The narrow collapsed tunnels opened up into a corridor. Plants had found their way through the holes in the roof and covered the once beautifully ornamented walls. The air was thick but easier to breathe now that they’ve passed through the tunnels. Their torch fire grew bigger and revealed the golden remnants around them. This hall used to be a sight of magnificence. Holes in the ceiling would allow daylight to come in and mirrors would bounce it around in a perfectly measured way. All the statues, all the ornaments, the mirrors and most of the gold on the walls had been robbed leaving the place empty, dusty and dark. It had been at least 40 years that Borus had seen this place, although he hadn’t aged a day, this temple surely had. Ninae was admiring the walls with the glimmer of adventure in her eyes, feeling the gold with her fingertips.
‘So, how did you know about this place?’ Ninae asked. She had never seen how this place used to be, it was destroyed long before she was born. But he couldn’t tell her about his own connection to it, the things that took place here, the things he was part of. She must never know his real age or soon enough she would have been able to stitch the pieces together and found out the truth.
‘My grandparents helped build it, it used to be beautiful, so I heard.’ Borus answered while walking ahead. He was thinking about the last time he was here. He had given his family heirloomed ax to a guardian monk, for safekeeping, but also to keep this place safe from intruders. After he heard that the temple had been pillaged, leaving no survivors, he never took the time to return. A rumbling sound of something crumbling down was heard from a distance, echoing through the chambers and tunnels.
‘Oh no…’ Borus said worrisome and slowed down his walking pace. The echo faded out making room for silence, but for the sound of the flickering torches and their own breathing.
‘What? What is it?’ Ninae said anxiously upon her breath, reaching for her sword.