The golden particles spun slowly at first, drifting upward from the candy as if reluctant to leave the child's side. Then something in the air shifted — a pull, a recognition — and the particles gathered into a spiraling column. Light wove around itself, threads tightening, the glow intensifying until it hummed with a subtle, ancient power.
Behind the altar, the light collapsed inward.
A man fell out of it.
He hit the polished floor hard, elbows scraping stone, breath ripping into his lungs like he'd been drowning for centuries. His fingers dug against the marble, trying to grip the world back into focus. His shoulders shook. His spine curled. His body trembled violently from the strain of existence itself.
For a long moment, he didn't move.
Then, slowly, breath by breath, his trembling began to ease. The temple waited around him, silent, reverent, as if holding its breath for him alone.
A faint rustle came from the altar.
