#astc

Aljun approaches the temple. The stone has long since crumbled, the mosaics broken, the stained glass shattered and gone, but the shape of it is still visible, memories overlaid on top of reality. Here is where the high priest would hold services. Here is where Aljun and the other novices would gather for lessons. Here is where he had his first kiss, lips sticky with juice, plums pilfered from the orchard.

Here is where he decided to leave. To abandon the temple and the life set before him. To travel the world and not look back, not for years and years and years. Not until it was far too late.

Aljun removes his gloves, softened with use, but still tough for protection, and lets his bare skin brush against the rough stone wall. Moss grows in some places--more proof that the elements have reclaimed the temple for their own--and the sight of it invokes something complicated within his chest.

He left the order because it was too stifling. Too many expectations and responsibilities, not enough explanations. He had been raised in the temple--had been there since his first memories, even before then--and while he was never truly unhappy, he had also never known otherwise.

Surely, there must be more to life, to the world.

And so, at the first opportunity, he left.

He joined a crew of sailors who were rowdy but welcoming, demanding but fair. They expected excellence from him, but whatever he didn't know--which was, to be fair, quite a lot--they were also willing to teach him.

He learned and grew and lived.

And then, he kept living.

It was, at first, easy to attribute it to good luck or coincidence. Aljun never got sick, recovered quickly from injuries; storms barely touched him even as they ravaged his crew mates.

Sea life is hard. Years passed and more of the original crew with it, replaced with sailors equally rowdy and welcoming as the first. Aljun learned and grew and lived and more years passed... and more crew members with it.

Until, eventually, Aljun looked around and realized he was the only one left. He was captain and still the years and crew passed.

It could no longer be attributed to luck or coincidence.

Curse or legend or some other mysterious force. The sailors who now joined his ship sought something Aljun didn't have; or, at least, if he did, he didn't know how to give it.

And so he went home only to find even that could not withstand the test of time.

Not even the temple which had been so constraining in his memories had been immune.

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