The Temple of Sealed Voices

ACT I: The World of Silent Gods 

Shion’s steps, though tentative, roared thunderously in the soundless temple. The great structure was dark and impossibly quiet, without so much as a drop of water or a whisper of wind. The chill in the air clung to her skin like a shadow, and the scent of ancient stone, damp and earthy, filled her nostrils. Her hands brushed against the cold, rough surface of the walls as she tried to gauge the dimensions of the building, which seemed to stretch endlessly in the oppressive darkness.“If only I had a light,” she signed to herself. It was that final sign, light, that the world seemed to listen to.

Just as her hand groped around on the wall for stability, a faint glow shot down her arm, to her fingertips, and finally into the walls, igniting several unreadable sigils that spanned long halls. She jumped in surprise and backed away from the wall, staring down at her hands. A thought flickered through her mind: perhaps there existed a latent bond between her movements and this ancient place. She recalled tales of silent priestesses, whose rare souls could communicate with the ethereal powers through their hands, legends she had always thought were mere stories. As if responding to a forgotten connection, the sparkling light wrapped around her fingers again. There was an undeniable resonance with the temple's energy, as if it recognized something within her. Surely, there was no way, right?

Slowly, her fingers moved to create another sign. “Dark.” She touched the wall again, and the silver-white glow of the sigils faded quickly, shrouding her once more in cold darkness.
“Light,” she signed again, a little more confidence flowed through her as she placed her hand on the walls. Her eyes watched as illumination flowed down the halls. A flash of memory surfaced, a tale her grandmother used to whisper at bedtime about ancient temples and their protectors, beings that lived within the stone and guided only those they deemed worthy. Her grandmother had promised her that her silence was an asset that was inherently godlike. Shion had often wondered if this was true, or just a comforting story told to soothe her fears about being different. 

There were times when she felt like an outsider in a world that thrived on social exchange. Yet, here, the silence seemed to speak volumes. Whatever was going on, it felt as if that very myth was pulsing through her fingertips. Deep inside, she felt that her silence was both a curse and a blessing, marking her as unique but also isolating her. The truth was likely to be found somewhere in this temple. Or perhaps this was all a dream; though this hardly seemed possible when she took into consideration the pounding in her head and the tight feeling of anxiety in her chest.

She stood still for what felt like an eternity, willing her body to move forward. Drawing her sweatshirt closer to her frame, she began to walk. Where she was headed, she was unsure. She had yet to see an entrance, which meant she must be in a back room, perhaps.

Shion passed the first of several deity statues, taking in the beautiful, albeit sorrowful, sight. The statue was no more than four inches taller than she, but there was an incredible power emanating from the figure. The god statue depicted a being with delicate features, hair tied into a high ponytail, and robes that left his or her gender a mystery. Intriguingly, this figure lacked a mouth covering, unlike the statues she had seen prior. Could the exposed mouth signify a divine connection, a truth spoken or shared only within these sacred walls? 

Or was it something else entirely? This temple must have been a revered place once, she thought as she passed the proud statues. Maybe it had been a sanctuary or a place of worship for those who came seeking guidance from the gods. It reminded her of the books on her shelves at home, tales of ancient times when gods brushed shoulders with mortals, existing alongside them. And the mortals, ever faithful, sought the wisdom of the gods, regardless of their place in life. Kings and commoners, warlords and children all would seek the guidance of deities who served them.

Every hair, every fold of fabric looked so real. And the eyes of the figure, positioned behind glasses delicately balanced on the deity’s nose, seemed to follow her every move, glinting with a mysterious light. Or perhaps it was the cold hush of the temple walls making her paranoid.She shook her head softly. She needed to find her way out, to find someone who she could communicate with; Shion needed to know where she was and how to get home. She turned quickly, fingertips brushing the stone statue as she did so.

Down one of the temple's halls, there was a large crash and the sound of tumbling stone. Shion's heart pounded wildly in her chest, each beat resonating like a drum in the deathly silence. Crash. Her breath caught, panic gripping her entire body. Breath. Her lungs constricted with fear as if the air itself had become viciously palpable. Run. Her instincts screamed at her, and terror fueled her legs to keep moving, despite the trembling weakness trying to seize them. Sprinting down the winding halls, each turn was a desperate and dizzying gamble as the walls seemed to press in on her. Finally, she stumbled outside, her chest heaving with exertion and dread, into a mystical courtyard that instantly sent her into a daze.

Tomes and scrolls floated freely in the air, suspended but drifting across the early evening sky like autumn foliage. She looked around with childlike wonder, the burning in her legs from running disappeared in an instant as she took in the sights. Though she was long past needing proof, the sight before her affirmed what she had been thinking. She was not home. Not anymore.

“Where am I?” She signed to herself once more. 

That sinking thought passed through her mind and she wondered if she would ever find her way back. After her grandmother had passed, she had not bothered to stay in her home town. She had felt directionless for sometime but she hadn't anticipated feeling this lost. Would anyone even notice that she was gone? Her family had long since stopped looking after her when she decided to explore the world on her own. The list of people that might be looking for her was almost nonexistent. Sure, her professors would notice she was gone, but for how long would they care? Academia had been her refuge, but now felt as distant as the haze of ancient legends whispered in her childhood. She did not belong here, but she felt as though she did not belong there either.