"I'm sorry, Reed, but it's simply the situation we are in. You are not my enemy nor I yours, We simply serve two different masters." The priest's words echoed against the walls of the candle lit crypt.
His face was gently illuminated by the flickering lantern he held. Deep lines ran from his nose to his jaw, carved not just by age but by the weight of following orders that betrayed the gods he once believed in.
"Perhaps not, but you aren't my ally." Reed said, "And after I get out of here, I will kill you. Not because you are my enemy, but because you serve the wrong master."
The priest leaned in closer. "I don't doubt that, Reed. You have to do what you have to do, just like me."
As he turned away, something metallic clattered to the floor, the sound sharp against the stone. The flickering light was too dim to reveal what had fallen. The priest continued up the rusted ladder, lantern light fading with each step.
Every movement drove the chains deeper into Reed’s wrists, the cold iron tearing at his skin. He hated this—bound and helpless, enduring hunger, the bone-chilling damp, thirst, and rats that prowled the shadows.
Reed scratched a thirty-third tally into the wall. Thirty-three days. He tossed the rock aside, sinking back into the darkness. But his thoughts returned to the sharp clatter when the priest left. Something metal had hit the floor. Reed’s curiosity stirred, cutting through his weariness.
Curiosity burned through Reed’s exhaustion. He stretched his legs, fumbling in the dark with his feet until he felt the metallic object. It made a faint scraping sound as it dragged toward him. Reed’s fingers closed around the cold metal, and he felt the distinct shape of a key.
Reeds mind began to race. How could the priest be so careless? He knows I’ll kill him when I escape. Why bring the key with him unless... Unless The priest had dropped it on purpose, perhaps as a form of redemption for betraying the gods.
Reed wasted no time. He slid the key into the rusty lock around his wrists, hands trembling with a mix of disbelief and anticipation. The mechanism resisted for a moment, but with a firm twist, it clicked open.
Reed twisted the key, and the lock gave way with a satisfying click. The chain fell to the floor with a dull thud. Reed staggered to his feet, muscles aching as he moved toward the ladder, each step heavy with newfound freedom and simmering questions. Why would the priest risk setting him free? Did this have something to do with the growing unrest in the northern kingdoms, the whispers of rebellion against the high temple’s control? Or was it linked to the old gods, whose shrines were being torn down in favor of the new order? Reed’s mind churned as he reached for the ladder.
Reed climbed the ladder, each rung creaking under his weight. As he reached the top, he pushed open the trapdoor, lifting it just enough to peer out. The air was thicker here, tinged with the faint scent of incense and stale smoke. His eyes settled on the altar beside him.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZZXFIOSJw0
The altar stood about three feet tall, darkened with age, dusty and cracked like the fading gods of old. Symbols of harvest—wheat, corn, and grain—covered its sides, but they seemed worn and lifeless, as if the gods themselves were dying, abandoned even by their once-loyal priests.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwlIe1pRXfJ
As he looked around, he realized he was in a small, forgotten chapel. The air was thick with the scent of old wax and faint incense, the stone walls lined with faded tapestries of the old gods. Near the far wall, the priest was curled up on the cold floor. In his lap rested a dagger, loosely held in his slackened grip. He must have been holding it, expecting me to escape—right up until he dozed off.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9Qit5RXobU
Reed moved quietly, each step measured as he approached the priest. The chapel was still, the only sound the faint flicker of the lantern’s flame. Reed reached down, carefully prying the dagger from the priest’s loose grip. The cold metal felt steady in his hand, a stark contrast to the uncertainty swirling in his mind.
He nudged the priest’s shoulder with the dagger’s hilt. The priest’s eyes snapped open, confusion quickly turning to grim recognition.
“Who is your master?” Reed demanded, his voice low and edged with the sharpness of the blade now aimed at the priest’s chest.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLvTDUmPIj6
Reed moved quietly, each step measured as he approached the priest. The chapel was still, the only sound the faint flicker of the lantern’s flame. Reed reached down, carefully prying the dagger from the priest’s loose grip. The cold metal felt steady in his hand, a stark contrast to the uncertainty swirling in his mind.
He nudged the priest’s shoulder with the dagger’s hilt. The priest’s eyes snapped open.
The priest blinked, shaking off the remnants of sleep, his eyes locking onto Reed’s with a weary resignation. “You have been called, Reed,” he said, voice laced with a mix of dread and acceptance. “Whether you know it or not, the gods have plans for you.”227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlAK0BbzNXN
Reed’s grip tightened on the dagger, his expression hardening as the priest’s words sank in. “Screw the gods,” Reed snarled, eyes burning with defiance. Without hesitation, he drove the dagger forward, swift and deliberate. The priest gasped, a mix of pain and resignation flickering in his eyes as he slumped back against the cold stone.227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡurPRuV0mpn
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