The marketplace buzzed with energy, but today it felt different. I walked through the crowd, aware of the glances that followed me, lingering just a moment too long. I could feel the weight of their curiosity, the way they whispered to each other as I passed. It was as if my very presence had woven itself into the fabric of this place, becoming a part of the tapestry of their daily lives.
I approached a merchant's stall, a man I recognized from my previous visit. His skin was weathered from years under the sun, and his eyes were sharp, like a hawk's. He looked at me, and I saw a flicker of recognition cross his face. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table, and studied me closely.
"It's you, isn't it?" he asked, his voice low and tinged with something close to reverence. "The one they speak of. The god who walks between moments."
For a brief moment, I considered denying it. But I realized that the story had already taken hold, spreading through the marketplace like fire through dry grass. The truth, or some version of it, had already been decided.
"I'm just a traveler," I replied, my voice calm, but I knew my words wouldn't matter. The legend was already growing, and nothing I said would change that.
The merchant nodded slowly, as if my answer had confirmed what he'd already decided to believe. "They say you can disappear in the blink of an eye, that you can stop time itself." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Are you here to protect us? Or to judge us?"
I hesitated, feeling the weight of his questions. I hadn't considered that my actions could be interpreted in so many ways. "I'm here to observe," I said finally. "To understand."
He seemed to accept this, his eyes still fixed on me as I turned to leave. I could feel his gaze on my back as I moved through the crowd, his words echoing in my mind. They thought I was a god, a being with powers beyond their comprehension. And as much as I wanted to blend in, I knew that was impossible now.
---
I made my way to the temple, the one where I had been seen last time.
The priests were gathered near the entrance, their robes a deep shade of crimson, and they watched me with a mixture of awe and caution. One of them, an older man with a silver beard and piercing eyes, stepped forward, holding out his hands as if to greet me.
"We have prepared a place for you," he said, his voice filled with a reverence that made me uncomfortable. He led me to a small alcove near the altar, where an array of offerings had been placed—fruit, flowers, and small clay figures. I recognized the symbols on the wall, spirals that seemed to mirror the essence of time, each one carefully etched with a delicate hand.
I took a moment to observe the offerings, feeling a strange sense of responsibility. These people believed in me, in the stories that had sprung up around my actions. I had become a part of their beliefs, woven into the fabric of their understanding of the world.
"Why do you honor me?" I asked, turning to the priest, curious to hear his perspective.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity. "You have shown us things we did not know were possible. You walk through time as we walk through the market. You are a reminder that there is more to this world than what we can see."
His words were simple, but they carried a depth that struck me. I realized that, to them, I wasn't just a traveler or an observer—I was a symbol, a representation of the mysteries that lay beyond their understanding. And while that knowledge humbled me, it also made me aware of the power I held, even unintentionally.
---
I wandered deeper into the temple, my footsteps echoing in the dimly lit halls.
At the end of a narrow corridor, I discovered a hidden chamber, a room filled with ancient scrolls and artifacts that seemed untouched by time. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and I felt a sense of reverence as I stepped inside, careful not to disturb anything.
I moved slowly, letting my fingers hover over the artifacts without touching them, absorbing the history that seemed to pulse through the room. Each scroll, each object, held a piece of the past, a fragment of the world as it once was. I felt a deep connection to these relics, as if they were calling out to me, asking to be remembered.
As I examined the room, I copied some of the inscriptions into my memory, careful not to take anything with me. I understood now that my role was not to alter or claim, but to preserve. These items belonged to the temple, to the people who had created them, and I would not disrupt that balance.
When I left the chamber, I felt a sense of peace, a quiet understanding that my presence here was a privilege, not a right. I had seen their world, touched their history, and I knew that my actions, however small, would ripple through time in ways I could not foresee.
As I walked back through the temple, I felt the weight of their belief settle around me, like a cloak woven from threads of time. I was a part of their story now, and I would carry that with me, a reminder of the power that came with being a Guardian.
---
Give me stones
**End of Chapter**