Chapter Text
The shrine sat in a hollow, some distance away from town. The hollow was edged by cliffs on three sides and a massive rock on the fourth. The only entrances were two spaces, one on either side of the rock, connected to the same path through the hollow. A spring in the rocks above poured water down the cliffs at the back of the hollow, forming a stream that moved through the large rock wall, under an arch. The hollow was filled with the white noise of rushing water, drowning out one’s thoughts with crashing falls on hard rock, echoing around the space like a cymbal in a concert hall.
Once one got used to the sound of the water, the hollow seemed quiet. The birds didn’t seem to nest here, the chapaas and sernuk stayed away, and the Majiri didn’t visit often. Even the wind rarely disturbed this place, sheltered as it was by stone cliffs. The occasional song of a cricket and the gentle rustle of trees by the entrance formed the only melody audible over the falling water.
Over that melody, Robin’s feet tapped on stone. He moved as quietly as he could, unwilling to disturb the peace. Down the path he walked, peering around at the new setting. The path arced through the hollow, with two entrances between rocks, and at the apex of the arc sat a shrine.
It was a beautiful place. A circular stone courtyard, the back edged by a pool of water. Behind the pool was a semicircle of pavilion. In the water, a statue of the neck and head of a dragon towered over Robin, almost a story and a half tall, looking down on him. More water streamed out of its mouth into the pool. A small bowl of incense rested at the base, made tiny by the size of the dragon.
Robin approached with some trepidation. A place of worship, sequestered in stone… The Dragon looked down at him, and in the sun’s glare, he could’ve sworn the eyes moved. A breeze, quiet but persistent, moved through the stone, whistling against the statue.
Kneel.
Robin took a step back from the statue. The voice had been as gentle as a floating leaf, as subtle as a blade of grass, but it hit him like a cold raindrop on the back of his neck. A small chill crept down his back. The water around the hollow seemed to become louder, and the voice was almost hidden in the noise, possibly words, possibly an illusion of the crashing water, the echoes of drops and flows forming the semblance of words.
Kneel, and receive my blessing.
There was no room in Robin’s mind to say this wasn’t real. There was no space in his heart to disbelieve. Fear trickled through him. Whatever this was, it wasn’t something he could disobey. In the middle of the courtyard, he knelt, trying to quiet his breathing, trying to hide his fear. He closed his eyes, and he waited.
Nothing.
He stayed still, down on one knee, head bowed, eyes shut. The sound of water still filled his ears. He waited.
The breeze moved through the hollow again, much stronger this time. A few drops of water from the statue hit the back of Robin’s neck, and he shivered. At his movement, some barrier was broken. A wave of warmth crashed into him, and he swayed. The warmth rushed through his stomach, surged into his limbs, and retracted, pulling itself up, up, up into his head. The sound of water became truly deafening. His mind cleared like it had been wiped blank, and his eyes snapped open, staring at the cobblestone ground and at his own knee as the warmth passed through him, up and up towards the statue’s head. He dimly saw a purple glow across his leg, down his arms, and around the edges of his vision. The same purple glow he’d seen when he emerged…
And it was gone.
The glow faded into his skin, and the water around him quieted, seeming almost silent in his ringing ears compared to the noise a moment ago. The warmth was gone, and the drops against the back of his neck had vanished.
He stayed down, kneeling on cold stone, panting and shaking. He didn’t know why he was shaking anymore. Cold, fear, shock, he couldn’t be sure. His brain grappled with what had happened, trying to listen for the breeze again. But there was none. Palia was still. A cricket sang nearby, the wind moved outside the hollow, and the human stayed on one knee, trembling like a newborn fawn. After his knee began to hurt, he finally looked up.
The statue was still and silent.
Slowly, he raised himself, watching the statue, waiting for something more. But the cricket heard him and jumped away in alarm, and the statue still did nothing.
Absently, Robin patted his pockets. “What did I come out here for?” He mumbled. His mind was racing, his thoughts scattered. He glanced around.
At the base of a nearby tree was a small, red morel. Robin nodded. “Mushrooms. That’s what I came for.”
His mind moved back into its usual rut, undisturbed by the unexplained. The moment had passed and was quickly forgotten, as he collected the fungus and set off to find more.