Temple of Cocidius: A Monster Girl Harem Adventure: Book 2 by Maxx Whittaker

Author:Maxx Whittaker [Whittaker, Maxx]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Saving Throw Ink
Published: 2018-10-10T23:00:00+00:00

-The Garden-

“So, how many others are waiting?” Finna asks as we pass into the garden.

“Three. A succubus and an alicorn. Have you crossed paths with either of them before?”

Silence.

“Finna?” I glance back. She isn’t there. Not just invisible; she’s gone. Her door has closed.

“What the-?” No one comes to greet us. Not even the Gardener. As I walk further out into the garden, I can see the change. No terrace, no chambers. The center staircase and double doors are gone. The temple’s inner ring is smooth, unscalable, impenetrable white stone. It should be afternoon according to the Gardener’s timekeeper, but the sun is noon-bright in a blue sky, turning the stone blinding.

No voices, no shapes. “Hello?” I pass where the terrace should be. “Meridiana? Freya? Anyone?”

Pass the south side of the temple, where the second four chambers should be.

Blank and empty.

I wander into the grove’s cool, loamy shade. Vines trail thick tree trunks and flowering bushes in shades of pink, red, and purple dot the glade, full blossomed and well kept. In the center, kissed by a shaft of sunlight, in a grassy mound. Atop it sits a stone reading stand.

If I came here another time, I feel this would all be different. It has a surreal impermanence.

The stand holds a single piece of rough paper.

Sacrifico.

It’s written in bold ink across the center of the page.

The thing you fear most. I hear Finna’s caution.

To lose everything. I lost everything before I came here and now it feels I’ve lost again.

I take out the astratempus. Day still passes. Or night; whatever time it really is. The gold arrow has moved a few notches. A few hours left before the day ends, and so much temptation to give up. If time is passing, it means I haven’t completed the day’s trials. My soul still hangs in the balance.

I have to figure this out.

Circling the wall again, I see a shadow I didn’t before; maybe because the sun has changed. A smooth stone hand extends from the wall, made of the same white stone. All the fingers are gently retracted but one. It seems to point at the ground. Nothing. Lush green grass and a cluster of small amethyst flowers. I rake through them. Poke the cool soil. No answers.

At a loss, I circle further up, to where the staircase stood. A hand extends, flat and palm up.

I don’t bother checking anywhere else. The next one should be in the center of the south wall; it is. This hand faces up, fingers flexed in a half-closed fist.

At the east wall, a graceful hand pinches at nothing, thumb and forefinger barely parted.

Now that I’ve seen all four I return to the glade. Nothing has changed. The parchment sits undisturbed. Sacrifico. My only clue.

I struggle with the shape of each hand. Blood? My life would be a sacrifice. Potions? The Gardener already deprived me of a few and I’ve managed anyhow. Herbs? What?

Making my way back to the first hand, I think hard on the parchment and the hand’s posture.

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