The desert wind blew like a whispered warning, threading through broken stone and sand-scoured statues. The sun was low and molten, bleeding across the horizon as four figures approached the long-buried steps of a temple lost to history.
The Temple of Sekhara.
It emerged from the dunes like a half-remembered dream—massive limestone blocks worn smooth by centuries, twin sphinx statues flanking the stairway, their faces serene and unknowable. Symbols older than the common tongue carved the lintels. The air shimmered with heat and expectation.
Tamsin Rael adjusted her scarf and stared up at the weathered facade. The human wizard had studied Sekhara for years. She'd followed riddles through burnt scrolls and cracked tombstones to this place. Her eyes gleamed with purpose behind dust-streaked goggles.
"We're here," she said softly. "She waits."
Ezzar, the tiefling rogue, squinted at the statues. "Gods don't wait. They sleep, or they rot. Let's hope she chose sleep."
Brukka, their towering lizardfolk companion, hissed and clutched his glaive tighter. "This place... stinks of old gods. I do not like it."
Sivya said nothing. The elven cleric moved silently, her silver robes barely disturbed by the breeze. Her eyes never left the sphinxes.
The team climbed the steps, the sand hissing underfoot. At the top, an enormous stone door loomed. No handle. No lock. Just a single inscription etched deep into the rock:
Speak what must be known, and enter.
Tamsin ran her fingers over the carving. "It's a riddle gate. Sekhara was obsessed with truth. And paradox."
Ezzar sighed. "And here I was hoping for a trap I could disarm with something other than a liberal arts degree."
"Silence," Sivya said suddenly.
They turned to her.
"It is the answer."
Tamsin blinked. Then slowly, she turned back to the door.
She whispered, "Silence."
Nothing happened.
Then the air grew still.
The door rumbled, dust spilling from ancient seams, and began to slide open with a sound like grinding teeth. Beyond it lay a long hallway, lit by shafts of golden light that had no visible source. Murals covered the walls—scenes of people speaking to the Sphinx, and being judged.
Brukka stepped forward first, muscles taut. "Stay close."
Inside, the silence deepened. Even their footsteps felt muted.
At the end of the hall stood a chamber with a dais. A single statue of Sekhara sat atop it, wings spread, eyes closed. Before her lay three empty bowls. Carvings beneath each:
-
Truth
-
Sacrifice
-
Deceit
Tamsin approached and froze. "She wants us to offer something. But only one path is safe."
Ezzar looked around. "What happens if we choose wrong?"
From the darkness above, something moved.
Stone scraped against stone.
The sphinx statue opened its eyes.
Tamsin stepped back. "It’s not a statue."
The temple trembled.
Sivya stepped forward, calmly removing a vial from her satchel. Her voice echoed through the chamber.
"We have come seeking truth. But we know the price."
The sphinx opened its mouth, but did not speak. Instead, a sound filled the chamber:
Wind. Sand. And the promise of a question that must never be answered.
The silence of Sekhara was broken.
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From towering statues to riddle doors, ceremonial chambers to judgment altars, this modular set is built for puzzles, gods, and ancient consequences.
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Step into the silence. See if your players dare to break it.