WP: Concrete

Today’s prompt word is concrete!¹

The temple was smaller than he thought it would be. Once-sharp steps, now crumbled with age, led upwards into darkness framed by roots and vines. A bird he didn’t recognize called out, and Ryan wondered for a fleeting second if the warning was for him or for those he came for. Machete in hand, he slowly moved forward, tromping through underbrush that had remained untouched for decades at least.

Step by step he climbed, at times grabbing onto the stones and greenery on either side to keep from sliding down. The moss and decaying leaves were determined to slow his progress, but Ryan would not be deterred – could not be deterred. He pressed on.

Reaching the entrance, he dared to stand straight for the first time in hours. The darkness stretched out before him, uneven flagstones rippling into the distance. Forest chirps and calls died away, and though he had not taken another step yet, Ryan felt miles away from where he had stood just a moment ago. The world was eerily quiet now. Did it know why he was here?

The machete now traded for a flashlight, he pushed forward. Step by unsteady step, he plunged into the forgotten ruin, knowing full well that it was neither a ruin nor forgotten; someone had gone to great lengths to make it appear that way. Weaving through the minotaur’s maze, he smiled into the darkness as the crude stones gave way to concrete and the damp air, once filled with life, now cooled his skin.

The rounded tunnels gave way to angular memories, each passing alcove containing a shadow from another life. He tread carefully now; there were spirits here that did not need to be awakened. The low rumble of slowly flowing water was music to his ears and the ancient coin burned in his pocket as the underground river came into view.

The shadows shimmered before him and the long, thin boat that haunted his dreams materialized from the mist, its lone ferryman standing at attention. It was time to die.