Vaela pushed on the doors of the church, Hermit and Surah right behind her. The doors creaked open and she winced at the noise. Not that it mattered anyway. Kaverlna would find out she was here, one way or the other. She crept into the church and looked around. The entrance hall was lit by candles, but no one stood at the doors, no feet pattered down the hall to confront them. Where was everyone?

Surah stepped up next to her. “Well, this isn’t what I expected.”

Hermit scoffed and walked up to a table with an urn on it. He knocked the urn to the floor with his staff and it shattered. Vaela cringed and whipped her head towards the hallway. Still no one came. Hermit banged on the table. “Hello! We’re here to kneecap you!”

Vaela stomped over and grabbed his wrist. “Stop, they’ll… I don’t know, just stop.”

Hermit shrugged and pulled free. “Doesn’t seem like anyone’s home.” He squinted at her. “You sure you got the right place?”

She crossed her arms. “Oh, there’s another church with an anvil around here? Of course this is it.” She exhaled through her nose and jerked her head to the hallway. “Maybe they’re eating.”

Hermit rolled his eyes and gestured for her to lead the way. She led them down the hall and turned the corner. The hall opened into the dining room. A large, wooden table dominated the room with a few plates peppered on it, food half-eaten. Along the wall was a large cabinet and several metal staves were clustered in a corner of the room. Surah grabbed a sausage and stuffed it in his mouth. “Mm, still warm.” He tapped his chin. “Needs salt, though.”

He reached for more and Vaela swatted his hand away. “Something’s not right.” She scanned the room. Besides the half-eaten food, nothing seemed out of place, no broken glass or signs of struggle. The door out of the room hung ajar.

A scream pierced the room, coming from deep within the building. Chills raced down Vaela’s spine and she whipped her stick up in front of her. Hermit plucked a sausage from a plate and shook it at Vaela. “You may be right.”

A door slammed and footsteps pounded through the building, drawing nearer. Vaela tightened her grip, her heart racing. The footsteps echoed from the hall beyond the door. That scream had been a woman’s. Vaela backed up to the table until her thigh knocked into it. Had it been the blonde priestess?

The door burst open and a woman with dark hair ran out. Her robes were askew, no weapon in sight. She barely slowed at the sight of them, merely twisting and heading for the exit. Vaela dropped her stick and rushed in front of her. The woman’s eyes were wide and she flinched away. Vaela grabbed her by the shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened here?”

The woman wrestled like a wild animal, squirming to break free. “Kaverlna… she…” The woman shoved Vaela away and stumbled to the side, her shoulder slamming into the wall. “S-sacrificed… no…” She pushed off the wall and Vaela grabbed her wrist. The woman shook free and sprinted out of the room. Her footsteps tapped away followed by the slam of the front door.

Hermit stepped up beside Vaela, half-eaten sausage in hand. “You still wanna talk to this lady?” He bit off another chunk and then popped the rest of the sausage in his mouth.

Vaela’s heart pounded from the encounter. She poked a finger to his chest. “We have to find her. I told you she’s dangerous.” How could he stand there, chewing so calmly? She snatched her stick from the ground and stalked out of the room and down the hall. Something was very wrong.

Sacrificed? That couldn’t be so uncommon here in the Church of Blood. But to terrify that priestess–just how much blood had been Sacrificed? Vaela’s pulse quickened and her steps hitched.

A voice emanated from deeper in the building. Kaverlna’s voice–but different. More guttural, like the words were tearing from her vocal cords.

“–shall serve me and be rewarded.”

Vaela oriented to the sound and wound through the halls. Brackets with candles, spaced throughout the halls, provided flickering light. The walls were painted a faded red, making Vaela slightly nauseous. As she rounded a corner, a pair of wooden doors sprang into sight. One door was ajar, letting Kaverlna’s voice scrape through.

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“–and those true faithful shall ascend to the Peaks and drink of the fount of Blood eternal.”

Vaela’s hand trembled as she reached for the handle. Why was she so scared? Kavelrna was strong, but she had Hermit here. And it was just a conversation. Not a fight, not necessarily. She eased the door open and the hinges groaned.

Priests and priestesses crowded the room in a semi-circle, their backs to her. Kaverlna was out of sight, but at the sound of the door opening, several of the clergy looked back and Kaverlna’s sermon stopped. Her voice rose from the midst of the crowd. “Who dares to intrude upon this sacred ritual?”

The voice sliced through the air with such power, it almost felt like it cut through Vaela’s chest. She stepped back involuntarily. The stench of blood bit at the back of her throat. She thrust her stick in the direction of the voice. “It’s me, Vaela. We need to talk. Alone.”

Silence stretched for a moment, empty but the rustling of robes. “Vaaeellaaa…” Kaverlna said her name like she was tasting it, swirling it around her mouth. “Ah, yes. This one knows of you. Wayward blood. I can feel your Power. Come join us, child.”

Vaela stepped into the room, as if compelled. None of the clergy stopped her, though they didn’t part either. Something was wrong, very wrong. She wove through their ranks and passed the blonde priestess. The woman’s eyes were hooded, her breathing shallow. She was afraid.

A sharp exhale punctuated the room from behind Vaela. She tore her eyes from the priestess and looked back. Hermit stepped into the room, body taut with tension as he jolted to a stop. He lowered his staff into a ready position. So he could sense it too, could smell it. Blood–a lot of it. He shook his head at her, a silent warning not to go any further. But she had to know.

Kaverlna’s voice returned to its normal pitch–higher, but still with a hint of steel. “Yes, come in. He has returned, as I prophesied. The Heart.” She clapped, a wet smacking sound. “Let her in.”

The priests and priestesses shuffled to the side, their rust-colored robes waving with the motion. They parted like a sea of blood. A dead man laid across a wooden table, his abdomen slit open. Over his body, Kaverlna stood. In one hand, a curved knife still dripping; in the other hand, a small bowl, full of blood.

Vaela stumbled back, raising her stick, as if to ward away the horrific scene. She couldn’t avert her eyes from the dead man’s body. To crave power was one thing. To carve it from her own people…

A hand grabbed her shoulder and Vaela jolted. Hermit guided her beside him and her eyes trailed to Kaverlna.

The high priestess snarled and stepped from behind the table. “Hermit!” The guttural returned to her voice, rough with hatred. Her grip tightened on the knife.

Hermit nodded at her and took a step back, pulling Vaela with him. “Inky. You’re looking different. Did you do something with your hair?”

Kaverlna hissed and her eyes slid to Vaela. She took in the mark on Vaela’s arm and stabbed the knife in Hermit’s direction, flinging drops of blood. “You fool. Do you think one of Blood could ever defeat me?” She crept towards them, knife extended out.

Hermit placed his other hand back on the staff. “Easy. It’s not our time yet.” He and Vaela retreated back towards the doors.

“Oh, I have no intent to kill her yet.” Kaverlna raised the bowl to her lips and drank the blood. The bowl clattered to the ground and Kavelrna swept her blade at the gathered clergy. “Surround them.”

The priests and priestesses fanned out through the room and Kaverlna strode forward. Static built through the air, radiating from her. She passed the blonde priestess who shuddered away from her. The blonde priestess glanced back at the dead man’s body and swallowed hard. She raised her hand and an Ice Shard formed and lengthened until it was the size of a knife.

Vaela and Hermit neared the doors and Kaverlna flung a hand out at them. A Bolt of Lightning hurtled across the room and Hermit shoved Vaela to the side. He reached out and the Lightning smashed into his palm. Shadow raged behind his eyes, so strong Vaela could feel it pounding through his blood. The Lightning danced up his arm–and fizzled to nothing, dark webs of Shadow netting under his skin where it sank in. Stunned silence filled the room.

The Shadow faded back under the surface of his skin, churning deep within him. Vaela could feel it, the Power. Not just from him, but Kaverlna, too. More than when she’d burned Gerad. Lightning flowing through her veins, hungry for release. Vaela’s arms trembled, making her stick jitter in the air. That Lightning–she’d seen nothing like it. Surely, death incarnate. And yet Hermit stood before her, completely unharmed. Such Power, to be able to withstand harm of that level. And not just against physical attacks. For Lightning. For other elements? For anything?

Hermit tilted his head and placed his hand back on his staff. “Bit weak, Inky. You feelin’ okay, old man?”

Kaverlna spat on the ground, a mix of saliva tinged with the dead priest’s blood. “I am not fully recovered. No matter.” She raised the knife at Hermit. “Soon, even your Power will be no match for mine.”

The clergy pressed closer, the blonde priestess edging in from the side. Hermit and Vaela reached the doors while Kaverlna approached them until she was only a few paces away. Hermit peered at her then slowly smiled. “Hmm, I’m not so sure about that. Only been half a century.” He stepped aside and Vaela slid past him out into the hall. “I think you’re not recovered.” Hermit jabbed his staff in Kaverlna’s direction. “I think you’re a teensy bit weak, aren’t you?”

Kaverlna’s eyes widened, her nostrils flaring. She twisted to the priest next to her and tore the sword from his hands. “Capture them! I want the girl alive.”