There was a
platform that sat in the middle of the fiery lake, connected to the
tunnel I had come from by a walkway of stone. This room was different
than the other two, also, in its fashion, for while the previous had
vague evidences of intelligent design, this one was very obviously
artificially decorated. The walkway above mentioned was of ornate stone
with an intricate design of circles, squares, and triangles carved into
it, and on each corner of the center stage was a long pillar that
reached from floor to ceiling, each carved like a totem pole, with a
variety of animals and shapes stacked upon one another. The dome was
done ornately as well, for I saw as I walked further into the room that
what I had thought had been imperfections in the dome proved to be an
elaborate three dimensional sculpture that stuck out from the ceiling,
depicting an intricate scene of figures and telling a story of some
great saga of war and peace, pride and prejudice, love and hate, faith
and betrayal, all combined to make the greatest mural: history, the
story of time itself.
As I looked in awe upon its beauty, I was startled by a voice coming
from an unseen figure somewhere on the center platform.
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