Dream nodded in agreement. "There are a few more like Astram out there, a few of them actually farther ahead in terms of technology and development. Here, the people have maintained a certain state for thousands of years. They've been like this for a very long time."
"Do they not feel the need for progress?" I asked.
"Do you not feel the need to set foot inside the temple, already?" Nightmare said, a sarcastic grin slitting his face.
"After you, sir," I retorted. "How am I supposed to be the first one to go in?"
Dream giggled. "I take it we all feel it, then. The dread oozing out of this place."
"What is it?" I sighed.
Inside, there wasn't much to be seen. The lights were dim, barely glowing on wall-mounted torches, blue with orange wisps. Shadows stretched across the floor, but I could still make out a large statue in the middle of the temple. Its face wasn't visible, but even so, its eyes sought to haunt me.
"Something awful happened here," Dream said. "Not to the living, but to one of our own. A Reaper bled here."
"Whoa," I blurted. "How can a Reaper bleed?!"
"Old magic. Death magic," Nightmare replied. "We can feel our brother's presence, but even you can sense his suffering."
Bracing myself, I sucked in a breath and finally moved, taking the first steps inside the temple. Darkness briefly enveloped me as I passed between two of the pillars, the statue in the middle revealing itself. It was odd that barely anything could be seen from the outside. As soon as I walked into the shadows, everything seemed to come to light—albeit a soft one.
"Oh, snap." Dream chuckled. "That's him!"
"What?" I asked, staring at the statue.
It was the figure of a man sitting on a throne, in what looked like an elegant tunic, a sculpted pocket watch hanging from his chest pocket. His hair was combed back, his eyes hollowed out. His long fingers spread like a spider's legs over the armrests. And he seemed to be smiling.
Nightmare gasped. "They made a statue in his likeness. If you think Death will be pissed about my sister and me, wait till she hears that the Time Master allowed himself to be worshipped by a bunch of mortals!"
"Now that I look back, our dream munchies are nothing compared to his effigy. We might get a slap on the wrist, at best," Dream added.
"He's their god?" I managed, leaning forward to check the symbols engraved into the statue's square, solid base. I moved my fingers across each letter, understanding the text along the way. "Yes, he is. The Lord of Time, they call him."
Dream and Nightmare circled the statue, their scythes out and glowing intermittently as they moved. They looked like shadows, mere wisps that hovered across the floors, moving graciously and enacting a series of spells designed to connect them to the Time Master.
"Any sign of him, beyond what you've been sensing?" I asked.
The statue text was pretty specific in terms of the locals' mythology. One day, the Lord of Time was said to have stepped down from the heavens, using his power to stop entire wars and bring peace to the nations of Astram. The people of Astram considered him to be a liberator of sorts.
Walking away from the statue, I checked the temple's interior walls next. Bas-reliefs covered the upper half, while more writings were carved into the bottom half.
"He was here recently enough," Nightmare said.
"Another Reaper attacked him. Hurt him deeply. One of ours," Dream concluded, giving me a worried look.
It didn't take long for me to put two and two together. "You mean to tell me the Spirit Bender is behind Time's disappearance, too?"
"Does it not make sense?" Nightmare murmured, picking up a broken gemstone from the floor, where it had been wedged between two of the base's stones. He frowned, cautiously sniffing it. "This was his. It fell from his watch."
"His watch," I repeated, hoping he'd clarify his statement.
"His accoutrement, shall we call it?" Dream said. "They call him the Time Master, Kelara. Naturally, a tool of time measurement is his favorite accessory. A pocket watch, to be specific, with the lid made of rare blue gold and covered in precious, unique gemstones. See?" She pointed to the sculpture's pocket watch. "That, right there. It's a real thing. He spent eons foraging through the darkest corners of the universe in search of the perfect stones for it."
"And this is one of them. Well, it was. No longer, clearly," Nightmare said.
The temple texts spoke of the Time Master having spent a considerable amount of time on Astram. It irked me that he'd taken such liberties, against every single rule that Death had set for us on the matter.
"He wasn't just worshipped here. He lived on Astram for centuries. They brought him offerings. They sought his council. He made and broke empires during that time. It's so illegal," I mumbled.
"That aside, would you like to know what happened to him and where he went?" Nightmare replied dryly, one eyebrow raised in contempt.
"It's what we came all the way here for," I said, trying to set aside my dismay regarding the First Tenners' behavior. It was disrespectful to Death, their maker, the way they'd been behaving. The First Ten were nothing like the rest of us, indeed. They were spoiled little children who did whatever they wanted, thinking there would be no consequences whatsoever, while we toiled and struggled to stay within the lines, fearful of disturbing the balance between the living and the dead.
We needed to bring law and order back, but we couldn't until all the First Tenners were reunited, and until the Spirit Bender was punished for his atrocious deeds.
Nightmare pressed the chipped gemstone against his scythe's blade, repeating the tracking spell he'd learned from the Soul Crusher hours earlier. "Well, I'm a quick learner," he said upon noticing my befuddled expression. "And we finally have something physical of Time. This puts us ahead of the game."
"He left it on purpose. You know that, right?" Dream replied, staring at him. He nodded. "The Spirit Bender came for him. His motive… I'm not sure, but I'm willing to bet it's Death and Hermessi related, still. The Time Master probably told him to go screw himself."
"A fight ensued. Time was injured. Perhaps Spirit took him," Nightmare continued.
Two priests crossed the room, their hands hidden in their long sleeves and their heads covered in golden wreaths. They did not see or hear us, but I could almost feel the hairs on their arms raising. They did sense us. For a moment, the two stopped by the statue, gazing up at their Lord of Time.
"Do you think he's ever coming back?" one of them asked.
The elder priest shrugged. "I don't know. But our people must be made to believe that he will return, someday. By the time it becomes clear that he won't, all those who last saw him for themselves will be dead and buried. Including you and me."
"I still don't understand what happened," the younger priest said, clearly disappointed.
