We stepped into the temple. As much as I would have enjoyed laughing and drinking wine with my friends, to commemorate my new year, this too, was important to me. My Father and Brother had been missing for nigh on 5 years. Every year I would come back to this same temple , to pray for them. My mentor was along as well. He had been a good friend to my Father and a good teacher to my Brother, and now he taught me. He was my only guidance in the ways of leading a kingdom.

            As we passed through the first door, leading into the brightly lit inner sanctum, the familiar sounds of the temple rose to me. The monks of the, Temple of the Lost Sun, never stopped their endless chorus. Strangely though I had never actually seen them, but their ghostly voices always filled this place.         

            We stepped quickly, in silence, down the long corridors, winding and twisting, seeming far further than this building could possibly contain. The lights gradually grew dimmer, the decorations more drab, the air… more chilled, until finally, we arrived at a large, heavy, wooden door. This place was new to me. In past years we had simply prayed in the cathedral. I didn’t know why we were here, but, I trusted my mentor for whatever his reasons may have been.

            My mentor’s sudden voice, stirred me from my thoughts.

“My Prince, this place is filled with magiks, both chaotic and pure. Be wary of suspect artifacts.”           

I nodded my consent, and we continued walking. Down into the heart of what could nae have been but the ends of this place… and yet… the monks of the Temple of the Lost Sun, still rang clearly.   

            We finally came to a stop, to a place, seeming most unextraordinary A wall, with a painting, loomed before me. The painting was of a priest, surrounded by monks, in a prayer circle. Nothing special struck me about this painting. Except… something… was suddenly out of place… was that… movement?

“My Prince, this painting was done shortly before the disappearances of your family. It has often been studied, in hopes of finding some clue. It is believed to contain magik of unknown origins and alignment. I brought you here, so that you too might study it. Perhaps you may know something that we did not.” My mentor bowed, and stepped into the shadows behind me.           

            Saying a quick prayer, I step up to the painting. It seems to show nothing significant. Five monks, circling one high priest, standing amidst a shadowed, but pleasingly aesthetic grove, all with heads bowed and shadowed.

 Taking one more quick glance over it, I step back.

“Teacher, I see noth…!” Wait! It moved! The slightest of stirrings in a monks robes, a mere trick of the shadows to some, but I am positive! I reach up and touched the painting.

             The hood of the nearest monk, slowly rises, and cold blue eyes look out at me from the frame, almost looking bored. The expression quickly turns to shock upon seeing me!

These eyes I recognize.

            I try to tear my mind away from this, my brother, staring out at me from the canvas! He seems to be saying something. Now the high priestess looks up from his meditations. His eyes meet mine, and a horrified look of vague recognition comes across his face. The high priestess, my Father, opens his mouth as if to scream, his inky countenance beginning to run, but no sound comes forth. His arms, flailing wildly, as if gesturing for me to run away, but I cannot. Surely this cannot be real? We are taught at an early age to discern reality from fantasy, and surely this canvas is fantasy. I am vaguely aware of my Mentor’s laughing behind me…
           My mind becomes lost in itself. The lines of reality blurring, the stone floor sinking, I feel nothing, hear nothing,  the searing pain in my head smothers all else, feeling as though my mind is being ripped from my consciousness, and then... The lush green grass beneath my feet, holds my attention. I can move… but, I don’t feel that it is necessary. My fellow monks chant along with me, and the high priestess, the loudest. His face is vaguely familiar, but I can never remember why.

Based on my dream from an hour ago.