The eye. Comprised of the cells of ancient lifeforms that had been broken down and regurgitated by Nightrunners only to be recycled and congealed into a massive and tempestuous pink appendage. One that lived its grotesque life trapped snuggly within its chamber, spent most of its time at rest. Not asleep. Waiting for someone or something to awaken its monstrous black pupil from its meditation. Its brain churned away unceasingly through the incessant darkness, receiving signals from some unseen source .
Neither alive nor dead, the eye existed purposefully. Waiting eons. Lingering sullenly from within its masonic post, its grey eyelid would remain closed until any visitor was in range of its sight. Many, it had seen come. Many, it had seen go. Each visitor had something unique about them whether it be the way they dressed or the lines on their face as they cowered in fear. Most visitors had one thing in common. Most visitors never made it inside of the temple.
The eye watched down at their futile march toward some elusive salvation. It had already identified their physical and metaphysical composition. It could see everything about them, past, present, and future. The stories of their ancestors and generations passed, all came to into focus in the eye’s mind. No generational flaw went unchecked by its rationale. Each new body was a node on an unsurmisable karmic chain.
The two Blacktop Babies as they had been dubbed by one of their predecessors were about to face a great deal of change. There was nothing they could do to stop it.
