Ian walked along the street for a while, the streetlights above him lighting up one after another. The church's dark wooden door was no longer in sight, and wind blew in from the corner at his side. He neither hurried home nor deliberately slowed his pace. He simply continued down the street, passing a bus stop whose lights were still on without stopping.
The buildings on either side of the road grew shorter and shorter. The streetlights remained evenly spaced, their glow creating alternating stretches of light and shadow across the ground.
He thought of the statue, then of the old man's words: "true mystery." Those words still turned over in his mind like stones soaked in lake water, still dripping after being hauled out. He had yet to fully determine whether they would leave behind a recognizable shape once they dried.
Chronos Guardians, trials, the unknown, true mystery. They were like drawers placed on different levels. He had already felt along the edges of some, while others remained shut, their corresponding handles yet to be found.
As he passed down a street lined with old trees, he spotted a grocery store by the roadside that was still lit. The lightbox above its entrance cast a white glow over the steps outside and a small patch of concrete. There was no one in the store. An elderly woman sat behind the register flipping through a magazine, as though nighttime shops rarely saw customers at this hour.
He crossed through an underpass where several lights had already gone out, leaving only one lit every so often. Broken patches of light dotted the walls. Several faded posters had been pasted there, most of their edges torn away to reveal traces of even older stickers beneath them.
The street ahead gradually widened, and