A lonely figure in a dark cloak with a hood sat at the frozen-through entrance to an ancient and bizarre building, from the middle of which a tapered tower proudly rose, passing through the airly arches of its tiny upper floor jets of skies turned into stardust.
Above the gray entrance with heavy doors carved of metal and wood, three majestic figures of stone demons sat motionlessly on a small canopy. Each of them looked like a man with the features of a bat, but two of them kept just behind their leader, carved from a snow-white stone of unknown kind. The white demon, spreading its webbed wings, looked menacingly down at anyone entering the abode of the unknown forces.
It seemed that this blizzard lasted forever. The sentry, tightly covered in his clothes against a merciless snowstorm, tirelessly held the invisible horizon in the attention of his keen eyes, much like Atlas holds the sky on his shoulders. He was waiting.
Long time ago, his brothers went hunting, promising to return to the beginning of the morning service. But the years passed, the centuries flown away, and the friendly hum of their voices never appeared in the distance. The silent guard waited patiently for them, praying to the ancient Gods for their souls. It was many years since gray twilight descended upon the world, bringing with it an endless snowstorm.
The waiting one was in thought. During this time, many different pictures managed to pass through his tired mind: from visions of enemies who attacked his brothers and buried them in unknown lands, to the end of the world, inevitably approaching the temple from the other end of the earth, where brave hunters disappeared without a trace.
The passage of time has curled the mind of the sentry into a tight tangle of repetitive thoughts. When the visions disappeared, fears took their place. Gradually, they turned into new pictures, pulling him to the bottom of mind-wrenching illusions. At some point, he reached the level at which he desperately wanted to die to end his mental suffering…
But suddenly, realizing the falsehood of his excogitation, the lone guard cut off all these terrible interweavings in one stroke:
“All be damned!”
He no longer knew if he was living or dead. For so many centuries the wait had lasted, poisoning his mind, that there was no more excuse for further delays. Determined, the silhouette in a hooded cloak broke off the spot he had stood on for so long, leaving behind a deep trace in the frozen wall.
Melting the centuries-old snow in front of him with the gesture of his right hand, the guard reached the massive doors of the temple and carefully opened them. Measured echoes of footsteps were beating in the ancient walls, like a pulse, cutting a standing cold, blowing frost from incomprehensible symbols on the floor. A man in a cloak stopped at the central statue of a flying demon in the hall and prayed to it. He made a decision.
Uttering in a quiet voice long-forgotten words – one by one – he lit all the lamps in this ancient refuge of the Force. Blue flames of hot fire illuminated the orphaned walls of the temple. A single soul, though it was far beyond his strength, has decided to take on the task of the service that connects heavens to this world.
The lone guard slowly climbed up the spiral staircase leading to the top of the tower. He knew there was no other way but this one. Once again facing the storm, he lit the main fire of the temple. Breaking out of the liquid mixture in a huge stone bowl, a roaring blue flame burst through the snow wall of the blizzard with its light, taming the storm.
Upon returning to the hall, the man in the cloak knelt before the main statue of the winged deity and continued his prayer. The powers were leaving him, but he felt an invisible stream flowing through him to heaven. Alone, he desperately continued the service, designed for six…
His body hardly held him, his speech began to slur. The world had faded, darkened, and quieted, preparing for the death of the last servant of the temple, when suddenly familiar voices and footsteps were heard behind him. Turning around and still praying, the guard saw his lost brothers in the doorway. Immediately his voice stopped and he jumped to his feet, giving it his last strength.
The torn cloaks and tormented faces of pale-skinned people greeted him with silent joy. At once his feet refused to hold him, and he fell to his knees, deeply astonished; trying to figure out where his brothers had been for so long. But none of them had the strength to utter even one word.
And then he realized…
