= Mikael =
I moved toward the heart of the temple, each step slower than the last, as though the air itself had thickened around me. The circular chamber seemed to breathe—stone and shadow holding their silence like something alive. When I reached the center, I stopped.
Above me, the dome opened to the night sky.
It wasn’t a flaw in the architecture. It was intentional—a perfect, measured aperture carved into the ancient ceiling. Through it, the moon hung luminous and whole, and from that silent eye of light, silver radiance spilled downward in an unbroken column.
It didn’t simply shine.
It descended.
The beam poured into the temple like a benediction, bathing the stone floor in pale brilliance and pooling at the altar as if the light itself had chosen this exact place to rest. Dust
