Roy winked his eyes, but his vision remained clear. There was no flash or darkness which arose from the fluttering of his eyelids, or faint twitch of the muscle which made him conscious of the movement.

No, there was nothing to disturb the view which now lay before him. He was in a hall, that much was clear to him. But the walls and floor were made from solid stone blocks, each of which was at least as large as a semi. The surfaces were impeccably smooth where they were not decorated by lavish paintings and detailed engravings.

Embedded along the wall in frequent intervals were decorated columns. They depicted all manner of people, and even some which were distinctly non-human. There were the goblins,  who were familiar to Roy, and many other races, some of which resembled those he often saw in video games.

The columns reached toward the vaulted ceiling before spreading across the surface like the ribs of some gigantic beast. Spindly arms branched out from the main supports and formed a latticework amongst the higher sections of the wall, twisting into bizarre and hypnotic decorations.

The jutting points and fractal like clusters were illuminated by a unsettling red light which intruded from the stained windows set high up on the walls. At least they appeared to be stained windows, for the light made it all appear in various shades of red.

That was no sunlight Roy had ever seen. It appeared almost demonic, like hell festered just outside these stone chambers and soon it would barge in and take him as its newest member.

Turning his eyes away from the ceiling, Roy looked down the hall, at the dias raised prominently at the end. It was the only decoration near the ground and that fact made it stand out all the more in this cavernous expanse.

Upon the dais, raised perhaps a full meter off the ground, was a throne made entirely of stone like the rest of the structure. Two stone gargoyles, wings spread open menacingly lay perched on the back of the throne, they were life like in detail and their perch was equally intricate from the glimpses Roy caught of the stonework. The problem was that much of it was covered by all manner of upholstery.

Blankets made of furs and what appeared to be silk were draped upon every inch of stone, and piled atop it was a mound of pillows which mellowed every edge and turned the precise form into a amorphous mound.

Much of the fabirc was white, with a trace of red embroidery here and there.

However, none of that captured Roy’s attention as much as the knight that stood beside the throne. The figure was not overly bulky, nor tall, nor intimidating. It fell short of Roy’s expectations considering that this was all very fantastical.

The knight's attire was simple, a white tabard over an ensemble mainly consisting of chainmail. There were plate gauntlets and graves of course, but they appeared to be made of simple steel and the only thing impressive about them was the degree of care the wearer took to keep them looking new.

There were no massive shoulder pads, or spikes, or runic engravings. In fact, the only decoration was a pair of bat wings which adorned the knight’s simple full helm. They were tiny, swept back little things that protruded from just above the ears.

The knight turned his attention to Roy, causing his armor to jingle, and then announced in a youthful and light hearted tone, “Welcome my friend! I hope your journey here wasn’t too sudden or exhausting. This…”

The knight swept an arm out and gestured theatrically at the throne, “is Lady Ometia, and I am her humble knight, Sir Volker!”

It took Roy a moment to pick out the figure lounging amongst the pile of upholstery. It was no easy feat considering her skin, hair and the winding sheet of fabric she wore as a dress blended in with the fabric piled on the throne. The only detail that ruined the camouflage were her eyes, two blood red orbs which lacked pupils, sclerae, and irises.

Roy shuddered and turned his attention back to the knight, only to catch the man pull out his sword and slide it across his wrist. Blood began to gush from the wound and the man calmly stepped forward, allowing the ichor to trickle down like a twisted thread and fall upon the lady on the throne.

There was a dreamlike quality to the scene and Roy watched the girl sprawled out lethargically across the pillows. She didn’t bat an eye as the blood splashed onto her skin, like red paint splattered against canvas. Or at least, it should have splattered and marred the white of her skin, instead it seemed to disappear the moment it came in contact. As if it were a figment of Roy’s imagination and the moment it touched the world it shattered and disappeared from view.

Then the girl, the lady, the women, the thing, on the throne spoke, “Apologies my honored guest, I don’t usually feast on occasions like this, but times have been rough and I am quite unable to function without a constant stream of blood.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Her tone was bright, like the knight’s. High pitched and girly, reminiscent of sunshine and daisies. The way she sat gaily upon her throne and the youthfulness of her appearance contributed to the illusion of youth. But those eyes gave it away, showed that she was the great nexus of power that blinded his mana sense the second he took a peek.

So he stood there, stunned, speechless, mouth agape as he watched more and more blood trickle from the knights wound. Surely there could not be so much blood in a man, and surely not from a man that looked no bulkier than Roy himself.

The thing on the throne stared at him all the while, before something seemed to light up and she spoke again, “That’s right! You’re from Earth! This must all seem very strange to you, the thought escaped me for a moment there.”

It occurred to Roy how strange it was for it to voice that idea, he imagined the people of Earth would be the more civilized, the more conscious of differences like these. As he juggled that thought in his mind the thing continued to speak.

“Right… I’m afraid we don’t have much time so I will need to be brief,” she pulled herself up so that she sat a little straighter and took a small breath of air – that was a first.

“Alright,” Roy responded, he would have to roll with it if he was going to get his hands on any information.

“Excellent, at least now we’re certain Azif’s translation module is working!” she exclaimed before turning back to the matter at hand, “Right, so you activated Defile, correct?”

Roy nodded, he really should have gotten more information on that ability before using it.

“Which essentially means you’ve offered me the corpse as a gift, or put rather put more unpleasantly, as tribute…” a grimace appeared for an instant before she continued on, “More specifically, you had a choice to whom you would dedicate the gift to, me or my sisters.”

So that’s what the whole tendril thing had been about. He had been selecting who to… give, the corpse to. But then, why did it matter, how did the sensation he felt play into the decision? Was he going to receive something in return, and if so was what he received based on who he choose?

“From now on, any other corpses you offer up will come to me automatically… or course you can always choose to honor one of my sisters, I mean, if you have a change of mind or something…” she flashed a nervous smile at him and it was almost enough for her to appear human, if it weren’t for the absence of detail in her eyes.

“I’m not quite sure how to phrase it but it’s kind of like… religion?” the pile of pillows shook as she shifted around in the mound of fabric, “Worshipping me would be flattering, but unhealthy… so it’s not really like religion? I’ve only looked through a bit of Azif’s reports… but I will be granting you blessings and providing as much help as I can, so there is that.”

Religion, that’s what this was. He had essentially picked a deity to follow based on what they stood for during his brief trapeze in nowhere land. It was like picking a god to follow in a video game, he would need to offer up tribute in order to receive buffs to his stats. It was a shame he choose so hastily, who knew if this goddess would offer him the appropriate buffs.

“Hmm, I think you’re misinterpreting…” his deity commented and he realized that he had donned his game face, which was a mix between a contemplation of strategy, and a contemplation of the sick rewards he would receive at the end of the quest chain.

“Regardless, that’s the gist of things…” Roy shifted uncomfortably in place as the pair of wholly red eyes fixed him in a contemplative stare, “Wait, that’s right! You’ve already undergone Initiation.”

“Initiation?” Roy questioned, he wasn’t aware of any shady ceremonies he had performed besides the dubious use of ‘Defile’.

“You imbibed the Elixir of Vitality… It came in a fancy glass vial and was the color of blood…”

Dredging through his memories, Roy recalled his first day and the potion that had saved his life after fighting the frog monster, “Oh, you mean that… um, cool, but what does that… mean?”

“Don’t worry, it’s a trifle, nothing that should cause you to worry,” she waved her hand in a placating gesture, “We frequently offer them as gifts for those who aspire to join our Order; of course, there are no obligations attached, that would be horrible.”

“You order? What’s that?” it seemed as if something new popped up every sentence and he barely had the opportunity to ask for explanation.

“Fuu… this is quite exhausting isn’t it, anyways. The Order refers to the non-ascendant elements which support, protect, and receive aid from us, the Hallow Powers,” finishing her statement, she pointed at Sir Volker who still stood at the side of the throne with his arm outstretched so that his blood could rain down upon her.

“Wait, wait, hold on. Non-ascendant, hallow powers, what are those supposed to be?” he could guess of course, but why bother when he could just ask for the answers.

“Tsk, I don’t think I can keep the connection up for much longer,” her mutterings echoed down the hall and only lead to more questions springing up in Roy’s mind, “You’ve ended up in the area around New Atlarium, correct?”

“Right, our town is called Anamosa,” he felt the need to add.

“Hmm... if that’s the case you should seek out Sister Flou, I’m sure she can address any questions you may have. In case you can’t pick up her spiritual signature, she fancies sprawling green robes and carries around a small tree for a spell foci.”

“Cool, but I still need some questions answered!” he couldn’t afford to stumble around any longer, he couldn’t afford looking for someone else to fill him in, he needed that information now.

“Please understand, I… can’t keep this connection up,” as she voiced those words the blood red of her eyes seemed to spread for an instant, coursing through her veins and tracing out macabre patterns under the skin for an instant before abating, “I’m sorry, but farewell for now, we will try to aid you to the best of our abilities. Remember you must bear the torch of civilization!”

Roy’s view seemed to flicker and dim and the end of the sentence became warped and twisted as if it were travelling from a great distance.

“Oh… and… announcement… sister... no… choice…” then everything merged with the ambience of space and Roy found himself pulled through those greet tendrils of power, back towards where he had begun.