For years, the temple had been silent. Or had it been decades? Time was inconsistent here, or so it seemed. Moments blurred together into a haphazard menagerie of sounds and single images, forgotten by the trees as quickly as a breeze. Creeping tendrils of vines hooked into the cracks between worn stone blocks, pulling sour green ivy up the wall inch by intrusive inch. The crumbling doorway need no longer worry about supporting the elaborate arch visitors passed under upon entering, and so that arch was abandoned to collapse across the threshold. No worshippers noticed, for no worshippers came. Untended. A dead temple for a dead god. Another ruin to be consumed by the forest.
Domineering branches scraped over the spires as the forest stretched to overtake the neglected structure, pushing blocks out of place and invading through cracks in the towers’ defenses. They were unimpressed with the gargoyles crouched behind every corner, mouths wide in a roar as silent as the praises forgotten below. It was violently that nature reclaimed what had been taken from it generations ago. Wings were broken, horns cracked, and on occasion even an entire statue would be unbalanced enough to fall to the hard ground below.
One such gargoyle took the plunge just as the sun crept back up over the horizon. The hunched stone body was unsettled by a destructive branch worming in under its feet, leaning it dangerously close to the edge of its perch. A pair of crows landing on an outstretched claw was all it took.
The statue tipped forward, enough to trigger a damning slide past the point of any return. The crows took flight with an offended scream as the gargoyle tumbled toward the ground, bouncing once against the wall. It was enough to space the landing from the treacherous rocks below, dropping the construct onto rain-softened earth instead. Magic licked through the soil, leaching from Feeorin only a short walk to the west. Had a witness been present, they would most certainly find themselves in disbelief that a statue so firmly set in the mud could find itself sliding down the slope of the nearby hill without anyone first pushing it there.
Down, down, down it rolled, the stone of its limbs and tail remaining miraculously intact. The forest wrapped along the hillside, nudging the journey back on course to the pool waiting at the base of the slope. A hollow splash, and the gargoyle sank into the hungry waters.
Cold. He felt cold. He felt. Eyes like gemstones slid open, a pair of shining amethysts. Murk and darkness greeted him. Underneath him was sludge. Above him, a distant glow. Fear fluttered in the creature’s chest. Fear. Bat-like wings pulled sluggishly against the water, claws digging deep into the solid earth beneath the mud. A strong swipe of a solid tail stirred up more silt, but did nothing to push him toward the glow. He had to get out of the cold, out of the void.
Using his claws like climbing hooks, he dragged himself to the bank, panic beginning to flutter in his chest with every moment he spent in the emptiness. It felt like a year long struggle to pull himself from the depths, water spraying from his mouth as he breached the surface. Sludge slipped beneath his weight, threatening to drag him back down again, but he dug in his hooves, anchoring himself in place. His head hung low, liquid from his mouth and nose draining out into the muck. Everything felt heavy and cold, but he shivered from fear, not the chill.
An ox-like ear twitched at the sound of a snapping twig, and his gaze jumped up to the brilliant blue bird watching him. The pair stared at each other for a few seconds before the gargoyle lifted a hand and reached shakily forward. With an offended chirp, the bird took flight. It flew off past a huge stone wall. A temple. With trembling legs, the gargoyle stood, finding balance by use of his tail. His steps were uncertain, like those of a toddler, but he quickly gained confidence as he approached the building. It was little more than an empty husk, abandoned by all but the most stubborn vermin at this point.
Standing at the ruined threshold, he was struck with an odd feeling of familiarity. An image of robed, two-legged creatures–humans… for some reason he knew they were called humans–marched in and out through the doorway.
Entering the space felt unwelcoming and hostile, so he instead retreated to examine the outside. Another image, this time of two humans tearing vines from the walls to protect the temple. Teeth bared, happy sounds. Names as they pointed up to the spires. They muddled in his head, but one rang clear as a bell. Norby. Was that him?
The gargoyle circled the building several times, finding a few memories here and there, but none of them were fully familiar. They felt like his, but from experiences he didn’t recall having. When no new images appeared, he turned away from the temple.
With heavy hooves leaving wells in the mud, he tromped along in whatever direction he happened to be facing. In this case, the forest welcomed him with open arms, the branches almost appearing to shift around him. They didn’t catch on his horns, nor did they scrape his wings as he passed. It was as if they were making room for his clumsy, stumbling footsteps, knowing full well that he would not mind his footing.
A concoction of unusual smells assaulted him as he hiked, stealing his attention. Not a single one was familiar, but several were distracting enough to make him stumble over the occasional root. One such trip resulted in a especially loud crunch near the base of a tree, but he barely slowed his pace. He didn’t know where he was going, but moving forward felt like the right thing to be doing.
