The black ruins of the First Temple did not look like a holy place. It looked like a graveyard for giants. Kairos walked slowly through the tall, shattered pillars. The gray dirt of the Ashlands did not blow inside the temple walls. The wind completely stopped at a certain point, repelled by an invisible barrier. The air inside the ruins was rigid and heavy. It felt like walking at the bottom of a deep ocean. Every single step Kairos took required intense effort. His travel boots dragged loudly across the smooth obsidian floor.
Librarian Jovian walked easily beside him, unaffected by the crushing pressure. The old immortal kept his hands tucked into his faded gray robes. The cursed book, Fallen, levitated near his shoulder, its dark chains rattling against the oppressive holy aura of the ruins.
