“What is this order you two were talking about?”

Pecta sighed as he leaned back in his chair. I followed his example only to discover that the wood was very uncomfortable.

“Saying that the bandages are worn by followers of Noctus isn’t the entire truth. They are worn by followers with a very distinct ideology.” Pecta cringed as if he remembered something from his past. “They believe that the end justifies the means as long as it’s in service of a better world. Stealing, murder, torture, all is good if it achieves that end goal.”

My discomfort at wearing garments that symbolise these horrible acts was obvious and Pecta let out a light chuckle. “Those were some very harsh examples. Most of the people who wear these bandages don’t break the law. If that was the case, the authorities would lock up anyone who wore them. Although the Creator’s Church is very close to doing so.”

“What is the Creator’s Church?” I asked, interrupting his explanation. He had mentioned them once when talking about the goddess he followed.

Despite having interrupted him, Pecta calmly explained. “They are the main religious organisation of the Kingdom of Sanktrum. They are dedicated to the worship of the Pantheon of Order, which consists of the gods of Light, Justice, Righteousness, Peace, Harvest, Prosperity, and Forgiveness.”

I blinked. ‘Wow, that’s a lot of gods’. Seven different deities in only one pantheon. When Pecta had talked about gods, all-powerful beings, I had assumed that there were only a couple of them. Logically speaking, it didn’t make sense that there were so many gods. Wouldn’t they get in each other's way? And if they were all omniscient how would such a conflict end? I didn’t voice my doubts, as this seemed to be a topic my companion held very dear to him.

Pecta shook his head. “Let's not get off topic. As I was saying, not all of these followers of Noctus break the law or do evil stuff. However, some of them have banded together and formed a…”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t want to call them a cult, as that would probably be an overstatement. I have seen what a cult is capable of and these people aren’t even close to that level of evil. No, I would say that they are an organisation, a guild if you will. They call themselves ‘Noctus’ Dream’.”

He sneered. “You should be wary of anyone who names their group after a god.” I leaned forward in my chair, full of trepidation. “So, what do they do?” I asked. Pecta raised his hands and motioned for me to slow down.

“Let me first get something to drink.” Before I could give him my water flask, he pulled out a half-full bottle and took a big gulp. He offered it to me but I refused. The stench coming from the liquid reminded me of the alley outside.

After a short pause, he continued. “They are glorified assassins that go after people who they see as evil,” he disapprovingly stated. I leaned farther into my chair. My thoughts on killing weren’t as black and white as when I had first entered this world.

On one hand, killing was bad. I didn’t know what happened to the soul after death but I had a theory. The river of darkness I had inhabited before coming to the physical world still haunted me. If that was where one's soul ended up after death then nobody deserved to die.

But by that logic, I had damed several souls to such an end. However, they had been trying to kill me and would have murdered even more innocent people if they had continued living. Stopping that wasn’t evil. It was good.

All in all, I concluded to not judge others so quickly. My thoughts on assassins weren’t very positive but Noctus’ Dream didn’t sound too bad. If they only killed evil people then that should be fine. I asked Pecta why he wasn’t such a fan of them.

He frowned at my question. “Don’t you see the obvious flaw in their ideology? Who decides what is evil and good? No mortal should have the authority to decide about such matters.”

In my admittedly small experience, some people were very obviously evil. For example, the mercenaries or the mage. But then there were people like Sarvad. I cocked my head. Maybe it wasn’t so obvious.

“What is your experience with them?” I asked. “You said that they operated in your home city.”

He sighed but nodded. “Yes, a big part of their organisation operated in the city. Here is a recommendation for you: don’t visit Wirmaw. Assassins, criminals, and cultists all around. A lot of violence.”

He took another gulp from the bottle while I pondered. “How did you know that Lilith was a member? What did you call her?”

“A Shadow Hand,” he answered. “That’s what the members call themselves. And I had a hunch. The way she fought was familiar.” I nodded, honestly impressed that he could identify something like that from a fight that had lasted less than 5 seconds. “What does that mean for us?”

He shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea. Seran has no chapter of Noctus’ Dream, I’m sure of it. What a lone member is doing out here I have no idea but I know one thing.” He leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, “She’s trouble.”

He took another sip from the bottle and abruptly stood up. “I’m going to sleep,” he mumbled and walked on unsteady legs to the pile of hay in the corner. He grabbed a bunch of it and fashioned a makeshift bed before collapsing onto it.

There were still a lot of questions but I decided that I could ask them tomorrow. I took an example from Pecta and formed the remaining hay into another bed. Sleep was something strange. I had wandered the desert for days without any need for it. But now as I laid on my back, the hay barely softening the stone floor, I felt my eyes drift shut.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

My experience with sleep was unique. The one time I had slept the parasite had tried to take control of me. Thanks to Adam this probably wouldn’t happen again but it left a sour taste in my mouth.

During our trip through the desert, Pecta told me that dreams are controlled by the gods. He believes that they are a way for them to send messages to us mortals and guide our path. If that was the case, then I never wanted to meet the twisted god that created my dream.

It started innocently enough. I was walking through a stone corridor. Glowing rocks on the ceiling allowed me to see that it stretched on endlessly. No sounds could be heard except for my echoing footsteps.

Suddenly, a second pair of footsteps joined mine. Then a third, and a fourth, until I could hear six distinct entities walking behind me. I tried to turn my head and see who it was but my body wouldn’t let me. I could only stare straight ahead.

My body started speeding up until I was lightly jogging. The sounds from behind me made it clear that my followers were keeping pace. Then the screams began.

Without any prompting our jog turned into a full-on run until the ceiling lights became a blur. I noted that I could only hear 5 people running behind me. Then a thud sounded like something or someone big had hit the floor. Now only 4 of them remained. My body kept running, even as the corridor started to change.

It twisted and turned as if reality had lost control over it. In an instant, the walls were covered with eyes. Not symbols of eyes, but real, human eyes. They followed me with their gaze as I continued to sprint for my life. Another thud and another scream signaled the loss of 2 other souls.

The walls started to pulsate as if they were a living thing. Some of the eyes started bleeding, their dripping adding another sound besides the frantic running.

Another cry and only I and another remained. I expected another cry of pain, the sound of a body hitting the floor to never rise again. But it didn’t happen. Instead the last person following me just… stopped. Their footsteps simply cut off.

I desperately wanted to look behind me but before I had any chance to do that a clawed hand broke through the ground in front of me. It snatched my ankle and tried to pull me underground. I clawed at the ground, desperate to find any sort of grip. But the surface was too smooth and my two human hands could not find anything to grip onto. The last thing I saw before I woke up was the ceiling that was watching me with countless eyes.

I woke up with a gasp. The room was dimly lit by the device on the table and Pecta was still sleeping next to me. I stood up, trying to be as quiet as possible, and walked over to the exit. A small peephole next to the entrance was my goal.

A look told me that it was still dark outside, suggesting that I had not slept very long. I walked back to the table, deciding to wait for Pecta before doing anything. Quietly taking a seat I started to wait.

I didn’t know how long I waited before giving up. It was simply too boring. Still, I didn’t want to wake my companion. After all, he had done for me, it was the least I could do. I decided to explore our temporary new home.

Granted, it was pretty small but it was also an assassin hideout. I would be very disappointed if there weren’t any secrets. The first thing I did was to scan the walls for irregularities by brushing my hand against them. I was so engrossed in my task that I didn’t notice Pecta waking up.

“What are you doing?” His voice broke me from my stupor. I sighed at my continued lack of success. “I was searching for a hidden cache but it looks like there’s nothing here.” I turned around and sank into one of the chairs.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Pecta standing up and slowly walking to the corner of the room where the hay had been. He swiped away the remaining stalks and pushed something with his hand.

Suddenly, a small part of the ground fell away, revealing a ladder leading into another room. I stared at the opening in shock, as my companion calmly walked back to his makeshift bed and lay back down.

“Wha- How?” I stuttered. “Oh, I noticed it yesterday,” Pecta said in a muffled voice. It was obvious that he was still sleepy. “Then why didn’t you tell me? Shouldn’t we have explored it before going to bed?” It was very uncharacteristic of him to simply ignore a potential threat.

I for one was mad that I hadn’t had the chance to immediately explore it.

“What do you mean?” he asked tiredly. “We’re in a Noctus hideout. What do you think will be there, genius?” It took a while before he realised who he was talking to.

With a groan, he sat back up and stretched his arms behind his back. “Sorry, forgot that you are kind of new to this whole… living thing. That down there is a shrine dedicated to Noctus. His followers have this weird thing about hiding his places of worship.”

During his explanation, I had leaned forward to better listen to him. It was fascinating to learn about the people living in this world and religion was something that I didn’t fully understand.

Before asking any more questions I decided to explore the shrine. I still needed to explain to Pecta what I had learned the other day but that could wait. It was obvious that he required sleep.

As I reached the bottom of the ladder I coughed. Dust was everywhere and I was certain that this shrine wasn’t used often. The underground chamber was even smaller than the one above and I needed to duck down as to not hit the ceiling. The only thing of interest was the apparent shrine that filled up most of the room.

Most of it consisted of a simple wooden block. I squinted. There were small symbols carved into the green wood. I couldn’t decipher what they meant but it had to be important. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be on something dedicated to a god. I decided to ask Lilith about it.

But what caught my attention were the three figurines on the shrine. They were intricately carved and looked so lifelike. The first showed a smiling man, reaching out with his hand as if he was trying to make a deal with someone. He looked friendly but then I noticed that his other hand was hidden behind his back. A quick look showed that there was a carved dagger held in it, just hidden from view. Not so nice after all.

The next figurine depicted a cloaked figure sitting cross-legged on the ground. Both of their hands were visible and contained coins of varying sizes. I remembered Pecta saying that Noctus was also the patron of merchants. Maybe that was what the coins symbolised?

But the last one was the most abstract. It showed a vaguely humanoid form that had clawed hands and feet, with tendrils stretching out from its back. Of all the figurines this one was the most monstrous.

Were these depictions of Noctus? What did they symbolise? Another subject I would ask Lilith about.

I was about to leave but stopped before doing so. Would it be rude to leave without giving a prayer? The traditions were foreign to me and I didn’t want to do something wrong. I called out to Pecta and waited for his head to appear above me.

“Do I need to pray before leaving?” I asked. “I mean, no,” he answered. “It isn’t necessary but it also wouldn’t hurt. Praying shows respect and as far as I know, Noctus isn’t very strict with prayers. Just don’t insult him. Even if you won’t meet him, he did save your life. At least, if that assassin is telling the truth and isn’t delusional.”

Turning back to the altar I went on my knees and folded my hands together like I had seen Pecta do when praying. “Hello, Noctus, God of Shadow.” I thought about what I would say but came up blank. Short and simple would probably be best.

“Your shrine looks very nice and I hope that you guide our path. I don’t know if it is true that you told Lilith to save us. If that’s the case then I’m thankful for it. Have a nice day.” I let out a sigh and stood back up. Then everything went black.