Ikai took a step forward, and the sand, which had been crunching under his feet like frozen ice, did not break, but gave way, as if inviting him to go deeper. Not into the ground, but into an insatiable maw.
"So this is how it works? No warnings, no weapons, no choices. Just a step down. It's typical. Even in death, they take away the right to be worthy."
With each step, he realized that the desert was not lifeless at all; it was merely pretending to be so. Something alive and hungry was hiding beneath its surface.
The old blind men were still there, above him, motionless and silent. Perhaps relieved.
"Yes, of course. They gave me the vessel, pointed to this hole, and disappeared. It was as simple as that: 'Go, vessel.' It was up to me to figure it out."
He had no recollection of how he had come to be here. It had happened suddenly, as if the world had turned upside down in an instant.
The sand evaporated, giving way to walls – smooth, age-old stone slabs with a wrinkled surface. Only slightly damp, they resembled skin soaked in fear and weakness.
The walls exuded a sense of vitality, but it was a life that had been decaying from within. The atmosphere was oppressive and dance, as if saturated with anguish: and, blood, the scent of ages iron, permeated by the rust of flesh.
A cloying warmth enveloped all, viscous and painful, like the depths of a dying creature.
A murmur rose from the depths. Not a voice, not words. Something beyond speech, beyond language. A pulse. A rhythm. A sigh. Something ancient, primal, as if the very stone were trying to breathe.
"You are within" — the Star whispered. — "Not the temple, but yourself."
"Wonderful. Now I am not only a lost fool, but also an allegory walking. What next? Suicide? Or shall I crumble to dust, like those blind one, only without philosophical posturing and with even less grace?"
He was moving forward. The darkness around them seemed... relative. Her eyes couldn't see anything, but her inner gaze felt her. This Eye penetrated through the age-old darkness, discerning intent, pain, traces of the past.
A circular hall suddenly opened up in front of him.
There are runes on the walls that look like charred scars.
In the middle of the hall is a platform framed by the blackening remains of dolls.
He recognized them.
She was here – a girl, a doll, a scar.
"Of course, just a little further on, and there it was, a child's altar, bursting with its eerie simplicity. The perfect place to end a long day. Or a life."
The figures stood as silent witnesses, crude and hastily carved, but each with a gaping void in their chests, as if the light had been torn out of them, leaving only a meaningless silence.
Ikai felt something inside him stir. The star in his chest flared and shuddered like a muscle gone into spasm.
The world reeled around him; there was less air, and his head rang as if he had just been slapped.
"Again, it feels like I'm not in control of my own body. No will. No control. It's like everything is predetermined. Am I just a vessel? Even my name isn't mine."
Ikai straightened up, gritting his teeth. His throat was so dry that every breath was a struggle, and his mouth had a metallic taste, like the bitterness of copper.
The platform beneath his feet vibrated uneasily. The walls flared with a sudden frame of fire, rune after rune bursting out like a living flame. But this flame did not warm. It devoured.
" You entered without a vow."
" You saw without eyes."
" You carry a star."
" You are not ready."
"Thank you. Just like a teacher at school. "Only here, I think they burn you at the stake for getting a bad grade."
The voice, or something similar to it, a foreign entity, passed through his body. It didn't touch his skin, but it penetrated directly through his bones. It was like a quiet echo in his spine, sharp and unusual.
Taking the last step, he stopped in the center of the circle. Deep inside, it wasn't his heart that trembled, but rather a star that flared momentarily, awakening.
And then came that breath. It wasn't a sound, but a wave, a slow resonance like the breath of the world—ancient, heavy, and long forgotten. It felt it. It saw not a name, but an essence. An intention.
"Well, that's it..."
He thought to himself.
"I've been noticed by something that may not exist in its usual form. I hope my next life will be beautiful, without any hysteria or screaming."
Ikai realized that he wasn't the first to find himself here.
But perhaps he would be the last to leave. The silence seemed filled with expectation, as if the structure itself was demanding something from him—a decision, an action, a gesture or a word.
But to him, this demand remained inexplicable. He didn't understand what the insistent walls and the silent depths were waiting for. Most importantly, he didn't want to speculate or waste his thoughts on endless guesses.
These eternal mysteries seemed to mock his instincts.
"No one ever speaks directly, no one ever gives a simple and clear warning: take this step and you will die, or take this power and you will save the world. Instead, you are confronted with confusion: secret runes, lifeless figures resembling children, and lifeless sounds – hoarse breaths in a darkness-filled void."
Is it possible that it is already over? Is it possible that death has long been waiting for him, but he has yet to recognize its presence?
Ikai took a timid half-step forward. At the same moment, the platform began to descend gently. Its movement was so slow and smooth that it resembled an ancient elevator, once crafted by the craftsmanship of a bygone era.
It sank into the depths of darkness, each moment further away from the light and enveloped in a dense gloom.
A pungent smell of old dust arose, as if it had been lying untouched for centuries, and with it came a foul, acrid stench that overpowered all other sensations.
"Beautiful. Descending into the womb of a dead deity. Or perhaps into someone's decaying memory. The boundaries seem to blur here."
The walls around him were covered with many indentations, as if someone had left footprints on the stone from the inside. In these footprints, he could see faces – not carved, but as if they were imprints.
Cheekbones, lips, eyes... They were all different. Some seemed to be screaming, while others seemed to be laughing.
"What is this place? "
He breathed out. And the star within him responded: "The footprints of those who have paved the way for you. Their memories. Their mistakes."
"Well, that means everyone had a chance. And everyone missed it. It's quite inspiring."
His gaze suddenly stopped, as if he had come across the cause of all his vague sensations. In front of him was a face, an unusual face, unlike any other. It was a woman's face, delicate and unusually calm, as if completely immersed in itself.
The woman's eyes were closed, as if she were resting in a deep sleep, and on her lips was a strange symbol, not a letter or a magical rune, but simply two intersecting lines that evoked an unexpected response in his soul.
Ikai couldn't explain to himself why this was the case, but he was certain: he recognized her. It wasn't a knowledge from the world of the mind, but from some hidden corner of the heart or memory that he didn't even know existed.
"Perhaps before I took over this body... did he know this girl in his lifetime?"
"You haven't gone unnoticed, despite my vague journey among the shadows. I don't remember you, which is strange, but for some reason, the feeling of emptiness is replaced by the certainty that you know me. Yes, of course you do."
Ikai continued to speak softly, his face filled with the girl's image.
"This place and its rustling sounds seem to understand who I am and what I will become. And I? I walk around here like a blind puppy, stubbornly tripping over my own doubts in a dusty tomb."
He didn't remember the moment when the decision came to him. His hand reached out to the stone on its own, as if there was another governing force, older and wiser, beyond his will. The stone came alive under his fingers for a moment, its touch warm and silent.
Suddenly, reality crumbled into nothingness. Everything around him disappeared without a trace.
*A sudden flashback from the past*
He stood on top of a cliff. Below him was a sea of sand that moved like water, coming to life beneath him, as if it were hiding something huge and elusive.
Behind him was a woman. The same woman he had seen once before, but now her face seemed full of life.
She was wrapped in black bandages that covered her eyes. In her hands, she held a vessel from which a thin thread of light extended, leading directly to him - to Ikai.
"You have chosen a path. "
"No one gave me any choice."
"But you're looking," — she said calmly. "And that's an act of faith. "
He wanted to shout, "I don't believe it!" but the words stuck somewhere inside, and the voice disappeared. The woman just smiled.
"The first thing that takes away a Relic is a choice. The second is pain."
"And the third? "
"Memory."
She stepped back.
Disappeared.
* The end of the Memory*
Ikai was left alone. But now it's not on a cliff, but on the icy floor of a cell.
He came to with a sharp, painful cough, as if the air was resisting his attempts to breathe. The stone surface he lay on was soaked with icy moisture, making it seem as if darkness itself was seeping through the cracks.
The cold seeped into his bones, awakening a sense of danger woven into the silence.
The platform that had once trembled beneath his body froze. She no longer moved, leaving him alone with an oppressive immobility. However, one of the walls suddenly gave way, as if obeying a hidden mechanism.
She dissolved in front of him, revealing a passage that was narrow and dark, as if made of thick night.
And beyond that passage... there was a sound. At first, a quiet, barely discernible whisper of pain, then clearer – the crying of a child. The ringing sadness of his voice filled the space with such a thick echo that it struck the heart and soul.
"No. It's too much. I won't go there… I'm not a hero. Not a savior, not a protector. I just want it to stop. I want to forget."
But everything changed in an instant. Step… By step… He went forward – in doubt and fear, against the voice of reason. Something inside him made him move.
Where the thin thread of reason gave way to an inexplicable impulse, the star within him burned brighter with every sound of a child's cry.
Her light trembled in unison with the child's lamentations, as if in response to an invisible pain. It was an intuitive recognition of something important and long forgotten.
The light recalled something that the mind might try to suppress, but the heart could not forget...