“I thought that when you hoisted me in the air by my shirt, you might have formed a passable guess about my height,” Ichabod commented wryly.  “And as for my age, I’m 25.”  Privately, he  wondered how old Ruin might be, although he wasn’t yet confident enough to ask such a personal question.  He’d heard rumors that demons could live for hundreds of years, maybe even thousands.  And a few people actually claimed that demons were immortal.  Ichabod thought it must be wonderful to have all that time, instead of the few brief decades allotted to humans.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">You’re a strange one, human.</span>That remark earned a soft chuckle from Ichabod.  Ruin was hardly the first person to pass a similar judgement.  Most people simply didn’t understand why any sane man would risk his life trying to see as much of the world as possible.  Clearly he’d be so much happier learning a trade, courting a wife, and fathering as many children as the poor woman could pop out.  Ichabod had never really fit in anywhere.  As a result, he’d never made many friends.  Maybe that why his solitary lifestyle didn’t bother him.  And maybe it was also why he found it increasingly pleasant to have Ruin’s companionship.<br/><br/>Ruin’s next words saddened Ichabod.  He couldn’t make any judgements about Ruin’s honor, since he didn’t know how the demon thought he’d lost it.  But it seemed wrong that Ruin should be cast out by his people simply for being blind.  What gave them the right to judge his value based on such an insignificant thing?  Maybe he couldn’t fight as well as he once had, or read the words printed in a book.  But he could still love, and teach, and lift the spirits of his companions.  Didn’t those things matter too?<br/><br/>Despite what Ruin said,  Ichabod found it difficult to believe that the demon truly didn’t care how he was addressed.  What if Ichabod chose a moniker like ‘Fluffy’ or ‘Cupcake’?  There was a part of Ichabod that wanted to to try it and see how Ruin would react.  And there was another part of him that wanted to remain alive -- fortunately, that part almost always won its battles.<br/><br/>All playful thoughts vanished from Ichabod’s mind when Ruin reacted to his question.  Ichabod hadn’t seen him so angry since he ripped apart the deer carcass back at the tavern.  Taking a step away from the enraged demon, Ichabod prepared to apologize for letting his curiosity get the better of him.  However, before the words could leave his lips, they were swept away by a flood of images.  Fire burned all around him, making the air so hot that it charred the lungs of the dying as they screamed.  Then everything was cold and dark.  Chains held his body as men beat him repeatedly.  And throughout it all, pervading every nook and cranny of memory, was a sense of grief that Ichabod knew all too intimately.  Clamping his hands to the sides of his head, Ichabod attempted to shield his mind from the onslaught.  But the images kept coming anyway.  Finally, overwhelmed by their intensity, Ichabod sunk to his knees on the ground.<br/><br/>Apparently oblivious to Ichabod’s distress, Ruin began walking away.  As the distance between the two men increased, the images in Ichabod’s mind grew weaker, and then vanished altogether.  Shakily, Ichabod pulled himself to his feet.  He felt certain that he’d glimpsed memories from Ruin’s past -- probably related to his capture by the Duke, since they’d been triggered by Ichabod’s question.  Perhaps the bond between them had allowed the transfer?  On legs that were still unsteady, Ichabod staggered after his companion, resolved to keep the experience a secret.  Ruin would surely feel violated if he knew that Ichabod had seen things the demon was not yet ready to talk about.<br/><br/>“Yes,” Ichabod confirmed, his voice a little hoarser than normal.  “That’s the temple.”<br/><br/>A flat area lay ahead of them, which had obviously once been a courtyard.  Even now, a few pieces of broken paving remained, like stone icebergs in a sea of dirt, slowly floating apart as the years passed.  Further in, a marble building continued its marginally successful battle against decay.  A few of its stone pillars had toppled, but most remained upright, supporting the temple’s domed roof.  “Come on,” Ichabod urged, beckoning to Ruin.  There was no compelling reason to enter the temple, since the weather didn’t require them to take shelter.  But Ichabod couldn’t resist the urge to explore.  Besides, he needed something to distract him from the horrors that had so recently invaded his mind.<br/><br/>As he made his way across the ruins, Ichabod noticed how barren the ground was.  Not even weeds grew in the dirt.  And an odd smell hung in the air, bitter and smoky, like rancid incense.  But these details only did more to arouse his curiosity.  Undeterred, Ichabod climbed the temple steps until he stood beneath its large dome.  At first, it looked like the underside of the dome had been painted to depict a starry sky -- then Ichabod noticed the giant carved teeth which ringed the image, as if the whole cosmos existed in the maw of some of some immense monster.  “Well,” he commented, craning his neck to gaze upwards.  “That’s disturbing.”