The temple rose before them like the ribcage of some long-dead beast, its stone pillars cracked and gnawed away by centuries of rain and wars no one remembered anymore. Vines crawled along the broken walls as if trying to stitch the structure back together, but even nature had given up halfway through. The remaining carvings were little more than ghosts: worn faces, chipped halos, symbols whose meanings had eroded into mud.
The soldiers moved in as a single mass of damp uniforms and ragged breathing. Their boots sank into the thick layer of dust and rotted leaves that coated the floor, each step echoing beneath the hollow dome. Following tiny footprints etched on the dust, mixed with blood.
They didn't have the luxury of reverence. Their chase for a little girl had led them in circles for hours, slipping through trees and shadows with a kind of desperate brilliance that none of them could explain. Luck, they had murmured among themselves. Or something less comforting.
