Diary

"Pythia, this may be the last time we meet."

Among the emerald, tranquil mountains, pale stone pillars lay toppled between broken stone steps. The brilliant paint of the past had long since peeled away, and moss had multiplied generation after generation over the indistinct reliefs on the pillars, staining the pure white marble in layered shades of green, like the shattered sunlight spilling through the pine forest in the distance, falling mottled over the grass—like an unfinished oil painting, and like a feast laid out too late to be tasted.

The man hid his face beneath the brim of his hat and the upturned collar of his coat, just like the light-shunning Vampire that had recently become popular in folk tales.

"I just came back from the United Kingdom. It wasn't easy. That big fellow finally got ideas of his own and left this old, decrepit fossil behind to go find himself."

Only the short stretch of steps at the mountaintop remained of the path leading to the old temple site, and even they had been seized by tangled vines. After much effort, he found a relatively clean patch of ground and placed a bunch of grapes beside him. In Ancient Greece, these were the offerings the residents of Delphi customarily brought for Apollo when visiting the temple.

"Long time no see, Mr. Riddle."

The woman's voice came from behind him. Tom did not look back. He only plucked off a grape and tossed it into his mouth.

Sour, astringent juice filled his mouth as the skin burst. His whole face puckered from the teeth-aching tartness, and when he opened his eyes again, everything around him had become as it had been a thousand years ago: the magnificent temple and the decaying earth, the spotless steps, and the bustling city