The sun hung low in the sky, but it mattered not: precious few of its golden rays pierced the net of intertwined branches over Wander's head, and fewer still reached the autumnal carpet of leaves strewn in the path of his mount.
Through umbral glade, frolicking streams, and gloomy tunnel caves did Wander journey, upon the back of the dark horse Agro.
Fruit trees did grow there in the quiet nook of the lonely region, from seeds planted long ago, in the grounds surrounding the minor replica of the Shrine of Worship; else, if not planted, perhaps during brief sojourn the seeds fell from ancient pilgrims' lips.
They existed for hungry Wander to partake, their flesh red-gold and enticing; the lowest-hanging of this harlot fruit all but gifted themselves to his outstretched hand, stained though it was with the black blood of the Colossi.
Wander bit into the fruit's flesh and devoured it, closing his eyes and savoring its sweet juices.
The fruit was not enough, however; nay, it merely whet his appetite after so much exertion.
The son of a hunter needed meat to keep the thews of his limbs strong; but where was such game to be found in this vast and desolate land?
He had not seen hide nor hair of living beast since he had come to the Forbidden Lands, at least none that roamed the earth; he wondered if he should try for the hawk that constantly circled overhead.
By chance he found a creature spying down at him from a ledge of the pilgrim's shrine: a black lizard, like an elongated frog, with dark wet eyes and a tail of glowing white.
Wander seized the creature with his hand; it wriggled away from him, detaching from its tail and leaving the appendage still twitching within Wander's grasp.
Without a moment's hesitation, Wander brought the tail to his lips and sank his teeth into the flesh like a ravenous wolf; however Wander was man, not beast, and he was unaccustomed to the taste of raw meat.
Despite the gnawing of his stomach, he resolved to take respite in the glow of that most basic, founding element of civilization: a bounded cooking-fire, ringed with stones.
He speared the lizard's tail with a simple wooden cooking-spit, and held it over the flames to cook; the juices hissed, but did not brown or change color.
Wander ate it with all the more pleasure, as he had to wait longer for it; it invigorated him at once, giving him the stamina to continue his quest.
Anon they came upon a shadowed lagoon; in the middle of this lagoon was an island, and upon the island, against the rock cliff, was a temple in the style of a pagoda.
Wander set sandaled feet in the shallow, clear water, and marveled at its crystalline beauty; however, the mud and grime from those feet and sandals blackened the waters with smoke-like plumes with every step.
He looked into the darkness of the temple entrance; in his mind, Wander thought back to that night, so many nights ago, when he entered a temple of a different sort…
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The temple of his village had been guarded by two sentries, day and night, their torches blazing.
'Tis why he had to go around, and climb.
A sky of countless glittering stars and a full moon bore witness witness to his trespass, as he scaled the stone walls of the stone tower.
There were few good handholds to grip in the masonry, but there was enough; the foliage that had been let to grow across the stones aided him as well. It would later occur to Wander that this was a most fortuitous practice for the battles to come.
Wander climbed in through the window skylight, the one that aligned at auspicious times with the heavenly bodies, and made his way within.
The tower was too tall for him to let himself fall; thus was he forced to scale the interior wall, impeded by the relics which hung there.
Fearsome images there were, both woven and engraven and marked with paint: all about were the depictions of a great horned shadow, flanked by an army of pale humans risen from their tombs.
Masks there were also, the carved faces of spirits and demons, which the clerics wore to disguise themselves and to hide their human terror, lest the true creatures should perchance come upon them.
Wander could see the glow of the torches held by the tower sentries flicker across the temple floor; so preoccupied was he in watching them that he was less careful in his descent, and with a misplaced hand made contact with a wooden mask.
The jostled mask made a hollow sound against the stone wall upon which it hung; sure Wander was that he was now to be caught by the sentries, and dragged from the tower temple in shame.
But a yawn from one of the guards set his mind at ease: these lowest-level initiates were half asleep, and not been alerted to the sound of his mishap.
His feet reached the flagstone floor with nary a sound, only the soft scraping of sandal leather against the dust; no movement did he see from the guards. With exhilaration he dared to hope that he might yet accomplish his goal and slip away, unnoticed.
The object of his desire was a sword: yea, the very same ancient sword that would grant passage through the front gate of the Forbidden Lands, the very weapon he would plunge into the magical hearts of the Colossi to slay them.
The sword lay in repose upon a pedestal, gleaming coldly in the moonlight that it was too far in shadow to reflect; yet it reflected the nearer red-gold torchlight not at all.
With trembling fingers he lifted the blade, and in the unsullied sheen stared at his own mirrored face; it was full of pale and wide-eyed terror.
The blade hummed with a coursing power: it was no simple object crafted for the crude designs of man, but a living thing, with a spirit all its own.
It seemed to Wander a sacrilege to place the celestial blade inside the rough and rudimentary sheathe he wore for the purposes of keeping it close, but it could not be helped; he needed both his hands to climb out the way he had come.
And so he did, and without incident; though Wander's blood pumped within his chest and ears hard and loud, enough to shake him with every beating, and surely loud enough to alert any who were awake at this hour, Wander went unhindered.
The gods had seen, and they had done not but to turn their backs; perhaps they did not care so much about the relics falling into mortal hands as did Lord Emon.
Or so the boy fervently hoped, as he stole away into the night.
That was many moons ago.
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Now, in the present, Wander let the horse Agro return to the campfire, for Agro would not go into the earth willingly; and thus, alone, Wander entered the temple of the Forbidden Lands.
The village temple had been built upon the ground, reaching toward the sky with piled stones; this temple, on the contrary, descended many tiers into the earth.
The village temple had been small in circumference: a ring of men could have stood around the central pedestal of the sword, and no more; this temple's stepped and level pathways were several men wide.
Enormous braziers, set upon stone pedestals that stood in hollow recesses, lit and lined the hallway walls.
Wander gazed at the braziers with wonderment: who was keeping the braziers lit? Who was supplying them with the wooden kindling they required as fuel?
His query was answered when he approached a dying brazier; a stick of wood fell from above, and landed within the flame of the metal basin.
Looking up he saw eyes, already glowing red-gold with Colossi anger at Wander's trespass, in the darkness of a balcony.
The silhouetted foe leapt down to Wander's level.
'Twas smaller than the previous five of its kin, but larger still than any creature encountered by Wander before he set foot in the Forbidden Lands, and shook the floor of the temple with its weight.
It prowled about on fibrous paws, ever facing Wander, with a low and rumbling growl of menace.
It was a bestial thing, shaped in the likeness of a great lion with the curving tusks of a wild boar, yet larger than either creature; stone plates of armor were fastened across the hide of its back.
Celosia its name was, and it was the keeper of the fire.
With terrifying agility the Colossus charged at Wander, who could do naught but to lie prone on the ground and let the monster rampage over him; the beast's coarse underbelly scraped him as it passed.
Momentum carried it directly into a brazier, knocking loose from the iron basin the bit of wood kindling that it, itself, had most recently placed within.
The stick flamed upon the floor; Celosia startled and leapt, fearful of its scorching heat.
Verily did Wander seize upon the opportunity to grasp up this ready torch, aiming the burning thing at the quaking, affrighted cat.
Celosia backed away from the fiery glow, into the shadows; its instinctual duty was to feed the flames, but not with its own body.
Wander slowly marched upon Celosia, forcing it to retreat further still into the dark; joyous was he at having found a way to keep the beast at bay.
But lo, the torch's flame was not everlasting, sputtering and smoldering out; in the darkness, Wander was overcome with dread.
A low rumble; rocks scraping together in an earthen throat.
And within the next moment, he was overcome with Celosia's renewed and snarling onslaught.
Fast did Wander run for the nearest lit brazier; yea, as fast as his strong and nimble legs could carry him.
The four stone paws pounded the floor behind him; he did not believe he would survive a successful charge, nor would his ruse of lying down work a second time.
Wander dove past the pedestal, upon which sat the brazier that was his aim; but ere he was able to attain full safety betwixt pedestal and wall, Celosia with stone claws tore bloody gashes into his leg.
Sharply did Wander suck in air, pulling his wounded limb into the recess behind the pedestal stone.
Into the fiery brazier he dipped his stick, lighting the torch anew, and struck the Colossus full upon it offending paw; the flame singed the fur with sizzling fury, and the great cat withdrew with a cry of pain.
Armed again with the torch Wander emerged, and no time did he waste: he ran at Celosia full force, brandishing the torch in wide and glowing arcs.
Back, back he forced Celosia, to the balcony of their current temple tier, where no railing prevented a long and lethal fall to the next.
With its clawed hindlegs Celosia found the sheer edge, and discovered it could retreat no more.
The temple guardian looked between the fall of doom, the flame, and Wander, desperate… but if it desired mercy, in Wander it would find none.
Wander cried out and charged at Celosia, with the torch held out before him; yet the beast beheld his eyes, more full of fire than the flame held in his hand.
Celosia recoiled back, and its hind-paws slipped; it tumbled off the balcony ledge.
Hard did Celosia fall upon the stone floor below, enough to crack and cleave its armor in twain; the pieces fell asunder, revealing a brightly glowing sigil.
Wander tossed aside the torch and drew the sword; he leapt down upon the prone creature's sigil, plunging his sword within.
Black blood gushed forth; Wander sat down and closed his eyes, as if in prayer, waiting for the tendrils to come.
The tendrils of darkness he absorbed, but they did not bring unconsciousness as before; slowly, he opened his eyes.
Nothing had changed; it seemed he was building an immunity to the darkness.
"Wander…" whispered Mono's voice, from the plane unseen and unknowable to mortals. "Wander, where have you gone?"
"I am here, Mono," he intoned in a murmur. He gazed upward, and lo he saw her, standing as a flickering mirage in the light of the abandoned torch. "You are the one who is gone. But not for much longer."
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On this new lower level he found a wide pillar-shaft, lit with moonlight from a skylight aperture above; it had gaps that served as doorways, and was ringed with windows.
Peering past a doorway gap, he found that the grounds of a courtyard lay still further below, fashioned circular in the way of an arena: and in the grass of the courtyard, the giant lizard Colossus waited, its legs glowing with sigil-marks.
Kuromori was its name. It stared with blue eyes at the green sward, unaware of Wander's presence.
Like shooting a lizard in a pail, thought Wander grimly, as he drew his bow. He maneuvered behind a window, nocked an arrow, and let it fly.
His aim was true; but ere the arrow reached the lizard's targeted back leg, Kuromori's prodigious tail swatted it easily from the air.
Kuromori stared at him with red-gold eyes; with frightening speed it turned and ran up the wall of the courtyard.
It spat projectiles of burning fire at Wander, and Kuromori's aim rivalled Wander's own: it shot directly through the window, missing Wander only just due to his timely sidestep, and melting stone where he once stood.
Wander ran.
Kuromori shot its projectiles through every window; such was the speed and dexterity of Kuromori that Wander kept ahead of it by only a pace.
Wander found a doorway, and used it to climb to the tier below.
Kuromori searched: it thought him still on the upper tier, hiding from its sight.
Wander let loose another arrow, hitting one of Kuromori's glowing legs.
The leg spewed black blood, and the veins of the sigil ceased to glow; the clawed foot detached.
Kuromori's response was instant, a blast of fire aimed at Wander.
Wander dodged and ran… toward Kuromori.
Kuromori had not expected this, nor did it expect a sword thrust between the bars of a window to stab its hind foot.
The blade sank deep.
The magic, emanating from the sigil, which allowed the creature's leg to adhere to the stone wall was gone; two out of four legs now hung limp.
The remaining two legs were not enough for Kuromori to retain its hold, and it tumbled backward.
Wander was pulled, by means of the sword lodged deep in Kuromori's leg, through the window.
Kuromori landed upon its back in the courtyard grass, with Wander atop its belly.
In one fell, arcing sweep of the ancient blade the sigils of the remaining legs were slashed, and black blood was released from the wounds.
Wander, standing upon the fallen colossus, was drenched in that blood.
Black tendrils rose up from all four legs, and cocooned a stoically emotionless Wander in darkness.
The blue eye-lights of the lizard-like Colossus dimmed.
XXX
When Wander emerged from the bowels of the pagoda temple, he saw that it was night.
He returned to Agro, who rested in the warmth of the abandoned campfire as it strove valiantly against the chill night air.
Agro startled when she saw him, for at first she knew him not: his once-reddish hair was now dark, his skin was pale as death, and his eyes had become a cold grey-blue.
"Agro. Come." His force was hard-edged, and brooked no argument.
Agro obeyed, rising; as she did, she noticed that Wander now had seven distinct shadows trailing him in the flickering firelight.
As the shadows crossed the path of the fire, it was snuffed out.