The temple stands atop the mountain, rising above the mist and shying away from the untrained eye. It is looking over the village of Durn, like a sleeping giant from an age gone. At the edge of the town’s only road, a chain linked fence stands between Luna and the crooked path that would take her to the monument in the sky.

     She extends her hand upwards, three quarters up the fence, both measuring the obstacle and savoring its raw existence. The girl curls her fingers and pushes herself upward, but hesitation stops her halfway through the deed. The atmosphere feels electric, charged with anticipation. The sky shows signs of a brewing storm.

     “What is it you think you’re doing, girlie? Going out late for a hike?” An old man speaks to her from a balcony that overlooks the mountainside. From above, his voice sounds ethereal: the voice of a warding god in the clouds.

     “Do you really need to ask?” she replies, jumping to the other side. A bit of her jeans gets caught on the wiring and she curses to herself.

     “No. Not really.” He pulls out a foldable chair and sits. “It sort of comes with the house. Some would call it a curse. Of course, others just call me a fool for caring.”

     Luna sees him pull out a knife. His arthritic fingers move quite elegantly while he peels an orange that he produces from his left pocket.

     “They say old men are wise men. You just seem a bit more on the loony side. Speak what you mean old man and don’t waste my time.” Luna could keep going. Just ignore him and push on. Instead she leans on the fence, letting it carry her weight, scratching the itch of curiosity.

     “Since I bought this house, I come up here. And this balcony here, lassie…just sees it. You know. That monument. The beacon.” The old man points the tip of his knife upwards, a glint of the evening sun bounces off it, blinding her momentarily. “Sees above as so below. The lot of you. Always jumping that goddamn fence and never coming back.”

     He lets the words float in the wind, but Luna is not easily swayed. She knows she might not come back either.

     “Any of them ever come back?” she asks; it’s almost a whisper.

     “That’s the curse kid. I always warn them…but they never listen.”

     His silence beckons her to jump over the fence and run back home. But she can’t back down now.

     Luna turns her back on the old man and faces the long road ahead. It is just a road and she’s just a sixteen-year-old girl. She feels the gaze of the old man shift between her and the sleeping temple at the top of the mountain. A part of her hopes that the old man’s gaze stays with her the whole way through, but soon, the road grows steep and she finds herself alone on her way to the belly of the beast.