NOVEL NEXT Chapter 11: The Golden Light Temple
"Is there any particular reason why it's called The Golden Light Temple?" Perry asked.
"Yes. It is a house of enlightenment, where people can come from all around to learn about the correct and moral path of life." Myran pressed one hand to his chest and nodded.
Perry's expectations of grandeur slowly faded as they approached. The temple had clearly been through a lot.
Entire sections of some of the walls were gone, some left open, and some covered by wooden planks. One section of the right wall looked like it had melted, the stone warped and twisted. It reminded Perry of some ruins he'd seen in history books. Except this place was clearly still inhabited.
"It was not always like this," Myran said, correctly interpreting Perry's expression. "This temple was once a place of great evil, run by servants of the Eighth Circle of Hell." His voice dropped to whisper. "Dark creatures roamed these halls freely, and forbidden spells were practiced in broad daylight."
Perry glanced at the melted stone with renewed interest. "What happened?"
"The Sun Father had finally seen enough. He sent down a host of gods to beat back the evil creatures and wicked practitioners. Saints came to cleanse the corrupted land." Myran's eyes shone with enthusiasm. "They say the Golden Saint himself descended from the heavens and used his own blood to make the land holy again."
"His blood?" Perry couldn't help but ask. "Why blood?"
"Because his blood is made of pure gold!" Myran exclaimed. "A single drop is enough to banish an entire horde of demons."
Perry thought this sounded like one giant exaggeration, but Myran's excitement was infectious. The boy continued his story as they got nearer to the temple entrance.
"After the cleansing, they appointed the most righteous master to run the temple, and the saint himself named it the Golden Light Temple."
"Is that the same master who teaches here now?"
Myran laughed. "No, that was centuries ago. Our current master is the latest in a long line of disciples of disciples of the original master."
As they crossed the stone arch and into the temple grounds, someone walked up to meet them. It was a young man that looked fifteen or sixteen, dressed in simple but clean robes. His movements were somewhere between adolescent awkwardness and an attempt at being graceful.
Perry quickly pulled his hood lower and kept his face down, letting Myran do the talking. The two boys clearly knew each other, exchanging greetings before the older boy led them the rest of the way inside.
Despite its size, the temple felt strangely empty. Perry counted only a handful of people moving about their daily tasks. Their footsteps almost echoed against the stone floors, the sound emphasizing the emptiness of the space.
A thin man with steel-gray hair descended the steps before them, his movements were so fluid that he almost seemed to glide. Myran immediately rushed forward and bowed deeply. Perry, uncertain of what the the proper protocol was in this situation, copied Myran's gesture.
"Master, I have come to offer my greeting." Myran's voice sounded sincere and contrite.
"Where is your practice sword, Myran?" the man asked, his voice smooth but commanding.
Myran bowed his head further down. "It was taken, Master Rennin."
"No," Master Rennin corrected. "You allowed it to be taken."
Perry opened his mouth to defend the boy, but the master's sharp glance silenced him. "Only disciples are permitted to speak freely in my temple."
Myran subtly shook his head at him. He reluctantly swallowed his words.
"I apologize, Master," Myran said. "I will do better."
"Indeed you will. Begin by taking up Kai's duties and tending to the donkey while I speak with your guest."
Perry could see Myran wanting to protest, but the boy held pressed his lips together. With another deep bow, he led the donkey away without even a backward glance at Perry.
"Follow me," Master Rennin commanded, turning toward the temple's interior.
Perry considered ignoring him and going with Myran, but since that might get the boy in even more trouble, followed the older man up the steps and into the temple.
An enormous golden disk hung on the wall, its polished surface reflecting what little light filtered through the high windows. In front of it stood an altar, one end held a golden bowl overflowing with coins, while the other displayed a variety of fresh foods — fruits, vegetables, and bread arranged with obvious care.
Master Rennin sat on an ornate chair before the altar and gestured to the floor in front of him. Perry stood there, not really sure what he should do next.
"You may sit," the master said, "and explain how you came to travel with Myran."
"Oh, am I allowed to speak now?" Perry couldn't quite keep the dryness from his tone.
Master Rennin's expression darkened slightly. "I'll allow your ignorance because you do not seem to know our ways."
"Sorry," Perry added quickly.
"I expect no different from a peregrin such as yourself."
Perry's eyebrows rose. "How do you know my name?"
"I do not," Master Rennin replied. "I merely observe that you are not from here." He paused, then added with a slight smile, "Your Highness."
Uneasiness slithered its way down Perry's stomach. After zombies and revenants, he'd hoped for something at least a bit normal. Clearly, his hopes had been in vain.