This is my response to Day 9 of http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/'s 30 Days of Flash Fiction, the list for which can be found at http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/221684.h
“What is this place?” Edita looked wide-eyed at the ruins that surrounded them. The great stone structures had not surrendered to violence but to age and nature. Statues still stood, but they were wrapped with vines, dotted with moss and patched with lichen. Birds flew in and out of empty window spaces. Butterflies danced in the sunlight over courtyards turned to meadows.
“Faruma,” said Bennoli. “Let’s not linger, this place gives me the creeps.”
“But what is it?” Edita asked again.
“It used to be the centre of the theological world,” Tarrascotti explained. “All the gods had their biggest temples here. Then the gods died and the world fell apart. There’s no point in keeping up the temples.”
“Except for Aschaer and Lunifer,” amended Bennoli, “But they moved their seats elsewhere, can’t say I blame them, priests or gods. This place is like a mausoleum.”
“Fell apart? Like seasons out of kilter?” Edita seized on Tarrascotti’s comment. “Not just the seasons,” her hands shook in frustration as she tried to find the words to explain a new idea, “But the reasons there are seasons in the first place. The seasons came first then the plants. That’s why she’s worried,” Edita went on, “Whatever killed the gods broke the world. The gods that were left weren’t enough to fix it but before it fell apart Sharptooth claimed spring and made it happen. Sharptooth’s will is what keeps the world doing what it’s supposed to do for spring to happen. If it falters...”
“So our ice maiden-,” Tarrascotti prodded.
“Wants her father back, wants the Summer Queen back, wants the Hunter back, wants everyone back, but if she can’t have that, she’ll try to do some of it herself.”
“Careful,” rumbled Bennoli, “You’ll be her first priestess yet.”
“Not me, my daughter.”