Work in Progress
His thoughts chased about inside of his head dancing beyond his grasp. Some were closer, some were father, and some he could feel slipping completely free from him. There was something he should remember. He was sure of that, but he could not get any thought to stay long enough to be sure what it was he should remember.
Arionn closed his eyes tightly trying to press the confusing tangle of thoughts away from him. Slowly, he worked on controlling his breathing and taking stalk of his body. Everything seemed fine if growing a bit numb from the cold hardness beneath him.
Finding his center he opened his eyes again, this time they focused. The swirl of colors resolved themselves into a dome far above depicting Vireeth’s teachings. In the center of it all the crescent moon shone down into the stone box he lay in. The dome, Vireeth’s temple. Thoughts tugged at the edge of his mind until exploding in a panic.
He shot up into a sitting position as his eyes searched the room for a sign of the monks or his sister. His assessment only yielded what his ears had already told him though. He was alone. A thick layer of dust coated the floor. The door to the room was missing. The covering slab lay broken in four pieces at each corner of the box.
Pushing himself up, he swung his legs over the edge of the crypt and landed shakily on the ground. His hands trailed over the corner of the slab nearest him assessing the edges where the stone had shattered. The stone was almost smooth under his hands. It had been broken cleanly in the center of the crescent.
As he raised his hand he looked at the heavy dust sticking to his skin. Temples to the Five Deity were found in every city, shrines in the village. Some fell into the disuse at times as a village or city's desires shifted between the pantheon. Disuse, but there was always at least one monk left to tend the structure or if small enough the relics were removed and it was shut up. Never had he heard tale of this. Vireeth’s temple, Vireeth’s coffin, left uncared for.
