“Amazing, huh?”
“It really is.”
Our exchange was somewhat lacking in terms of vocabulary, but only because the sight before us had robbed us of the ability to say anything more articulate.
We were standing in a rural village looking up at a structure with listing, hand-built stone walls. Putting it nicely, I might have called it a pastoral tableau, while being more merciless would have meant describing it as a massive building out in the boonies. It was more majestic than a church and more peaceful than a castle, so the best word I could think of for it was “temple.”
Gray stains from weathering streaked the walls, and the glass windows on the second floor had some broken panels. The villagers might have gathered here and crowded into the building during its past, but now there was no sign of that and the place felt more like a ruin than anything. Even so, it still had an air of holiness to it like a temple would, and it held our gazes, refusing to let go.
At some point, Nito’s shoulders had started to shake. Her silver hair shone in the sunlight and also seemed to tremble, while her pointed ears, poking through the curtain of her hair, started to twitch. I could easily guess what she would do next.
Sure enough, she turned on her heel and raced back to the Kettle to open the back door. She swung her bag of art materials onto her back and fetched out the easel lying in the footwell. She tottered her way around with her arms wrapped around the easel, and once she’d picked a good spot she put it down and opened it up, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at the temple.
At this point, there’d be no stopping her no matter what I said. She was going to be fixated on her painting. She’d frequently had me stop and set up her easel when she saw some view that caught her eye.
“I’m heading in,” I called to her, just in case, but she didn’t reply, just kept holding her pencil while looking between her sketchbook and the temple.
Shrugging, I made my way up the temple’s stone stairs. A pair of tall doors shut off the entrance, but they weren’t locked. I looked inside as I pushed them open, the hinges squealing. Rows of pews lined the huge room inside. A statue of a woman holding a staff stood at the far end where you could easily look up at it, with colorful glass decorating the walls around it. It occurred to me that Nito would probably be pretty happy about this room as well.
Outside, it felt like summer was on its way, but the interior of the temple was almost unpleasantly cold. It was like the silent stillness had frozen the very air itself.
A red carpet led from the entrance straight to the statue. Many people must have walked that path before, as the carpet was dirtied from heavy foot traffic. I followed it up to the statue, which was probably of the saint I’d heard about before. She must have been part of this world’s faith and religion, but I didn’t know the details. Everyone seemed to venerate her existence though.
Once I got closer, I saw there were three steps up to the statue, with a multitude of candles lining them. I doubted anyone was around to light them anymore.
Suddenly, something caught my attention. I held my breath and strained my ears.
I hadn’t misheard—there was the sound again. Faint noises were coming from behind the door on the left. Someone must be here.
I wasn’t entirely sure whether to investigate. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have needed to worry, but hearing strange noises in some remote village in this ruined world put me on edge. It wasn’t specifically fear, but more an awareness of not being able to make assumptions about what the noises might be. I’d decided not to bother, and I was idly scratching my cheek when the door opened behind me.
A shaft of vivid light slipped its way inside and I turned around. I’d first thought it was Nito coming in, but the person standing there was actually a slightly stooped old woman. She looked steadily at me from the entrance before eventually walking forward without a word, a wooden bucket dangling from her hand. She was heading straight for me.
“Um, hello there,” I greeted hesitantly.
The woman came to a stop in front of me and simply said one word.
“Move.”
“Ah, sorry,” I said, stepping aside.
She put the bucket in the space I’d vacated. The water filling it to the brim sloshed around inside it. She knelt and took a cloth from its rim, dunking it in the water and then wringing it out.
“Is the half-elf girl who’s painting out front with you?” she asked.
“Ah, yes, she is.”
“She didn’t respond to anything I said. What are you doing all the way out here?”
“We’re traveling. We followed the road through the forest and saw the temple once we’d cleared it.”
She didn’t spare me a glance as she set about using the cloth to wipe the candlesticks. I stood there at a loss, watching. I didn’t know what to do about the unnatural silence that had fallen over us. I might have been getting in the way of her cleaning as it was, and not everyone needed conversation or contact with people.
“Do you have time?” she asked suddenly, and when I quickly answered that I did, she flicked her eyes toward me. “Go get that stepladder, then.”
She’d indicated a corridor off to the right. Resting in the corner was a wooden stepladder. I picked it up and came back, setting it up next to the statue where she’d gestured. She dunked and wrung another cloth, offering it to me.