Levi's mind raced, his instincts screamed to flee, but his body was rooted in place, shackled by fear.
He was certain— sure of it. His voice had been sucked into the murals, devoured like breath into lungs, and the voice that resounded out was his… but older, weathered.
It sounded desperate.
His voice managed to soak into a total of five murals and text.
The voice continued, disregarding the individual in front of him.
Hearing the voice, levi's eyes snapped to the first mural. Figures, vaguely human, knelt in rows. Their hands were clasped together, foreheads pressed to stone.
The shapes of their bodies were blurred, as though carved in a hurry, but the posture was unmistakable— prayer.
From the stone, his older voice leaked out, trembling with weariness—
"Forgive us, Mother… for we know not what we were doing."
The sound vibrated through Levi's bones, and before he could draw breath, the second mural stirred.
