The Temple at the End of Time

When the great temple was all that remained of the old world, the tentacled ones came, not to destroy, but to hold it together. They wrapped themselves around the crumbling gopurams, their pale limbs threading through the carved stone like roots of a banyan tree. The priests in yellow robes watched in silence. This was always how it was meant to end, not with fire, but with an embrace.

Object number

012.05.006