THE TEMPLE OF THE WEST VILLAGE was modest. The Temple in which Marsil stood that is. Unlike the Grace Temple back at Calipsos, the area didn't boast mighty granite pillars, splendidly designed courts, or graven archways. All the villagers had decorated into the rounded walls of their temple was history.
Their history.
The walls held record of time before the Night Wars. The way the tribes and cultures had coexisted with one another. It bore these memories on stone walls as red and white paint, demonstrating the gods and demons of their tribe. The eagle-headed idol was one of the many sculptures in the temple.
Marsil had come into the place because of its seclusion from the bustle of village. He loved sounds of the playing children but that didn't necessarily mean he had to be there to watch them play.
The Prince didn't think anyone would be present in the temple. He was right. No one was.
Until now that is...
