like a swarm of colors. It was hard not to enjoy the night.

As my friends made their way to the pastry tent, a strange figure caught my eye. A person, to all appearances, cloaked and slightly stooped, came out of the sea, untouched by water or fire. It moved as if it had no feet, but glided across the ground and disappeared near the last of the tents.

I followed it. I could not see where it was going, and I didn't want to pry, but as soon as I got closer, I heard someone calling my name.

"Do not be a stranger," said a woman sitting at a round table covered with blue velvet. "Come, sit down."

"I'm sorry," I said, peeking through the entrance. "I thought I saw something. I didn't mean to bother you."

"Yes, I know. So sit down."

She pulled out a deck of cards, unlike any I'd seen before. The pictures on them were alive, giving out a faint glow of gold particles turning to sparks in her hands. She put three of them on the table and flipped over the first in line.

"A fortune reading?"

"Your past, your present and your future," she ran her hand over the cards and they responded to her. "You’ve been lost your whole life. Locked in, unable to step out. The card showed a tiger running against the bars of a golden cage. The tiger was angry, but had no teeth, and its roar degraded into nothing." You're on a quest for something new. You're equally fearful and curious about what is to come. There is something you know, something that troubles you. Something you see." The middle card shows a candle burning in the wind, sometimes on the verge of dying, yet continuing to burn.

"And the future?" I asked after she had fallen silent.

She looked at the card and instead of showing it, she took it to herself and hid it back in the pile as if it was about to bite. Her face darkened and she stood up, stumbled to the door and looked out. She was afraid of something, that much was clear.

"Go now. I can not read your fortune. Do not think anything of this."

"What did you see?" I insisted. The horror that shook the woman was no trifle. Her hands trembled under her long sleeves, and I was no longer welcome.

"Go away. Go at once. And do not trust them. They are not what they say."

"Who?" I asked, feeling a shiver creep up my spine.

She took my arm and pulled me out of the tent with great strength. I ran. My heart was beating up to my throat and I pretended that nothing had happened when my friends found me and offered me food. I wished I was like them and enjoyed the simplest things. I had to pretend that my future did not consist of nightmares. But those were just the unspoken words of a woman who makes her living from telling lies.

The next day I returned to the beach. There was nothing left of the previous night, only a few forgotten paper kites and holes in the sand where the tents had been. The spell of the fire was completely broken.

I sat down on the wall above the beach, near where I thought the fortune teller was. I tried to dispel the uneasy feeling that had crept into my bones, now even in daylight. The wind came up from the sea, cold and relentless, but I stayed there, hour after hour as if waiting for something to give me an answer.

Then I saw it again, the cloaked figure that had risen from the sea the night before. It detached itself from the wall directly below me and slowly glided back to where it had come from. I heard it hum a tune and leave no footprints in the sand.

The blood froze in my veins. I held my breath as it slowly grew larger and approached the water. First, it was as a child, then it was a giant.

"Do not be afraid of it." said a voice behind me. I turned around and spotted a man in a fine black suit standing against the wall not far from me. The wind did not let me hear him approach, and I had no voice to answer. "It's gone. Look. The sea is its home and there it will rest until they light the beach with fire again."

The giant slowly dissolved into the thin morning mist, leaving no trace that it was ever there.

"You saw it too?" I whispered, pointing to the open water.

He nodded, though I did not think he heard me.

"Shadows without anchors, birds flying without feathers, etchings on the walls that come and go as if projected on the stone." His voice became a low sound. "All this is strange and alien around us."

He came closer and sat on the other side of the wall, with his back to the sea. He did not seem to be older than me, nor did he show any sign of delusion. Yet I knew very well that I had no reason to trust him.

"What are they?" I asked, hoping for an explanation.

"It is a gift. It is bestowed upon a very small number of people, once in many, many years. It is not unlike the second sight with which one can see into places that exist parallel to us. Whole worlds with unimaginable things crossing their paths with ours and connecting the universe. What a joy it is to find another one."

"None of this sounds right. I am sorry, I just do not feel like I can believe it all ...yet."

"Of course, you don’t. You're afraid," he said calmly as if he could count all my worries on one hand. "And there' is nothing wrong with that. Fear, after all, is the most natural reaction to the unknown."

I wanted to say something, but I lost the thread of thought for a moment. I did not know whether to ask for more or just flee. I felt like this was a small introduction to something much bigger, and if I let it in, it would become me. I was cold in the sun, facing something I dared not understand. I prepared to turn and walk away, but the stranger stood up first.

"I suggest you think about it. Seek me out at the Folher Hotel. Ask for Fler Lonmar." he nodded and disappeared down one of the narrow alleys leading uphill. I was left alone again with the thoughts I feared most.

I hesitated for a few minutes and then turned to follow him. The alley he turned into was a one-way street that ended with a door to a building I had never noticed before.

It looked old, as old as the ancient city walls, and it had everything that made a sacred place, from the small decorations on the walls to the intense smell of incense that emanated from it. This strange temple called out to me more than anything else that day, and like a moth to the flame, I came closer to touch its walls and see what made it so inviting.

The interior looked much bigger than I had imagined.

The ceiling was covered in small patterns, not unlike those I had seen outside, and the floor was of smooth stone, polished and almost slippery from use. The windows were small and close to the ceiling, and the light that came through broke on the opposite wall and fell towards the center.

There stood five statues of perfect white marble, two on each side of the door, one in the middle. They were crafted with such care and precision that it looked as if they were not made of stone, but petrified. They were twice as tall as they would have been as humans, and at their feet were wreaths of flowers, all still quite fresh.

I knew many things about the ancient myths, the stories of gods and demigods I had read so often, but these statues were dedicated to those I knew nothing about. There were no names, no distinctions, just a symbol engraved on their foreheads and covered in gold.

The closer I looked at them, the more I admired the way they were made, the details of their clothing, the strands of their hair and the lines of their faces. It was the kind of work that only the great masters were capable of, and yet it stood in an almost forgotten place. Their vivid postures made me feel small and insignificant, a speck of dust on their brow.

"I have never seen you here before," said a young woman appearing from behind one of the statues. I was far too absorbed in my own thoughts to notice her, and I was convinced I was alone. She lit some dying candles on the small altar and carefully put them back in their place. " What brings you here?

"I cannot say. I was just curious, I guess." I lied, not daring to mention I was following a stranger who seemed to have already disappeared.

She nodded and waved the small burning stick in the air until the fire was out.

"It's a good thing you did. After a long while, I can tell a great story to a new face. If you want to hear it?"

"About them?" I asked, wondering if she was a keeper or a priestess.

"Yes.

"Sure," I replied, overcome by a new kind of excitement.

"My name is Ferya," she said and shook my hand.

She straightened the fallen flowers and looked at the roof " This city is ancient," she said. "It used to be twice as big as it is now and stretched all the way to the lighthouse on Fisherman’s Island. It was prosperous and peaceful, a beloved place for artists and traders alike.

One day a storm came, so great and violent that the ground shook and the sea rose, swallowing the city level by level and dividing it in two. To this day, the sunken city has remained almost intact. It is fascinating how the old times bring forth the new, and especially how parts of things can live on after a catastrophe and take on a new form. I think people can do that too, but only the strong, because most would never find an appropriate use for their broken pieces.

Then, she led me to the first of the statues, a woman with a long, intertwined braid not unlike her own. "This is Irnemoni," she said "The huntress and storyteller. That's Fiarester, the wise and cunning one," she pointed to the male statue next to it. "Over here is Jurihalei, the righteous, and this is Krenivisti, the warrior. And that," she went over to the last one "Is Goamerderi, the dreamer."

"Who are they?" The incense intoxicated my senses and I could almost see them moving above me. With a blink or a smile, they almost came alive. "Are they gods?"

"No more than you or I. Though the world was very different in their time and gods walked freely among men and were revered as such. There was no distance between them, and their truth was known and not interpreted by priests. This temple, this ground on which we stand, is sacred. It is their place, and their very being will live and die with it."

"But, who made them? They look more real than most people." I laughed at the thought, but in a way it was true. Even their eyes were a dazzling color. But then I noticed that Goamerderi's eyes didn't glow. They were missing. She had cracks on her arms, and pieces of her golden hair had broken off. I didn't see her smile.

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"Nobody knows. Some say it was the son of a local stonemason who was so loved by the Muses that they gave him endless inspiration to bring the stone to life. Others say that these stones were never made by man but were only found here and the temple was built around them. Perhaps even the city itself.

"I've never seen such beauty. It is hard to believe that it's so hidden in plain sight."

Ferya sighed and picked up a falling wreath from Goamerderi's statue. "I don't think she's hidden on purpose. People change, but places like this don't. They just get swallowed up, like a vine growing over a house. It just gets harder to notice them. The people who come here understand the value of this place and know it needs to be protected. I imagine that these statues wouldn't find a proper place in a museum, segregated and alone. They would only weep and decay like mortals.

I knew she was right. The emotions they evoked made me feel a kind of peace I had not found in a long time. The five of them, despite their intimidating postures, offered me peace and even safety. The fear faded, if only for a moment, but I knew I could not stay there forever.

●

Another night came. I was too tired not to fall asleep as soon as I lay down. Thoughts swirled, but sleep soon took over. Then, sometime deep in the night, I heard a knock at my door.

I tried to ignore it at first, thinking it was a drunk neighbor leaving his apartment, but it repeated itself several times and grew stronger. Finally, I got to the door and staggered half asleep.

There was no one there, just an empty, dark hallway.

I was at the foot of my bed when I heard it again, much louder and closer to a dull thud that shook the pictures on my wall. Someone or something desperately wanted me to open up.

I hesitated for a moment, frightened of the elusive visitor in the night, and in the strangest of cases whether this was just another of my uncanny encounters. That was the thought I seemed to dread more than a serial killer in the building.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife, the biggest one I had, and tiptoed to the door, which I opened just slightly. Again there was nothing, only darkness and silence.

Someone was playing a sick game, I thought and decided to turn on all the lights in the hallway. Since the building had only half a dozen apartments and I lived on the last floor, there really was not much room to hide.

I waited by the stairs and called the elevator a few times, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. As I walked back to my apartment, still holding the knife, I heard something. It was coming from my neighbor's apartment.

It was stretched, murmuring in pieces, some louder, some barely audible, but a voice nonetheless. The sudden change between a screech and a roar suggested there was more of them in there, but the words came in circles, like a chant.

I knocked softly on the door, still unsure if my imagination was going crazy again and I did not want to disturb the old lady in the middle of the night. I knocked again, and instead of waiting, I turned back to the door, regretting my own actions.

"Hello, is anyone there?" said the voice behind me.

"Mrs Madice, sorry to disturb you so late." I turned and said. "I was just checking to see if you were all right. Someone knocked on my door. I just can’t seem to figure out who it was." I hid my knife in the pocket of my robe but kept the handle in my hand in case the voice had a body attached to it.

"Then you’d better come in, my dear." she gestured with her hand. "There are dangerous people these days. If this happens again, we'll get help." She seemed genuinely concerned, mainly because I had no shoes.

Strangely, I thought her flat looked exactly like mine, but it felt much more like home, with handmade blankets and colourful pillows everywhere. The only thing I noticed was that there were no pictures of her or her family. Just empty frames hung on the wall, devoid of any memories.

"Here, this will warm you up," she served me hot cocoa and turned to look for some cookies.

"Who thinks it's funny to knock on the door like that?" She winced as the light in the kitchen behind her suddenly went out. "Not again. Three times this had happened today, and I just can't get it fixed."

"I'll fix it for you," I said, but as my eyes adjusted to the darkness in the background, I saw it. Behind her back, with a hand on her shoulder, was a shadow as tall as the ceiling. It was barely visible, but the silhouette was unmistakably human. Jumping back, I almost spilt the cocoa. "Run.", I said, "Get away from it."

She looked back at the same instant but made another puzzled face.

"What's that, dear?"

"Don't you see it? The shadow. Right there. Right there behind you." I pressed myself against the wall and wanted to turn on another light, but like in a bad dream, I couldn't find a switch.

"What shadow? There's nothing there. Calm down, it's just the darkness." She went to the pantry and turned on the bright white light. In a split second, the shadow was gone.

Finally, I could breathe again. "It was holding onto your shoulder. It was right behind you," I said, propping myself up on my knees. "Before I knocked on your door, I heard something, someone talking from in here."

"I didn't hear anything. I'm very sorry about that. I’m slightly deaf in one ear, though." She bent down to help me. "You look dreadful, dear. You should lie down."

"No, I should go," I said, finally remembering that my cup of odd things for the day might have overflown and that the only answers could reside in a downtown hotel. "Please, do me a favour," I said before I left, "Lock your door and leave the lights on. Please."

"All right. If it’s going to make you feel better."

●

"I’m looking for Fler Lon...something. Ah, what was it? Lonar? Fler Lonmar, yeah, that's the one. Where can I find him?" I asked the concierge, who gave me a daring, doubtful look, but after straightening his glasses, he pointed me to the sign above the door on the right. "Mr Lonmar is expecting you.”

It was a hotel bar. One that had maintained its perfect composition for almost a century, operating only at night. The Hotel Folher was the jewel of the old town that I never thought I would see myself.

He was sitting in one of the leather booths reading an issue of what seemed to be a very old newspaper. The closer I got, the better I could make out the letters on the page.

"Death on the Third Hill."

"Just in time," he said, pointing to the seat on the other side.

"I’m sorry to come at this hour, but-" I said trying to justify my intrusion.

"I know. I was expecting you."

"You knew I would be here tonight? Is that what you are trying to say?" I raised my voice and earned a few looks from drunken guests. I must have looked like a dreadful creature having barely caught the first set of clothes I saw hanging on the chair. Fohler's night lounge was an unseemly place for me.

"In short. Yes."

"I saw something tonight. I saw-"

"I know. I know what you saw. And I’m sorry to tell you that you can't go back." He spread the newspaper on the table and pointed to an article that took up a full page. In the corner was a picture. A lovely old lady named Marila Hillety. My neighbor.

I skimmed the words as fast as I could, and each sounded more worrisome than the last. In the end, it brought tears to my eyes, even though I knew it was only a few minutes after my conversation with her. "This can't be true," I finally said. She's alive and well. I told her to lock the door. I told her to ... leave the lights on," a wave of cold sweat took over me. And another followed. "That simply cannot be true.”

"She died a long time ago. She was fighting off an intruder and cracked her head in the kitchen. That is the only truth.”

"But but I-" I stammered, putting my hand over my mouth. The newspaper was dated eighteen years in the past. Her death had occurred on that very day. And since I had moved into the building on Third Hill, I was alone on my floor.

"I wish there was a less painful way for you to understand, but I'm afraid there is no truth without a little pain and suffering." Fler waved to the waiter, who promptly placed two glasses of brandy on our table. "Drink. It helps. But always in moderation." He smiled and took a small sip.

I nearly swallowed the glass along with the brandy. The confusion was greater than anything else, and it was overwhelming my nerves. I struggled to believe that it was another trick, that as soon as I got back home I would find my friend at the window reading old poetry like I had seen her do so many times before. She would wave from the window and I would wave back.

But then I remembered why I had come to the hotel in the first place.

As soon as I recaptured my racing thoughts, I was ready to ask more questions, but before I could even say anything, a group of three people cut through the bar like ghosts and landed right in our booth.

One of them was Ferya, whom I had met at the temple. The other two were Ateel and Ikano, my friends from work who had taken me to the fire festival. I did not know them well, but they seemed to know both Ferya and Fler very well. I was the outsider, the new character in their story.

Seeing all four of them there made me realize how unusual they were, not just their names, but their clothes, and the way they sat, moved and spoke. Every part of them was almost tailored to be more than just a person you'd see on the street, and yet it was not enough to make you look twice when you saw them there.

"Are you a part of this, too?", I asked Ferya.

She nodded without making a sound. In the back of my mind, I knew that something dangerous was waiting for me on the journey they wanted me to take, but I stifled that thought and replaced it with my other fear of being trapped all over again.

"I know this might be a bit difficult for you," Ikano said.

"This is not an ambush.", Ateel said. "I promise."

"Wait a minute. You’re all like me? Do we all see the same crazy things? Is that it? Is that what's going on here?"

"Yes." said Ferya "We are."

I pinched my thigh to make sure I was not dreaming. This could not have been a coincidence. I was the one who had come to them, I was the one who had moved there. It made no sense that they shared my curse.

"And the temple? Does it have anything to do with it, too?"

"It's a sacred place," Ikano said without hesitation. "The world forgot about it just before it forgot how to see the truth, and to be at peace with itself. We are nothing but an echo of something infinite, and we do not forget."

I slumped back in my seat. I wanted to believe what they were saying. I wanted it all to be real. But even after what I had seen, it still seemed like fiction. They could be as troubled as I was.

"So what now? Are you going to tell me where this whole thing leads to?" Their faces were calm, unbothered by what I was saying. It was as if they could anticipate my every word and action. Despite my cynicism and restraint, they were the ones who held power over me.

"There is something bigger than all of us," Fler said, "something we need to protect," and his eyes gleamed with an unnatural light. A sudden numbness gripped my limbs and I struggled to move. Some strange energy surrounded me.

"What?", I said faintly, knowing full well how ignorant I sounded. I did not care.

"We have been waiting for you to join us again for so long. Time is pain when you spend it waiting. You must know that or you would not have come.

A shiver ran down my spine. The possibilities were endless. If I accepted their words, I would also have to call myself gullible and naive. People tend to accept fantasy instead of facts, simply because it keeps them from thinking and reasoning too much. I wanted the truth, and yet my mind wanted to believe in all the other wonderful possibilities.

"Then what’s the point of all this? What’s the point of us?

"There is a balance that must be maintained," Ikano said.

"Of what?" I laughed at the thought, trying to mask the horror that was rising. "The world?"

"Not the world, not really." Ferya continued, keeping her gaze up. "What we call the world is made up of people. And people are at each other's throats for power and money. When they finally think they have found peace, it does not last and they always return to the old path. Our burden is different. It is about the balance of all things.

"What happens when this balance is upset?

"Consequences. Maybe not always immediate, but certainly inevitable. If a wandering shadow attaches itself to someone, they will not know or even assume it was there, but over time their life will go off the rails and their mind will deteriorate, causing them to behave irrationally. And the shadow, will not leave them even in death. It is like a festering wound that infects other things, spreads to other worlds and changes them. It is our duty to make sure that nothing and no one goes too far astray. It is what we’ve always done."

"We alone are not enough," Ateel added. "The power is fading. The borders between the worlds have become so thin they are but a veil. And once it is gone, nothing will stand in the way of absolute chaos. We must be as one. You are our only hope."

"Sounds like a job offer," I said sarcastically, still in limbo between rejection and acceptance. "I do not think I am qualified for that."

"It's not a job. It's everything." Fler replied in a serious tone. His expression darkened, and I could finally see how serious they were about their cause. "You can say no today, next month, or five years from now, but there will come a day when what you have becomes too strong, and the things you see will see you back. You will not want to be alone when that happens. You will not stand a chance against them."

"I did not mean for this to happen, damn it!", I growled. I could not help but resort to anger. I felt the weight of my own mistakes, and they would not let me change my mind. The words they spoke reminded me of those moments when reality played with my eyes. That they were now spoken by someone else struck a different chord, resonating in an ever-louder tone.

"No one did. No one asked to be born poor, sick or in this day and age. You can not change that. It is not my intention to force you, but this is your destiny.

"Destiny", I smirked, "I decide what it is. None of this makes any sense. It's madness. I have never seen you before and you tell me there are hidden worlds everywhere. Please, gather your marbles.

They were silent for a moment. Their eyes were on me and I was not sure my legs could carry me out the door. It was too much to process, too much to argue without questioning the fundamentals of reality. I had the decision to make: stay or flee.

"Then let us lead you. Let us show you.", Ateel said and tilted his head towards me. I did not think he had any patience left with me.

"Show me what?" My eyelids were heavy and the light began to fade in the room. I pushed the empty glass away and ignored his warning. Things began to move slower, my thoughts stretched to infinity and nothing coherent came back. I took one last look at them as their faces faded into nothingness.

"Who you really are." Ateel's voice was the last thing I heard.

●

I do not remember walking. I felt the wind in my face, more fiercely than ever. The sea was loud, and the sky darkened again under the oncoming storm. It felt like a change or a certain end.

The floor of the temple was illuminated by the light of candles. Hundreds of them surrounded the statues like a small forest of wax and fire. A path had been cleared between the two rows, leading directly to the fifth statue.

Goamerderi rose above me and demanded worship. Her empty eyes looked down at me, and for the first time, I could see her smile. Ikano took the wreath from under her statue and placed it around my neck. The incense took hold of me again, and this time it smelled of something otherworldly.

Thin mist filled the room all the way to the roof until I could see the colors merging around me and golden sparrows gathering around my head.

Each of my companions stood under a statue of their own, and I saw how similar they were. I should have realized it earlier. Everything they told me began to coalesce into a story I did not want to hear. They were more than they said, and I finally understood how beautiful it all was. If they were gods, then I was one of them too.

I liked the idea of power flowing through my veins. I anticipated the feeling of true freedom with every breath I took. I did not have to be afraid anymore. I could just be. I finally found a home. I did not care about the price or the struggle ahead. I did not care that I was suddenly consumed with vanity.

They gathered around me and held my shoulders as I knelt before my likeness. I wondered what it took to become a god. Was it blood or just a sign of faith? I waited for them to act and show me the way.

The glimmer of a knife in Fler's hand approached me, and the blood warmed my face as he carved a symbol into my forehead. It hurt, but I made no sound. My teeth rattled, and my shoulders grew heavier under their hands.

Ferya spoke behind me in a language I had never heard before. Her voice was deep, and she made the stone tremble.

I understood every word.

"We have brought you a life so that you may live. A sacrifice, and a vessel. May the old gods rule again. May the world tremble under your power. Goamerderi. O bright one, we welcome you back."

Something was terribly wrong. If my thoughts had been clearer, I would have realized it sooner, but the story was finally over, and I no longer wanted to be a part of it. I tried to get up, but they would not let go of me. The blood running down my face was no longer the blood of a goddess, but that of a sacrificial lamb.

I tried to scream, but no sound came out of my mouth. My throat was slit, and I could only speak the language of blood. I fell to the ground and propped my head on the wreath of flowers.

I watched as they fed her, the marble goddess, one of five, with my blood. They bathed her in it until she came to life more beautiful than ever.

They left me there to take her place, trapped in stone. It was my turn to cry and watch the world around me change and grow old as I decayed, unable to breathe the sea air or tell anyone that I too was once alive.

I could see everything, the hidden things that crawled in the corners and the foul beasts that passed by the door of the temple. Sometimes a soul would come by and lay flowers at my feet. They admired me like a mysterious wonder and then left, never to return.

Then time took my eyes, turned them to stone, and forced me to see only the shadow, no longer the light. I, too, was finally forgotten.