The interior of the temple is grand yet barren. No statues or paintings grace its stone, and the walls themselves are bereft of anything but torches. It’s a little disappointing to be honest. At least there are ornate rugs on the floor, and several temple banners hang from the ceiling, but otherwise the only objects of interest are the pews and the altar where the Maker’s stories are told.

Well, not the only objects.

There is an old elf slouched in one of the pews. She is deep in prayer though and I have enough respect to keep my distance. I wind around her until I find myself before the altar. Atop it is the book of wisdom: a collection of stories that focus on the great exemplars of the faith. In this world the temple clerics don’t preach or study rules; instead they master the stories contained in this book: tales of heroes and villains, lords and ladies, rich and poor, slave and free. The narratives are supposed to inspire others to journey with, and eventually toward, the Maker himself.

I need a story of a lonely, overmatched foreigner being stalked by a seductive demon.

“Do you think you’ll be in that book someday?” asks the elf. She’s suddenly next to me. I didn’t even see her move.

Like Bruce Wayne, I never did learn to mind my surroundings.

“Ugh. Sorry. What did you say?”

“Everyone is in it in some way,” she continues, “but some are present more than others.”

I scratch my head uncomfortably. “Yes, well, I’m not from around here.”

“So you may be in it the most of all then.”

I open my mouth. Then close it again.

Clearly this elf has seen better days.

“Yes,” I respond finally. “Be that as it may. I think it’s time for me to go home. Goodnight.”

I turn to walk away.

“Is home where she told you to go?” asks the elf.

I pause. “Who told me?”

“You know. The demon.”

I freeze in place and for a minute you could hear an ant fart it’s so quiet. “What did you say?”

“She doesn’t like temples, whatever she might say to you. So going home would make sense.”

I turn my head slowly and see the old elf waiting for me. Her back is hunched and she leans upon a crooked staff. Her robe is loose and long, and her hood masks most of her matted black grey hair. Her face is so wrinkled that I’m tempted to turn away, but the eyes hold my attention. There is something about that sparkling turquoise that is just so beautiful. It reminds me of something pure, something noble, something…

Angelic.

“Is it possible?” I ask.

“More than possible, likely even. A demon will often appear when you are alone, so it can garner your full attention.”

“I mean you, is it possible that you’re an angel.”

“I’m not an angel, Ethan, I’m your angel. Sent to guard and protect you.”

“Then where have you been?” I ask exasperated.

“I’ve been with you, guarding and protecting.”

“Well, you haven’t been doing a very good job of it,” I mumble.

“What’s that?”

“I just don’t understand why you left me with that freaking demon.”

Angle points her staff at me. “You are the one who summoned the demon, Ethan.”

“What? I did not!”

“In your fight against the bandits you used the darkness from the onyx. The sleeping shards within you that Mary worked so hard to smother. You woke them up.”

“Oh, is that what that was?” I ask innocently.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“By tapping that power you got the dark lord’s attention. So he has sent a demon for you.”

My shoulders slouch. “So she’s going to keep following me?”

The angel nods. “Unfortunately. And she will endeavor to seduce you to her side.”

I shiver at the thought. “What do you mean ‘seduce’? Like she’ll just show up naked and try to have sex with me?”

Angel shakes her head. “If only it were so simple. Then we could just castrate you and be done with it.”

I jump back in astonishment.

Angel smiles. “That was a joke, Ethan.”

“You’re terrible at jokes, Angel.”

Angel scrunches her wrinkled brow with concern. “You really think so? Michael said that once, but I thought he was the one joking.”

“Ugh. I don’t think he was.”

“Unfortunately, I believe this demon tells good jokes. She is very clever. I’ve faced her before.”

“Why can’t you just banish her, then?”

“Banish her?” she asks quizzically.

“Or imprison her or something. Just get rid of her somewhere. So I don’t have to deal with it.”

The angel sighs. “Humans are always looking for the easy way out.”

“This human is anyway. You’ve no idea how much I miss microwaves. Cooking over a freaking fire? Talk about a joke.”

Angel looks at me intensely. “You must remember, everything the demons say is a lie. Everything.”

I squint. “You mean they never speak the truth.”

“There may be words that a demon says which are factually accurate. But they are always in service of lies. Always.”

My head hurts and I turn away, looking down at the floor, and feeling suddenly tired. Lost in a maze of puzzles I may not be able to solve.

It sucks doing this alone.

“How can I find you?” I ask the angel. “If I need you again. Where will you be?”

I look up from the floor. The angel is gone. Just like that she has disappeared and in her place is a middle-aged man. Bald, dark skin, though not jet black, with cleric robes and a stout staff that he surely doesn’t need for support as he’s quite muscular.

“Find me? Why would you need to find me?” the man asks. “Or are you still just talking to yourself?”

I step back before the accusation.

How much did he hear?

“What do you mean?” I ask defensively.

“I’ve been watching you,” he says, “from up there,” and points to the rafters. “You haven’t knelt, read, or walked. You've just been standing around mumbling. So why are you here?”

“Temples are free for all to enter.” I dodge.

“Not if they are intent on robbing it.”

“Robbery?” My head jerks back and I glance around the room. “Is there anything here worth stealing?”

Crap, I said the quiet part out loud.

The cleric frowns and grips his staff tighter. “I can see my hopes were misplaced. You’re no more pious than the elves.”

That’s when I notice the obvious: he’s not an elf. Typically temples are led by the peoples they serve.

“You have no business here,” he continues. “You should leave.”

“So should you,” I respond, feeling feisty now. “A human cleric has no business running an elven temple.”

The older man narrows his eyes at me. “Serving the Temple is everyones business. Regardless of race. Regardless of place.”

“Hmm. I doubt the elves would agree with you.”

The cleric grunts. “If they did perhaps I would not have to be here.”

“I’m not following.”

“No, I don’t suppose you are.”

This is going nowhere. The cleric seems intent on staying where he is and I doubt my angel is coming back.

I shrug. “Alright, vicar, have it your own way.”

I turn to go. As I do, the temple doors open and a small troop of elves come in; elves that are different from the ceremonial guards at the palace. These elves look ready for battle, or more accurately that they have just come from battle. Their leader’s face is scarred, and without any of the elaborate jewels or styled hair that graced the elven Lord.

The leader looks at me. “Have you told him already?”

I shake my head, not knowing what he’s referring to but confident I haven’t said anything useful.

He turns to the cleric. “By order of the Lord Erriam, you are to accompany Sir Ethan to the elder wood on his quest to destroy the dryad.”

I didn’t realize that was my quest. And I don’t know what this dryad is.

The vicar’s eyes widen at the news, then narrow again as he turns to me.

“Don’t look at me,” I protest. “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Please come with us, vicar” The elf’s voice is formal and curt. His hand rests on his sword, and it may just be ‘resting’ but it still strikes a belligerent pose.

Not much deference for the clerics around here apparently.

“I am a servant of the temple,” the cleric responds. “It’s not my role to fight in dungeons.”

“And it’s not my role to question, my lord, vicar.” There is an edge to the elf now. “Please come with us.”

Now the cleric squints at the elf. He raises his staff and for a moment I fear there’s going to be a brawl in the temple.

“Wait,” I call out. “Maybe there’s another way. Maybe I can defeat the dryad without him.”

The elf laughs, it is a dark noise though, and feels ominous. “You may have destroyed the onyx stone, Sir Ethan, but I assure you this is far more difficult.”

The cleric spins on me. “Wait, you are the one who destroyed the sorceress’s stone?”

He’s so intense, so ardent in his attention that I’m reluctant to admit it. “Ugh…yes?”

The cleric relaxes and lowers his staff. He even smiles. “Well then, perhaps you were not talking to yourself after all.”

“What?”

He looks back to the guards. “Let’s be off then. There’s no time to waste.”