7 years ago.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the vaults of the catacombs. Dimly lit torches led the way to the meeting place, which had only recently been revealed. Everything, as usual, was carefully planned and shrouded in the strictest secrecy. The Preacher had no equal when it came to organizing such clandestine gatherings. How else could their cult, their faith, survive when the rest of the world was blinded and hated them for knowing the Truth? Even kings, sages, and the greatest sorcerers of the past and present couldn't fathom the meaning revealed by Him to those who dedicated their lives to faith and service.

Walking on uneven cobblestones, partly overgrown with moss, Gedar felt his heart flutter with anticipation. Anticipation of something sacred, divine, as warned by the Preacher in his encrypted message. The only thing that worried him was that he would have to face her again...

— Oh, my glorious knight has arrived!

Damn her...

— Gedar, Gedar, Gedar! How long I have awaited our meeting! — a slender feminine figure emerged from the shadows, discarding her cloak on the move.

A horrific smile, more a grimace, appeared on the face of the "stranger," an unmistakable attribute of this most unpleasant individual.

— Why so silent, my knight? Do you find my appearance displeasing?

— No matter what skin you wear, Anirvala, you can't change your nature.

— My dear, rough knight, I told you that it's not about the skin. Well, for the next time, I'll find a plumper maiden. Or taller. Which would you prefer?

— A silent one.

— Well, some things can't be changed, — she smirked.

She tried to grab his hand, but Gedar stepped back, circled around her, and continued further into the catacombs towards the meeting place.

— But at least you noticed how delicate and fair-skinned that peasant girl was, didn't you? Amazing for a peasant! Though nothing else about her stands out, really. But I chose her to my taste. Well, tell me, how did you like her? Come on!

Why is someone like her granted a place here? Why is she privy to the Truth as well? Every encounter with her had been more or less the same, only the body she used changed. Only this ability could Gedar perceive as something that granted her such privileges among their believers. But the Preacher had a better understanding of whom to include in the inner circle. At the end of the corridor, a wide wooden door came into view.

— You have matured even more since our last meeting. Will you show me what new scars you've been lucky enough to get? I hope there are a lot of them, and I will be able to examine each ...

— Greetings, Gedar. Greetings, Anirvala, — Brumgard stood right in front of the door, a grim dwarf with a beard almost as long as himself.

He braided it into two tight plaits, occasionally tucking them behind his belt to avoid them hindering his movements. It was said that he was a skilled master in matters concerning stones and their craftsmanship, and that almost all of their recent statues and stone utensils were his work. However, he preferred not to boast about it, even though his skill definitely deserved recognition.

— I'm pleased to see you in good health, Master, — Gedar bowed.

— Oh, come on, it's just a small matter...

— But you're pleased to see him, and not me? Is it because of the braids? Do you have a thing for dwarves? Who would've thought so of such a glorious knight...

— Since everyone else has already arrived, I suggest we begin, — said the Preacher.

All three turned around, startled. It was something they could never get used to — the Preacher standing right behind them. Just a few seconds ago, Gedar could have sworn that no one was following him, and no one was hiding in the niches and passages of the catacombs except Anirvala. The old man always appeared behind them at exactly the moment when preaching or gatherings were about to begin. With his long gray hair, half-blind but piercing gaze, thin lips, and frail hands with translucent sagging skin that revealed the veins, the Preacher remained unchanged from one encounter to the next, unlike the other believers in Gedar's circle. The knight, the witch, and the master of stonecraft bowed low before the old man, placing their palms together in a gesture of greeting: the middle, ring, and index fingers pressed together, while the index and pinky fingers extended forward, forming a diamond shape. This gesture held numerous sacred meanings and messages, depending on how the other fingers were positioned, known only to the initiated. Sometimes even Gedar would get confused by these signs. The old man approached them and placed his hands on each of their shoulders in turn.

— Let us begin, my brothers and sister. The others are already waiting.

With a sprightly movement that defied his age, the Preacher opened the door to a spacious hall with high ceilings and excellent lighting, starkly different from the catacombs they were in. In the center of the room stood a massive wooden table shaped like a ring, with a small pedestal in the center and a passage leading to it. About three dozen believers from different clans, races, and social classes had gathered in the hall. While the initiated were mostly prominent figures, occasionally there were simple traders, craftsmen, and knights like Gedar among them. He was always amazed by how faith brought together people of diverse backgrounds, and that every believer, regardless of their contribution, would be granted the Truth... when He finally brought it into this world.

For each of the gathered believers, except for the Preacher, who immediately proceeded to the pedestal at the center of the room, a polished silver chalice was prepared, reflecting the flickering flames of the lit candles that illuminated the hall. As soon as the Preacher ascended the pedestal, all the believers took their seats around the table, waiting in complete silence for his speech. Gedar glanced at the gathered individuals once again. He recognized a few of them, but he was particularly pleased to see Zerdraba, the respected master of rituals with dark skin, and Junistirya, the half-elf lady, a bastard from a once wealthy and renowned elven lineage. Many considered Zerdraba to be the right hand of the Preacher, and both Junistirya and Gedar underwent the initiation on the same day, which, in his opinion, made them more than mere acquaintances and believers, although they did not interact much. Finally, the Preacher raised his slender hands above his head, forming the gesture of greeting.

— There is no beginning to the Truth, there is no end to the Truth, — he proclaimed, and his voice echoed off the round walls of the hall.

— The Truth is the beginning, the Truth is the end, — the others responded in unison.

— I am pleased to see you, brothers and sisters, — the old man swept his gaze over all the believers, pausing at the one empty chair, — Sadly, not all of us have lived to witness this moment.

— Does it concern Nistifol? — Anirvala broke away from studying Gedar's profile, who was sitting two chairs away from her, and nodded her head toward the vacant seat.

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— Our brother, Nistifol, fulfilled His Will at the cost of his own life. That is why we have gathered today. And until his soul finds oblivion in the Truth, let us carry the memory of him until Its arrival.

— May the Truth embrace him, — all the attendees made the hand gesture and bowed their heads.

— With his deeds, Nistifol has granted us an unprecedented opportunity—we will be able to bring His coming closer, so that He may reveal the Truth sooner.

— What did our little lover of trade exchange his life for? — one of those sitting across from Gedar, a serpent-like merchant who was recently initiated, inquired with interest, his head swaying from side to side with what appeared to be nervously abrupt movements. His sinister green eyes, with predatory vertical pupils, surveyed the others.

— Nifistol managed to find and bring us three obelisks made of pure alopharite, which have been hidden from us for so long.

Zerdraaba almost jumped up from his seat.

— Preacher, does this mean that we can...

— Yes, my brother, we can not only weaken His imprisonment but also satisfy the hunger of the Truth by bringing a fragment of It directly into our imperfect world. What else can it be if not His Divine Will?

The hall filled with the joyful buzz of discussion, while Gedar silently observed excited believers. Suddenly, Anirvala pulled out a thin stiletto hidden within her garments and menacingly waved it, cutting through the air.

— Who... Who did this? Who killed Nisti? — she exclaimed, driving the stiletto into the table, leaving it sticking out, — Was it this all-knowing sorcerer? Or his lackeys? That grump with the crossbow?

— Those with weak eyes follow the blind man who screams that he sees better than anyone, but he leads them only to the precipice. But that is not what I wanted to share with you today, brothers and sisters, for our brother Zerdraba is right in saying that through our deeds, we can bring the Truth closer. Therefore, we must choose the one who will carry and fulfill His Will.

— This will be a highly intricate ritual, sir, requiring extensive preparations and sacrifices, — Zerdraaba gazed at the old man in admiration.

— I have pondered this, my brother, and I shall share my plan. Once His Will finds its bearer, — the Preacher waved his hands, and all the chalices were instantly filled with a thick orange liquid, — drink, so that the most worthy may be chosen.

— May His Will be fulfilled, may it bring forth the Truth, — everyone, except for the Preacher, raised and emptied their designated chalice.

A couple of seconds of silence were abruptly interrupted, as expected, by Anirvala.

— Oh, oh, I sense it! I sense it!

— What do you sense, sister?

— I sense that it is not I who has been chosen by Him. It saddens me so, sir. Who could console me?

Gedar looked at the contorting witch with disdain. How was she even accepted into the inner circle? She belonged among the lowly acolytes, tending to the catacombs and studying the basic tenets of their faith... Suddenly, a strong, searing pain pierced his neck, closer to the right shoulder. Unable to bear it, he groaned and grabbed the suddenly throbbing spot, noticing from the corner of his eye that the ritual master and the stone carver sitting opposite him had done the same.

— It appears that everything happened as I anticipated. Congratulations to you, brothers, for His Will has chosen you! — the Preacher looked at Gedar, Zerdraba, and Brumgard with his piercing gaze.

The knight pushed back the collar of his cloak to inspect the burn mark — a mark in the shape of a circumscribed diamond — visible through the skin.

— What must we fulfill, sir? — the pain subsided, replaced by reverence and joy.

He had been chosen. He couldn't help but smile.

— I shall reveal my plan to you once the others have departed, for they have other tasks assigned to them in His glory. I thank you, brothers and sisters, for responding to the call of the Truth, and may the dark light of this world never forsake you in these challenging times. Soon, we shall be part of it, for no doors can hide the Truth.

— Since the Truth is the beginning, the Truth is the end, — everyone except the Preacher and the three chosen ones began to leave the hall.

Anirvala hesitated for a moment, and her — not her — maiden face contorted into a painful, familiar grimace of a hideous smile.

— Oh, my dear Gedar! How delightful it is to realize that my chosen one is also the chosen one of Truth!

Having said that, the witch hurriedly departed, bowing to the Preacher one last time. Gedar frowned.

— So, my brothers, let us discuss how we shall fulfill His Will.

— Where should I begin, sir? — Gedar was still bewildered and couldn't fully grasp why he had been chosen, — And why me? I'm just a simple knight...

— Much is destined for you, my brother, but much will also depend on your own efforts to carry His Will and, with it, the Truth itself, — the Preacher looked earnestly into Gedar's eyes, — Rejoice, for you are the chosen one!

— My lord, may I look at... the stones? — Brumgard was clearly enthused and eager to start working, — It might take some time. I have not encountered this type of material before, and I need to study it carefully.

— We have time, my brother. We have time in reserve. But let us use it wisely. Brother Gedar, how is your service progressing?

— As I mentioned, my lord, I am just a knight... My men and I are trusted only with minor conflicts in the region. But it is worth noting that everyone in my unit shares our faith.

— Excellent, excellent. But your unit will be insufficient to fulfill His Will. Therefore, it is necessary to find more trustworthy individuals, brother.

— I will take care of that, my lord, but...

— But you are just a knight, you say? Believe me, my brother, it is within your power to rectify this for His glory.

— My lord, does this mean that we will repeat... that massacre? Won't it reveal too much? The ritual will require many, many sacrifices... — Zerdraba, jingling with numerous pendants beneath his mantle, pulled out a stack of scrolls from somewhere and spread them on the table in front of him, glancing between them and the Preacher.

— We shall do everything in secret, my brother. We must utilize the opportunities granted to us by His Will. And patiently await the revelation of the whereabouts of the two remaining relics.

— The relics... — Brumgard pondered, stroking his braids thoughtfully. — My lord, are you referring to the Runic Blades?

— Yes, my brother, relics from the past that will set Him free and bring the Truth into our distorted world.

— Perhaps we should focus our attention on finding them? — the ritual master continued to study the scrolls, — How much time will it take for us to gather people, resources to open an alopharite portal, and arrange everything properly and in secret? Maybe it would be better to search for the remaining blades?

— Patience, my brother, all will be according to His Will. As long as the keys to the cage remain hidden from us, it is not yet time to unlock it. He will show us the way when the time comes.

— But we could gather those that are already known. If I gather enough people...

Gedar abruptly fell silent, realizing that he should not contradict the Preacher. The old man simply looked at him gently, smiling slightly.

— I appreciate your enthusiasm, my brother, but even a legion would not be enough to contend with a single relic. And when two of them are in the hands of one person... It is not strength that is needed, no, it is cunning. But there is no need to fear them either: as long as the relics do not serve their true purpose, they are merely foolish tools, misused or concealed. Therefore, we can only rely on His Will and wait for the time when all the keys will be visible, so that we can gather them all at once and open the path to the Truth. But we have been distracted, brothers. Let us ponder on the immediate matters.

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Three moons ago.

He had been walking towards this for seven long years. Seven years of service under the false king-emperor, seven years of preparation and planning. His six cohorts — almost half the legion — were well-disciplined and filled with his faith. Some soldiers who adhered to different beliefs would have to be dealt with along the way, but that was not too great a sacrifice. In those seven years, he had given up even more, advancing in the service of the detestable kingdom. But soon they would shed this facade and reveal themselves to the world once again...

Determined to carry out the Preacher's plan, to fulfill His Will, they only needed to reach Derinrond. Their brothers and sisters had thoroughly scoured every corner of the city, ensuring that there were no prying eyes of the accursed sorcerer or others who could hinder them. And the rest of the details fell into place perfectly: as a devotee of the King in the Far Lands, Vizier Pares-ur would not suspect their intentions — by the King's order, they would bring slaves to Eklat as replacements for the rebellious peasants. And once he would hand over the slaves, it would be too late — masks could be discarded in the desert. They would all become sacrifices, sating His hunger, and they would become the foundation that would open the door and let the Truth into this world, even if only a small fraction of it...

Gedar turned around, and behind him, at a distance of fifty steps, three covered wagons were slowly moving. Along with provisions, they carried smoothly hewn alopharite obelisks crafted by Brumgard. Two months of travel – and the Preacher's plan would finally come to fruition. After seven long years...

But soon His Will would befulfilled, and he, Gedar, His chosen one, would ensure that. He would be sated,He would become closer to them, and He would bring the Truth.