Seemingly crafter by God's, marble columns and walls surrounded the area on top of a mountain. However beautiful the place might have looked from the outside, or how beautiful mortals imagined the inside to be, it was made with the intent of not being viewed by fragile eyes. It's beauty was deemed to be too powerful to be grasped, so the builders, the only people who got a glimpse of its beaty, bolted the doors and promised that no mortal could enter.
Layed in white, decorated with gold, the marble palice stood proud between the bushes and trees that were homes to insects and animals alike. Some mortals chose to come here ever so often either to pray for their loved ones, their luck in life, or to atempt the impossible and break into the sanctuary. No one had ever seceded. Decades, eons had passed yet the palice of God's stood proud, ever covered by an imperfection, seemingly unable to.
Sometimes, mortals talked about even animals visiting the palice. They spoke about stags and wolfs alike, finding piece under the massive builds wings. They would bow, they would feed and sleep by the doorstep of the palice and they may have been just rumors, but the message was clear - the palice would stand proud as a reminder of how powerful God's could really be.
Yet despite this, between the white colems, stood a person. She was not a mortal yet she refused to be called a God. The actions she took resulted in this - an eternal life of hearing people out and blessing their days. She had resented God's in her lifetime, saying that what they did was unjust for a mortal, yet here she was - incapable of death, pushed into a state of lonelyness, despite being surrounded by beings with power that could rivel only her own.
Despite the palice being called a place of prayer and hope, the woman could not feel hopeful with her destiny seen more as a punishment rather than anything, but maybe the stories were true. Maybe wolfs raised their young and stags bowed their antlers for a reason, because a young man had aproached the palice soon after the young God had set a foot on the untouched floor.
The man seemed tired, carrying a single dead crow as an offering his hands. He could not recall a reason for his choice, but maybe he didn't need one. Maybe the instinct was a relic of a past life.
Seing the young man, the God couldn't help but to smile. He had not changed a bit from the last time she had seen him. His hair as pink as the sinset, ears poking out of the messy locks and eyes as red as the blood she used to be stained in. Eyes she could never forget.
She wondered how he had passed. She wondered of all the adventures the partook in on his past life. She hoped that the man had fun and deep down missed her. However, the answer seemed quite clear as he placed the bird on the temples doorstep, looking for something, hoping for someone.
Decorated in a silky white dress flowing over her body and a flower crown layed in gold, she had decided to break the rules given by God's and speak to the poor mortal who looked for her ade, a mortal she missed for eons and will never forget about.
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