Altar

"I knew there was something different about you."

The skinwalker spoke as he approached the stairs, extending his hand, only to have it halted by the unseen barrier.

"It's truly peculiar. When I possessed a shadow manifestor and attempted to enter this place, I couldn't. Yet here you are, effortlessly passing through," the skinwalker remarked, his tone tinged with a curious fascination.

Upon hearing the skinwalker's words, Adrian discerned that it wasn't necessarily because of his lineage as a shadow manifestor, but rather, it likely had something to do with Her.

"She said I'm Her shadow now, which does sound different from being a shadow manifestor. However, the runecaster referred to her as 'mother' too, so is she the great-great-great-grandmother of them all?" Adrian mused, grappling with the intricate web of relationships and titles.

Continuing to grapple with the unfolding situation, Adrian turned around and gazed at the immense door of the temple, still striving to make sense of the mysterious circumstances.

No longer giving heed to the skinwalker, Adrian resolved to enter the temple, realizing that lingering here wouldn't offer any solutions to his predicament.

"She mentioned I'd receive a gift during this punishment. Could it be connected to something within this temple?" Adrian pondered, contemplating the potential significance of the impending reward.

With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Adrian reached out and touched the door of the temple. The intricate craftsmanship left him in awe, marveling at the detailed artistry before him.

As soon as he made contact, the door effortlessly swung open. Glancing back, Adrian noticed the skinwalker seated just outside the barrier, wearing the same unyielding smile on his face.

Just as he prepared to pivot and enter, Adrian caught sight of two figures at the cliff's edge, ascending. The vampires had arrived, identical to the skinwalker, serving as his doppelgängers.

"He's going to have a party all by himself," Adrian thought wryly, acknowledging the peculiar gathering of versions of himself.

Disregarding the skinwalker, Adrian proceeded to step inside the temple. As he did, the doors closed behind him.

As Adrian crossed the threshold, a vast, cavernous interior unfolded. The towering ceilings reached toward the heavens, supported by columns embellished with dark motifs and statuary that seemed to guard the sacred space.

Stained glass windows, not depicting saints or deities but rather arcane scenes of cosmic significance, bathed the interior in an otherworldly kaleidoscope of colors when touched by sunlight.

The altar, placed at the center of the temple, merged elements of both religious traditions.

A symbol that appeared to transcend cultural boundaries was engraved into the stone, radiating an aura of spiritual convergence. Candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows upon the ancient runes inscribed on the walls.

Approaching the altar, Adrian took in the sparse surroundings of the temple, with the focal point being the altar positioned in its center.

In the heart of the temple, a sense of sacred solemnity surrounded an ancient altar crafted from black, pristine stone. The stone, worn smooth by the touch of countless hands over centuries, bore a lustrous obsidian sheen that seemed to absorb and reflect the ambient light coming in from the ceiling.

On the surface of the altar, intricate symbols were meticulously carved, weaving a cryptic tapestry of ancient wisdom and mysticism. 

The symbols, weathered by the passage of time, bore an air of enigmatic elegance that even Adrian, with his discerning gaze, found challenging to decipher. 

The details were finely etched, revealing a craftsmanship that spoke of an era when artistry and spirituality were seamlessly intertwined.

Adorning the edges of the altar, the symbols formed a complex pattern that seemed to dance with hidden meanings. Each curve and line suggested a language forgotten by the annals of time, an arcane script that held the keys to secrets lost to the ages.

Under the symbols, a faint inscription in a script of ancient origin added to the mystique.

The characters, etched in a language that time had dulled and distorted, presented a challenge to Adrian's comprehension. As he strained to make sense of the inscription, only fragments of meaning surfaced, like elusive whispers from the past. 

The words seemed to carry an essence of reverence and invocation, their true significance obscured by the veil of ages.

The ancient altar, a nexus of spiritual energy and historical significance, stood as a silent witness to the passage of time. Its symbols and inscriptions held the echoes of prayers, rituals, and the collective yearning of generations past. 

For Adrian, it was a testament to the enduring enigma of ancient wisdom, inviting contemplation and stirring a curiosity that transcended the boundaries of temporal understanding.

Unable to decipher the significance of the nine symbols intricately interwoven in a strangely beautiful manner, Adrian shifted his focus to the inscriptions on the altar.

"Thou art not what thou once wert. Kneel before me, Arcanara, the Nightseamstress, and thou shalt dwell in glory."

Reading it, Adrian couldn't help but scoff at the content.

"Who in their damn right mind would actually do this?" Adrian mused, his skepticism evident as he contemplated the contents of the inscription.

Adrian uttered the words, expressing his disbelief yet uncertain about what other course of action he was supposed to take within the confines of the temple.

'Let's say she wanted me to be here, but now what? Do I really kneel here? Is this her temple?'

Having these thoughts made sense, as Adrian wasn't sure what actions he was supposed to take next.

Adrian surveyed the temple for a while, but there was nothing particularly noteworthy. The walls lacked inscriptions, and the altar held nothing else of significance.

He redirected his attention to the symbols, hoping to find a clue in case he had overlooked something crucial.

The nine symbols appeared to be drawings of people—that much Adrian could discern. However, the precise actions or significance of their depicted movements remained elusive to him.

'They do look like… praying in different ways.'

Adrian let out a sigh, ceasing his efforts to decipher the symbols, as it wasn't yielding any results. Seating himself beside the altar and leaning his back against it, he closed his eyes to take a moment to breathe.

'Grrrrrrr'

His momentary peace was shattered by the sudden growling of his stomach. Adrian realized he hadn't eaten anything since that meager bowl of soup the previous night, which tasted like shit.

'I can't linger here indefinitely; the skinwalker awaits outside, and I have limited options for dealing with it.'

Adrian sighed, the gravity of his predicament sinking in. A sudden realization struck him — the collar was no longer in its place. Intrigued and apprehensive, Adrian delved into his soul, searching for any discernible changes.

Delving into the depths of his soul, Adrian's eyes shot open with a sudden revelation.

'What the actual fuck?'