They approached the priest, who began railing against them in fear, cursing and damning them. Promising death and suffering at the hand his god. Carys walked up to him, tore the icon from his hands and tossed it across the room, shattering the sand dry wooden statue.
“Now listen here… You’d better cooperate fully, or we’ll show you what’s happening outside this room.”
“Y-yes! Please! I’ll do whatever you want! Just… Spare me!” The priest, bereft of his holy insurance fell to the floor and desperately tried to kiss their feet. Carys gave him a kick to the face.
“Now get to work… I need you to forge us a file. You’ll write it exactly as we say, and if you try to sabotage it… Well.”
“N-no no! I’ll help you!”
She looked around the dim lit room. This was her first time inside the inner sanctum. Despite its name, it was not what she had expected. By how the priest described it, it was a room of plenty, of splendor and the purest form of gift from his almighty god. But here she saw only a run-down room. The torch had revealed the presence of several other doors. She pulled open the closest one, and immediately, a stack of books flooded out, covering the floor around her. The titles escaped her, but judging by the covers, she felt certain they contained some form of religious scripture. With one room, secure, she continued further down to the next one. The terrible stench emanating through the splintered wooden door revealed itself to be coming from a makeshift latrine. Even in the darkness, the distinct lack of shape possibly due to a lack of fibrous diet stained the floor and the wooden hatch from which the stench seeped out into the room.
Behind the third door was a dimly lit room with a stone slab placed in a slight depression in the center of the room. The depression was filled with blood from about a dozen throat cut men, whose corpses littered the floor. The slab was surrounded by signs and images on the wall, looking like those she had made out from the books. The room smelled of something burning. Upon the slab laid a still bleeding corpse of a young woman. Her abdomen was cut open and her innards had been removed. From the contorted face, it was clear she had suffered for a long time. She looked around and soon found the woman’s intestines burning on one of the rusty braziers.
She gave the corpses a cursory inspection, and soon found a small copper ring on the finger of one of the male corpses. The ring refused to move. She broke the fingerbone clean with a wet snap, and cut the finger off with a knife shoved into the throat of the next corpse. She then effortlessly slid the ring into her belt pouch. The ring on the woman’s finger got the same treatment.
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“Oh… What a monster.” Rein walked into the room, surveying his surroundings with a strange sense of curiosity. She nodded to him and he drew her attention to one of the images on the wall. He explained to her the meaning of some of them, and gave her a quick introduction into surgical cuts. As soon as he finished his lesson, Carys entered the room.
“We got it… Time to go.”
“Sure. What about all this?”
“Blow it up.”
“Sis, sometimes, you just have the best ideas… I’ll fetch Tilia and get on it.”
She left the room to return to the priest. He had been chained up in a neat little package. Around his feet had formed a puddle of his own piss. She decided to ask him about her parents. Despite his best attempts, the priest refused to tell her anything.
“I think it’s best not to think about it Ferran, but if you really want to know, I’ll help you.”
Carys knelt beside the priest, took out a small flask and forced the content down the priest’s throat. He coughed and hacked but was unable to prevent the liquid from entering his body. After a short while of writhing and gargling. He became quiet.
“Ask him what you want to know… But you may not like it.”
She nodded and asked about her parents. The priest told her that they had suddenly turned up with her. They promised to return and had paid a small amount of coins to smooth him over. He had accepted her. The months had gone by and nobody had come for her, so the priest had decided to put her to work. He had been pleased with her dedication, and efficiency. The session ended with the priest expressing genuine sadness that she had betrayed him.
“I hope that was worth it.” Carys sighed.
She shook her head. The priest had not told her anything useful. A hint of sadness filled her heart, as the longing for her parents made itself known within her. Carys held out her hand and she took it, standing up.
“Okay, we’re all set to go!” Tilia appeared in the doorway wearing a big grin and holding a small cube in her hand.
She left the room, and emerged out to find a completely changed main room. Across the floor was a sea of dismembered bodies and a sea of blood. A few were still alive, clutching stumped arm sockets or trying desperately to comfort their dying loved ones.
“It was fun you all! But now we have to leave! I left you a little present… Hope you enjoy it!” Tilia smiled and waved as walked out. Once they were a little bit further down the tunnel, she took out a small pastel-colored box and put the cube into a socket underneath it.
“Okay! We’re all set! Ferran? Want to try it?”
“What do I do?” She studied the box curiously.
“Just turn the hand-crank a few times and see!”
She began turning the crank, and the box began producing music which felt vaguely familiar to a child’s lullaby. The music built up steadily, and suddenly, the lid flew open and a small troll figure bounced out. What followed was a deafening explosion followed by a wave of heat emerging from the underground refuge. The sewer walls trembled and a deafening crash signaled that the refuge had been buried completely in the rubble. Tilia put the troll back in and put the box in her now significantly lighter pack with a satisfied smile.