The looming spire seemed to scrape the sky, seemed to swallow the sun completely. Ma’sal swallowed, feeling a hard lump in his throat as he followed the hooded man closer to the shadowed temple. The air near it seemed to fall colder, the wind growing deathly still—something that was unheard of in these plains. Moreover, the scorching sun became blotted out by its towering peak, as if the ball of fire had been speared and smothered by the steeple.

What am I doing? The thought came to him suddenly, but it was too late for hesitation now. Too late to go back and be one of those mindless slaves, wasting away in the field. Too late to go back and forget what she had told him. Too late to forget about Tsaya.

As they neared the temple, a curious thing seemed to happen to his vision. The surface of the building seemed to shimmer and shift the longer that he held it in his gaze. A brief glance would tell him that there was an edge, a wall, yet the more he stared at the corner, the more it seemed to slip out of his grasp. Underneath that amorphous surface, he saw stone and bone, gray and white that stood out stark against the shadowed black. But he also saw blots of dark red, coursing rivulets of blood that seemed to pulse with detached heartbeat, like hideous veins running through the walls. The only thing that was constant, that did not shift as he stared, was the towering peak of the temple that rose up towards the sky. He could not spy the top, its edge growing thinner and taller as it grazed the heavens.

His head hung farther and farther back as he tried to trace the tip, only for a sudden bout of vertigo to seize him. For a moment, the sky seemed to swivel and fly underneath him, the world around him spinning around a different axis. An abrupt pain shot through his mind, his eyes slamming closed as he clutched at his temples. Yet the wave passed as quickly as it had came.

As he opened his eyes, he was shocked to find the world in front of him utterly changed. No longer was he surrounded by dust and dirt, lost in the middle of the plains. Instead, the world around him seemed to be a bubble—a cage—formed from shifting shadow. Around him on all sides, rising out of the ground, were amorphous walls on that shapeless material. Tentatively, he reached out to touch it only to find distance disobeying him. The closer he reached, the farther it seemed to grow, as if he was trapped in a dream. There was only a pluming black mist that seemed to curl around his fingers, numbing and cool against his skin.

Looking around, he found that he was standing on a floor of black glass—obsidian, they had called it in Ossia. It, too, felt cold against his feet, and he took a few hesitant steps before finally looking forward.

He saw Tsaya waiting for him.

There was something behind her, but his gaze was instead drawn to her beautiful eyes. They seemed to change the more that he watched, much like everything else in this strange space. Blue, brown, a deep red—they flickered and shimmered as he strode closer to her. Her dark hair hung in soft curls, gently draped over her shoulders. Her full lips were stretched in a smile, a warm, disarming smile that stole away sense and doubt. A simple robe hung over her body, normally out of place and yet entirely natural on her.

“H-how—” Ma’sal stammered out, trying to get closer to her. Fortunately, she, unlike the walls of this place, did not move farther away from him. She seemed to understand his confusion, gently grasping his hand within her own warm palms. Her skin was soft, blissfully smooth to the touch, and he felt his pulse stomp out a fervent beat in response.

“What is this place?” he asked finally, after a moment of searching through his thoughts.

Tsaya responded warmly, her voice lilting and sweet. “This is our god. This is Atal. He is nothing, but he is also everything.” She threw her arms wide, as if he encompass all of the sweeping darkness that covered the world, and she spun giddily in place. Her hair flew out in the air, her robes flying loose, and for a moment Ma’sal caught a glimpse of the tanned skin underneath them.

Smooth skin. No charred corruption, no twisted flesh. A little more of the doubt eased of his mind, a small sigh escaping his lips.

“Do you know the old stories? They’re hard to find these days. But before there was the world, we were all one. There was no war. There was no death. We were all together in the dark, all one with Atal. It was perfect. But the creator stole that all away from us.”

“His brother was jealous of the peace, jealous that he had been left out. Ajah tore us from the darkness, ripped us out from his embrace.” At this, she shuddered, and Ma’sal felt a wave of empathy run through him. It hurt him to see her in distress, to see her eyes flicker in pain. “We were cast down here, in the dirt. We were made into animals, unable to feel the thoughts of each other.”

“War—war and fighting and blood and death, all of that came after. It came after we lost Atal. Everything—” She shuddered, tears streaming down her face now as she clutched at her shoulders. “Everything we lost, it brought us to where we are now.”

She took in a deep breath, struggling to compose herself before continuing. “I—I lost my family to war in Kauria. You would not know where it is; it’s a small island to the east. When Altarosan fleets colonized it, I lost my mother and father. Later, when we were running, I lost my older sister.” The tears were flowing freely now, shimmering and glistening in memory. “I was alone at the end of it all.”

“And then Atal spoke to me. He spoke to me with his touch, just like you are feeling right now. He showed me that we can be more, that we can have all that we ever lost, and more. In this crow-cursed world, Atal was the only one that ever cared.”

Ma’sal opened his mouth to speak, but he found no words come to mind. I’m sorry? That meant nothing. How terrible? Useless. Would words staunch the tears that dripped from her chin? Would words ease the pain of her memories?

They did not for him. How could they for her?

“My family was torn apart by war. That’s why you intrigued me, because they told me that you had lost your family too. We’re alike, in that way. “ she laughed bitterly, the sound like rose petals falling from a dying flower. There was nostalgia and spite in there, but also a faint hint of hope.

“You… ” Ma’sal finally spoke out. “You were… watching me?”

Tsaya nodded hesitantly, her curled hair bouncing from the motion. “They wanted me to, at first. But when I first saw you—I saw some of, of myself in there, I suppose.” She laughed nervously, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks.

“You weren’t like the others. There was life in your eyes. You hadn’t given up, and I wanted to help you somehow, but…” she spoke a little breathlessly.

You gave me that life, he wanted to reply, his heart beating madly in his chest. There was a fire to his fingertips, an electric tension that filled his limbs.

Suddenly, she strode forward in a flowing motion. Before he could even respond, her face was next to his, her lips pressing against his own. Soft. Sweet. They stole away his breath, his thoughts, and he felt his hammering heart seem to melt under her touch.

After too long and yet still too short a time, she pulled back regretfully. Her cheeks were aflame, her eyes unable to meet his. “Sorry, I—I don’t know why…” she stammered out, seeming for all the world even more beautiful even as she looked ashamed.

Ma’sal hurriedly reached out for her hands, once more being surprised at how smooth they were. Not calloused and ugly, worn and battered. Smooth. Perfect. “Don’t be.” he whispered back, his voice low and trembling with emotion. When her gaze turned up to meet his, he felt a bolt of electricity shoot down his spine.

“Will you join me, then? Will you come with me?” There was an eternity of promise in that voice, hidden behind a shroud of doubt and disappointment. Ma’sal realized suddenly that for her, he was willing to do anything. To live for her sake, to be by her side, to see her smiling face, there was no hesitation in his body.

Is this love? It was a glorifying, intoxicating feeling that smothered his other thoughts and sent his heart into a maddening chant. “Of course.” he replied, his voice hoarse and his hands shaking.

For her, anything.