The temple looms around you like a ruin of forgotten time, its once-pristine columns cracked and entwined with ivy. The air feels thick, suffused with heat that doesn't belong in the shade of these marble giants. You shift on the dusty stone floor, leaning back against a fallen column, but the oppressive warmth clings to you, sticking like a second skin. Sweat beads on your forehead and trails down your neck, dampening your already soaked shirt.
You tug at the collar, trying to find relief, but there’s none to be had. The silence of the temple presses in—no birdsong, no wind, just the steady hum of cicadas somewhere far away. Even the shadows seem fevered, shimmering faintly as if the sun’s touch lingers there too.
You peel your shirt off, casting it aside without a second thought. The heat has stolen your modesty, reduced you to a desperate animal seeking solace. The cool stone beneath your feet should provide relief, but it doesn’t. It burns as if it, too, has been seared by an unseen fire. Your pants are next, thrown down with a huff of frustration. But even stripped to nothing, the heat continues to rise.
Your skin tingles. At first, it feels like the flush of exertion, but soon, it deepens into something stranger—something almost electric. You glance down at your hands. The lines of your palms seem sharper, your nails oddly clean and symmetrical, as though freshly manicured. Your skin glows faintly in the temple’s dim light, the olive tone richer than you remember. You tell yourself it’s a trick of the heat, the sweat. But deep down, you know something is shifting.
You step forward, toward the temple’s entrance. The air outside must be cooler—it has to be. Your bare feet make no sound on the stone floor as you walk, the temple’s silence amplifying your every breath, every heartbeat. As you pass the fallen pieces of columns and the faded frescoes, you notice something strange: your discarded clothing is gone. No shirt, no pants, no shoes. Only empty space where they should have been. The thought flickers in your mind and vanishes just as quickly. The heat has dulled your curiosity, left you with only one purpose: escape.
The temple opens up to a clearing, the bright sunlight almost blinding after the dim interior. The warmth here is no different. If anything, it’s worse, the sun searing your bare shoulders and chest. But in the distance, you spot salvation—a lake. Its surface glimmers like molten silver, bordered by reeds that sway lazily in the heat.
You stumble toward it, the earth underfoot dry and cracked. Each step seems to sap your strength, your legs heavier than they should be. The reeds rustle as you approach, parting to reveal the lake’s edge. You don’t hesitate. You wade in, the water lapping at your ankles, your knees, your thighs. It’s cool, blissfully so, and you sink into it with a sigh of relief.
The lake embraces you, pulling you deeper. The heat recedes at last, leaving only the cool caress of water on your skin. You close your eyes and let yourself float, the tension in your muscles easing as you drift. But something brushes against your leg, and your eyes snap open.
You glance down, expecting to see a fish or a clump of weeds. Instead, you see your own reflection in the rippling water. It’s you, and yet it isn’t. Your features have softened, your jawline sharper, your cheekbones more pronounced. Your hair—wasn’t it shorter?—now falls in dark, curling waves around your shoulders. You blink, reaching up to touch your face, but the reflection remains unchanged.
The tingling sensation returns, spreading across your body. It’s not unpleasant—if anything, it feels…right. You watch as your limbs seem to lengthen, your muscles taking on a lithe, sculpted quality that feels eerily familiar, like seeing a statue come to life. The realization dawns slowly, creeping into your mind like a whisper: you are becoming something else. Something ancient. Something divine.
You stumble out of the water, the reeds clutching at your legs as if trying to pull you back. The air feels different now, less oppressive but no cooler. It carries a faint, sweet scent, like crushed herbs and wildflowers. You glance down at your hands again. They are undeniably beautiful, the fingers long and graceful, the nails shining as though polished.
Panic bubbles up inside you, but it’s quickly smothered by a strange sense of calm. The changes feel inevitable, like the turning of the seasons or the tide. You reach for a nearby branch to steady yourself, but it crumbles into dust at your touch. The bark seems to melt into the air, vanishing before it hits the ground. You back away, your footsteps light and soundless on the earth.
Your gaze falls on the clearing around you. The grasses seem taller, greener, swaying as though bowing to your presence. The flowers that dot the landscape bloom brighter, their petals unfurling as you pass. Even the air seems alive, humming faintly with energy. You realize, with a start, that the heat hasn’t vanished. It’s emanating from you, radiating outward in waves that stir the world around you.
The temple looms in the distance, a silent sentinel watching over your transformation. You glance back at it, half-expecting to see the clothing you left behind—or the person you used to be. But the doorway is empty, shadowed and still. The temple has taken what it wanted, leaving you to wander the clearing in your new form.
You kneel by the lake’s edge, staring at your reflection again. The face that stares back is otherworldly, its beauty sharp and almost cruel. Your eyes are a deep, molten gold, their gaze piercing and unreadable. Your skin gleams like polished marble, every pore and imperfection smoothed away. Even your posture has changed, your every movement graceful and deliberate.
A part of you wants to run, to flee into the forest and hide from whatever you’ve become. But the thought is fleeting, drowned out by a deeper instinct—a pull that feels ancient and unyielding. The lake, the temple, the clearing—they all seem to bow to your presence, as though recognizing you as their rightful master.
You stand, the water cascading off your body in sparkling rivulets. The sun catches on your skin, and for a moment, you seem to glow. The heat no longer bothers you. It feels natural now, an extension of yourself. You turn back toward the temple, your steps steady and purposeful.
The temple greets you with the same silence as before, but it feels different now. It’s not empty—it’s waiting. You step inside, the shadows folding around you like a cloak. The air hums with energy, and you realize that you’re no longer seeking relief from the heat. You’ve become it, a vessel for something greater, something ancient.
As you move deeper into the temple, the tingling sensation spreads one last time, settling into your very bones. You reach the center of the ruin, where a pedestal stands surrounded by crumbled statues. One of them catches your eye—a figure draped in flowing robes, their features hauntingly similar to your own. You reach out, brushing your fingers against the marble, and the statue seems to sigh, its surface warming under your touch.
The transformation is complete. You are no longer the person who entered this place, seeking refuge from the heat. You are part of the temple now, part of the land. The heat doesn’t oppress you anymore—it worships you, radiating from your body in waves that ripple through the air. The temple hums around you, a low, resonant sound that seems to echo in your very soul.
You smile. The lake, the clearing, the temple—they are yours now, and you are theirs.