A temple, shrouded in darkness and illuminated by the glow of a crimson sun, sat atop a towering mountain. The peak of the temple—a spiked pillar rising from the centre above the pyramid-shaped roof—was so tall that it appeared to touch the blood-red sun. The sharp point glimmered and shone with a scarlet glow.

The temple was both tall and wide, rising majestically and ominously like a structure made of a titan's flesh and bones. Large stairs made of obsidian descended from the mountainside to the base of the temple, where two twisted, spiked pillars of shadow flanked the entrance. The points of these pillars glistened crimson as faint drops of scarlet blood dripped down slowly.

At the top of the stairs, between the pillars, stood a massive hall with a glimmering ruby floor. More twisted shadow pillars lined the sides of this vast space, which seemed to extend endlessly like a river of blood. The temple was enormous, featuring a towering pyramid roof filled with shadows and deep hollows darker than the night itself. The roof resembled a peak with a small opening that seemed to absorb the darkness around it, gradually releasing it below to create the Hollow Temple—a temple of hollows, shadows, blood, and darkness.

This temple stood tall and massive, occupying the entire summit of the mountain. Its base was supported by pillars of shadow, dripping with scarlet blood. The air surrounding the temple was eerie, cold, and dark, with faint winds blowing as the shadows and hollows danced in the crimson glow.

In its depths, beyond its hall of ruby, lay a shrine shrouded in shadows. The air here was thick with an unnerving stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures. The shrine itself was a crumbling relic, its stone walls covered in dark, creeping vines that seemed to slither and coil like snakes. Faded and eerie carvings depicted creatures with human-like bodies clashing with massive weapons, trampling the tall mountains below and drinking from the vast seas adorning the walls.

A narrow, moss-covered path led to the shrine’s entrance, flanked by two gnarled crimson trees whose twisted branches reached out like skeletal fingers. Inside, the shrine was dimly lit by the faint light seeping through many holes cut above. Shadows danced in the flickering light, creating fleeting, ghostly shapes that appeared to move on their own.

At the centre of this hollowed place stood an altar, carved from obsidian and etched with ancient runes. Atop the altar rested a single, unnerving artifact: an eye, pure ruby, open and watching. The eye gleamed with an eerie, malevolent intelligence, its crimson hue casting a red glow across the chamber.

At the base of the shrine, before the ruby eye, Fallen lay, cradling his body as he felt the chilling glow of the ruby eye and blood sun against his pale skin. The atmosphere was oppressive, as if the very walls of the shrine were alive and breathing, watching Fallen and waiting for him to move. His body was bathed in the blood-light. He could feel all his joints aching as he groaned and grunted, struggling to open his eyes as they stung. Thick clouds of steam escaped his mouth with every breath as he winced on the cold floor.

“Arg,” he grunted as he leaned over, clutching his chest, breathing heavily as cold sweat dripped down his pale face, which appeared more sunken, with darker, larger bags beneath his puffy eyes. He could feel his heart racing, his eyes wide open, and his breath heavy.

‘I… I made it,’ he frantically repeated as tears began to well in his eyes. His chapped lips quivered as he clenched his fists. The pain he felt when those shadows consumed him echoed in his mind before he slammed both his fists on the obsidian floor.

“AHHHHH!!” he screamed as he broke down. Pain, frustration, and confusion—he still felt all those emotions, and now, here he was, in a place he didn’t recognize. Here he was, the last of his people… and their only hope… but what if he wasn’t? What if he failed and became Vulgar’s servant? That would mean his people… his moon, they would all cease… and he would have nothing. What if Vulgar… what if he was lying? What if he didn’t keep their deal?

And what if… what if all of this—Vulgar, the moving shadows, the darkness… what if all of this… is just his imagination? What if he relapsed back into drugs without even realizing it? What if he’s gone crazy? He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled hard as panic lined his features. His breaths quickened, and his heart raced fast, beating hard and uncontrollably in his chest.

‘What if none of this is real?’ Tears fell from his eyes as the doubt gnawed at him.