A suspicious man in dark clothes carrying a shrill smile.
(Check)
While hiding deep in seclusion.
(Check)
In a temple that houses nothing but large stone reminders of its past life that once boasts its grandeur?
(You bet)
The atmosphere of the temple is giving off a cult-like atmosphere and it does not help that Shinyo is not acting like himself. He treads along behind their guide without so much as asking where they are going and why.
(Something is not right)
The entire temple festers with mold and grime that feeds off the years that the cold stones have on them as they continue to support whoever lives underneath its roof while the ominous air that it shelters gives life to the ghosts that haunt its halls. With every new one they pass, a cold hand crawls up Lincoln's neck and grabs him by the throat.
"What was that?" Lincoln startles.
"What was what?" their guide asks, letting a menacing smile and laugh escape his lips and as it gives life to the dark and empty temple.
"It is not funny," Lincoln answers back, but his eyes reflect the fear and the scare he is feeling.
Their guide only responds with a smug smile and carries on walking. Creepy and puppet-like.
(We must run)
This is the first and only thought that is picking at Lincoln's mind. However, Shinyo keeps on walking. His eyes are white as the snow, and his movement, puppet-like, mimicking almost every motion that their guide does and in spite of the troubles that their past has, Shinyo is the closest thing to family Lincoln has.
(Were his eyes all white?)
One turn after another, the narrow halls seem to snake-like forever until it finally opens to a large, oval room with a ceiling as high as the sky above their heads. Cold Colosseum-like seats line the room reflecting the many years since the last time it has people sitting on them, but the dents and cracks on its surface look fresh.
At the foot of the bleachers are seven intimidating highchairs, hugely reflecting the cold intimidation that the temple already has. The same highchairs are now overlooking over them. Their guide walks over to one of them after he tells them to wait where they stand.
With a leg on the armrest, their guide sits on the highchair at the farthest making his torchlight reappear from the one on his hand to the beam that stands just behind his chair.
The light highlights his scarlet hair when his hood is halfway down. His face and his devilish eyes are calculating nearing the point of mischievous. Having a smile that covers almost the entire lower half of his face as he eyes Lincoln with deep regard does not help.
Although he stares at him, he does not greet him. He directs these towards Shinyo.
"How are you Shinyo?" out of formality.
"Great," he responds, almost robot-like, his eyes still completely in a daze.
But not long after, when nothing else is happening and staring at Lincoln has become old, his boredom sinks in.
"Argh!" he groans, "Where are they?" slamming his heel against the millennium-old stone floor, sending echoes that fill the temple with a dull and empty thud, but a loud crash follows with smoke forming on the six other highchairs. Then, through the smoke, silhouettes form.
Four more figures emerge when the smoke disperses.
"Dirkan," is Lincoln's first comments, pulling him out of the confusion that the sudden appearance of five other individuals because the one in the middle looks exactly like the father figure that he recently lost. Upon closer examination, however, he notices the minute differences that the two have between them – a warmer smile that gives a sense of reassurance, an ability that Dirkan never develops in his mature age. Dirkan does smile a lot, but not in a way that draws others towards him.
"No boy!" he bellows and laughs, sending echoes throughout the empty temple, "That's my brother! The name's Birch. Nice to meet ya!" slamming his broadsword tall broadsword to the ground that it shakes as he does so.
"How you doin' there, Stephan?" acknowledging Lincoln's torchbearer's presence. Their sudden appearance leaving him in a state of surprise because unlike those that are just announcing their presence, Stephan, their torchbearer, is new to what Lincoln is calling The Council of Highchairs.
He nods, but the embarrassment causes the irritation on his face.
"That's alright bro," teases the lady who looks exactly like Stephan – their eyes, except for the mischievous look, are the same. Their hair is a similar shade of red, but parts in opposite direction. Where her fringe combs over to the right, his parts to the left. She has a warm, inviting smile that urges you to divulge your deepest secrets.
"NOW WHO IS THIS SPRIGHTLY YOUNG FELLA?!" inquires a lady with such a wild look. Her words come out with no refinement. Her hair is as wild as her eyes, but not as wild as Stephan's. She just has so much energy that she does not know where to place it. She is a twitchy lady which is dangerous when you have a large ax resting across your back.
Her eyes keep moving back and forth, in search of nothing.
"Ca-c-can't you ke-k-keep yourself together Vik?" stutters the last one of the four new figures who sit opposite Stephan. At his side is a long spear with two blades shooting from its side like a cross, but he looks un-warrior-like. His hair is a bowl cut and he has a pair of glasses that swirls like a kaleidoscope.
The five of them go back and forth. Some responses offer a laugh while others boil into arguments that they settle by agreeing to disagree. However, Stephan's irritation only grows as time passes, but Lincoln grows unsure of what he is seeing. His eyes keep shutting and their voices have become a dull echo in his head.
The room begins to spin, and he wants to scream as the fear grabs a hold of his neck, but his voice fails him, and every breath is a struggle.
"That is his son," their blurry figures turn to him and turns to the once empty chair where Shinyo is now sitting.
"His shadow is back," Shinyo adds and Lincoln notices that this brings the room to a halt. The sting of their stares and their collective gasp seems funny to Lincoln, if only he is not fading off.
Stephan is calmly sitting back on his chair.
"Are you sure?" asks Shyama, shifting her weight to the edge of her seat.
Shinyo responds by guiding their stares to the Stygian iron on Lincoln's waist, but he falls. He blacks out and their outlines rushing towards him is the last sight he sees.
"Take him," Birch's bellowing voice commands the other four, "Bring him to one of the empty rooms and let him rest. Long days are ahead."
The weight in his words is heavy enough for gravity's pull to feel stronger.
"Whether or not it is for better or worse, is yet to be seen," Birch adds.