“You’re remarkably unfazed by my presence, by my existence even…” the witch’s calm voice disturbing you from casting avaricious eyes over the maps. “Usually strangers are either running away… or begging me not to curse them.”
“Sure…” you paused “I guess you could just say I-“
“You don’t believe I am what I say I am. You fashion yourself a woman of reason…” the witch chuckled, stirring her tea with an antique spoon. You shuddered, as she voiced the thoughts going through your own mind just as you thought them.
“Skepticism is a virtue, stranger, but it does make the mind more orderly, and therefore easier to divine.” She remarked.
“You might not actually be reading my mind though-“
“You’re right, I’m not half bad at cold reading, but that’s not what I’m doing now, dear. Neither am I mind reading. The mind is not an open book, its pages bared for any passerby to read. It’s a labyrinth. A maze full of its own passages and hidden secrets… and no end to reach.”
The witch mused in the silence. “Much like you yourself, treasure hunter. I see here you’ve titled yourself archaeologist, but I see no tenure, no school or agency backing you…” she trails off with a smirk. “No permit to be digging here. Tut tut, stranger.”
You fumbled over your words, trying to formulate a response. She wasn’t lying, she really was in your head. Instinctively, you reached up to cover your ears by cupping your hands over them, knowing deep down it wouldn’t help you much with keeping her out.
“Luckily for you, treasure hunter, it’s no concern of mine who says you should be here or not, for this is my domain after all, not the suits outside the woods in their towers of glass and steel.” She stepped forward, cupping your cheek in a comforting, almost tender gesture. “And you have respected my hospitality by being a grateful and thoughtful guest. I shall honor my gift to you, and then some.”
She turns her crimson gaze to the maps, following your eyes. “Ahh… the Amazon. You seek to emulate those heroes of yours… having the adventure and musique of raiding forgotten temples deep in the steamy jungle… very well, I shall indulge your fantasy. It won’t even cost you a plane ticket or anything.”
Just as you were about to question, you felt a wave of wind batter your body and toss you about in a sudden tempest, you squeeze your eyes shut as the bitter wind lifts you off your feet. For a moment, you experienced true weightlessness as the witch managed to lift you off your feet with her magic. Terrified, you didn’t open your eyes again until you felt your feet touch down on solid ground again. You opened your eyes to a lush canopy of the deepest green you’ve ever seen, you felt the sticky humidity and already the sweat heading on your brow, your legs, your arms. The melodic sounds of colorful exotic birds and the distant howling of a pack monkeys all completed the rainforest atmosphere.
All that was secondary though to the massive stepped ziggurat, about forty feet high, creeping over the tops of the highest trees. It’s ancient stones smelled of a recent rain and were slick with moss growing on the ancient steps leading to the sanctuary at the zenith. With a careful step, you found yourself able to navigate you way up with just a bit of caution and dexterity. You were unsure why you were heading this way, or if it was the wisest idea. But the thought occurred to you that if the witch stranded you, your survival hinged on locating high ground and shelter, which the temple offered both of. Moreover, if the witch sentenced you here, she might be watching, and it might not be smart to displease her either.
Reaching the top of the temple, lit by the tropical noonday sun, your eyes widen to a sight of wonder and horror. Jungle from horizon to horizon in every direction. On the one hand, you couldn’t help but gasp in wonder at such beautiful and untouched nature. On the other, your hopes for rescue out here were vanishingly small.
Still, you also saw another wonder of a far more man made variety. Sitting in the middle of the altar room atop the pyramid, you set your eyes upon a room painted wall to wall with depictions of some manner of myth or legend. Considering their age, the fact that the pigments remain intact on those walls in this climate was miraculous. The panels depicted a young woman, born in a time of unprecedented drought, she watched the ancient rainforest which fed her people slowly wither, and her people starving with it. In an effort to placate some spurned goddess, she offered herself as her champion in restoring vibrancy to the foliage. Accepting her service, she was merged in body with that of a large tropical flower, connecting her spirit with the land, she was able to nurture the life in the jungle with the power of the gods. Honoring her service, this temple was built around her, where her descendants would come to make offerings in her name.
One such offering had outlasted the people who once worshipped here. A small idol of the plant woman crafted of solid gold, her nude body emerging from the petals of a large flower, one hand stretched outward holding the branch of a newly budding tree, her other hand running through her long shining hair. Overcome by the beauty of the thing, you reached out and touched the relic…