32
MYLA
Lincoln and I follow Deniz to some white temples sitting atop a low hill. All of them are tall, square, and use an ass-ton of pillars. I know zip about architecture, but this seems extreme to me.
“We’ll enter the first temple,” offers Deniz. “You’ll see other people inside. They won’t detect you, though. We’re watching the past, not reliving it.”
“We understand,” says Lincoln. “Thank you.”
By the way, my husband is marching around ancient Greece in his jeans and bolshy boots like a boss. For my part, I’m waddling around, duck-style. The good news is that we reach the temple in no time.
Lincoln, Deniz, and I march up the front steps. Inside, the temple is a long and boxy space that ends with a raised platform. Statues line the left and right-hand sides of the chamber. Gods and
