Temple

The Soul, denied of everything that uniquely feeds it, becomes weak. It festers and absorbs even more of what makes it weak. It attracts forms of sorrow, elements of torture, signs of The End.

The Body, the Temple for the Soul, is infested from the inside, metaphorical death of pleasure manifest in to literal pain, weakness, stagnation of the body. The constructs in the Mind betray the well-being of the Body. They slowly self-destruct, consuming all comfort and logic with them. The ties to the version of Reality enmeshed with the Mind dissolve. The ties between Mind, Body, and Soul dissolve--the three are no longer connected.

Pieces of identity get dragged out, like cuts of meat on display, "what is this one worth?" A fragmented Mind attempts to hide, clinging to these hunks of identity, which inevitably get pried away like an old dry-rotted frame. Everything is exposed. Fear, which used to be dampened by the Mind, now permeates throughout the Temple, feeding the Infestation, the Rot. Mind cannot hold onto anything, forced to stare into the Mirror, no longer in control, "just watch."

This Exposure asks the Body, "do you have food? Shelter? Love?" The Body responds, "yes, but this hurts. When does it end? What do I need to do?" Silence. Another piece of the Soul gets exposed, put up for show, ripped away from identity, all strings destroyed. Eventually the Body gets an answer from the Void, "when it is done."

The Sacred Temple shakes in sorrow, becoming a helpless shell. The soul is cleansed, weightless, for a time, but not any brighter.