Two Eyes Cenote necromantic dancing

Ghosts haunted their halls.

Akhtar feverishly painted, slathering the walls in murals that had no beginning and were not yet ending. He was consumed in the fervor, he did not sleep, he did not eat.

For three days he carried like this. The third night, mouth dry, paws shaking, he stepped away from his murals and stared, unseeing, at the great ibis facing him from the dark. It inclined its head, and vanished when he blinked.

I’m seeing things. He declared to the midnight air, leafen bowl near falling apart when he shoved his paint-matted paw back into it.