The Kneeling Witness

You enter a circular temple chamber where a kneeling statue of black basalt waits beneath a cracked dome. Tarnished gold horns frame its blank face, and dull red light leaks from the seams in its chest. Three chains cross a sealed plate over its heart. Its left hand is extended for an offering, its right wrist bears a tiny iron bell, and one eye is an empty socket that draws in every curl of smoke. The air smells of hot metal, old blood, and extinguished candles. Whenever anyone approaches, the statue’s chains twitch and the brass dial in its throat clicks once.