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Helicod waited for his turn. This was his first pilgrimage, and he was filled with both eagerness and trepidation. Slowly the queue, formed as it was in a series of winding double spirals, advanced bringing Helicod and his fellow pilgrims closer to the cochlear opening. At last it was his turn, the woman in front of him disappeared into the vortex and he stepped forward. Taking a breath he pushed on, steeling his nerves through his devotion.
The young man felt contorted. He could see his back, the bottom of his feet, the side of his face, the top of his own head. His fingers touched the backs of their own hands and his feet bumped into his knees. The pain was shocking, but felt distant as well, as though felt through many draughts of julibery wine. When he began to feel that he could not stand another instant he realized that the sensation was gone and that it had lasted only a moment. He stood within the temple, its spiraling structure answering his initial concerns with a space as vast as infinity, a spiral that continued on in every direction without apparent limit …
|Image Source: http://undead-academy.deviantart.com/art/Spiral-In-The-Mist-475031770|