"After all, I need your blood to open some doors."

Nua just stared, terrified.

"Not your whole blood, dammit", he growled. "Just a few drops here and there. You see, my guide – the one that died because of you – was a quarter Unsagga. He passed for an Azurian, which was fortunate for him. However, he had just enough of your cursed blood to grant him access to the Forsaken sacred places, which was fortunate for me and my business. A basic security measure, but one that I couldn't bypass. Your kin was their servants and soldiers after all."

"What... what if I died?"

"Well, I carry a jar of leeches for poisoned wounds. I'd use them before your blood would get cold." He grinned. "Fresh is better though. Also, a pair of hands to help me out is always of use, even if the helper is somewhat incompetent."

She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. She wasn't looking at him, but Flavius still noticed.

"Ahaha, you're certainly something. A nameless garbage girl with a pride fit for a highborn lady. Now, let's go. Go, before I make you!"

The main entrance, fortunately, did not require anyone's blood. The bronze gate towered over them, layered with symbols and weathered reliefs of fantastic birdlike creatures. Flavius proceeded with some prodding and slight pushing, as if he didn't really want to enter.

"Breached", he muttered under his breath. "Let's see how far they went in."

He pulled a bundle of papers from his backpack, then chose one with symbols and figures not unlike those on the door. Then he started to press the reliefs. Some clicked. Others could be turned.

Nua observed him with morbid curiosity. Between the fear and the hate for Flavius, a half formed thought was budding. The myths and customs of her people had vanished after the fall of the Forsaken. Once there must have been gods and laws that governed the earth and the sky, but now all of it remained forgotten, just like the language of the ancients. This vast, rich culture did not fade away on its own. Back in the days of Auntie Hala's grandmother you could still get flogged or have your tongue cut out for spreading the shards of knowledge that circulated as bedtime stories. Now, Azurians did not pay attention anymore. Unsagga's superstitions, they said. To believe in them was something to be ashamed of, something suited to demented old crones and half-mad street prophets. If you were in your right mind, you dismissed it as nursery tales.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

At some point, though, when the Forsaken ruled the world, it all must have been real.

Southern Temple was never plundered. What if they meet udugs - immaterial beings that could be approximated in Azurian as daimons? Perhaps of a malevolent kind, like blood sucking rabasa or dangerously alluring lilin. What if the temple was guarded by the etheric animated golems or undead ghouls? Would the explorer's sword be enough?

She did not ask. No doubt it would result in more mocking. Then she would have a screaming fit and Flavius would kill her for certain.

Meanwhile, after the last click, the reliefs in the middle of the door parted, and the gates begun to open with loud, stone-on-stone screeching. They halted halfway, unable to go further, the doorframe in continuous vibration. Flavius handed Nua another torch and gave her a push in the back in a not so subtle reminder.

"Look for patterns. If anything's different, a plate is placed a notch higher, there is a crease between them or an opening where it shouldn't, well, then it's a trap. Do not fall into a trap. Then show me where it is."

She glanced at him. He was serious.

"I expect a smooth road at this level" he added, looking at his map. "After all, this was a place for the public. You never know, though."

True to his words, Nua did not know. She wasn't sure what to expect either. She entered a large room that was perhaps supposed to be a vestibule, meant not just for several guests, but a crowd. The columns and the floor were built of red and black stone. The former was porous, destroyed by the centuries of decay. The latter appeared like thick glass and still had a shine to it.

The walls were covered with painted reliefs not unlike those on the door, scenes that depicted armed people and carriages, winged people, fantastic beasts, daimons and hybrids of all sorts. The paint faded to the point of being barely apparent. Some of the reliefs, notably the largest and most fantastic ones, harbored signs of oddly specific damage, as if someone took great pains in chiseling off only the figure's jewelry or the carriage's wheels. After a while Nua noticed traces of gold plating on one of them, just next to the signs of damage.

It seemed like the previous visitors had stopped here before venturing further.

Two guardian statues sat at both sides of the exit, half-human, half-lion. They seemed much less eroded, if covered with a thick layer of dust. Undamaged gold plating decorated their hair and gem studded belts. Nua frowned.

Beyond the vestibule, a large temple hall was visible from afar.

"They destroyed the walls", she pointed out. "But they did not touch the statues. This is a trap."

"I agree", Flavius muttered. "Look at the floor by the left statue."

She followed his advice, then gasped. There was a desiccated arm sticking from under the guardian, and it still held the chisel.

"Dear mighty gods", she said, her voice trembling. "I come here in peace, to pray, a very pious Unsagga person. I do not mean to desecrate the holy place. Please guards, let me in."

She looked behind. Flavius was waiting, his arms crossed.

Nua entered the temple hall.