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The pain came a moment later, washing through her like a wildfire. She barely even noticed when Galin shoved her legs off of him and scrambled to his feet before darting into the dark tunnel, other than when the movement pulled at the skin over her ribs and sent a spike of agony through her torn flesh.

"You should not have interfered, priestess," the lupine god rumbled where it stood behind Kel. "Why did you throw yourself in front of my claws?"

"I was trying to stop Kel," she gasped. She tried to sit up, but any movement of her core muscles only served to increase the pain of her injuries. She didn't know how bad she was hurt. She couldn't see the cuts through the torn fabric of her tunic and the shirt underneath, but she was certain she had never bled so much in her life.

Kel seemed frozen, standing with his sword held low, only his white knuckles revealing his tension. He was watching her face closely. No, her eyes. He was watching where she was looking. Her gaze floated back to the god. She wondered if she was going to die. She could feel the wet warmth of her own blood creeping under her back.

"We both wish to save the boy. He prayed to me, and I will answer. He is the first worshipper I have had since the westerners slaughtered the nomadic tribes, and I will not deafen myself to his voice. And so, the paladin must die. Do you object, priestess?"

He loomed over Kel, who was unaware of the monstrous presence behind him… or so Lyra thought. She felt odd, like everything was a little faded. Fuzzy. Dreamlike. Maybe this was all a nightmare, and she was about to wake up.

The claws on the god's long fingers were covered in blood. Her blood. Despite the torn metal of his armor, Kel didn't seem to be bleeding; the steel had done its job despite the damage it had taken in the process. Lyra wondered how he would fix it, then realized her mind was wandering and refocused on the god. It had asked her something, hadn't it? A drop of blood welled up on the tip of one of its claws and dripped to the floor, splattering in a dark stain against the stone next to Kel's boot.

Kel exploded into motion, bringing his sword up at the same time as he turned in place. The blade stabbed out, and the sharp edge of the steel cut into the god's arm. The god didn't bleed, but the edges of the cut glowed, and the god roared, a horrible sound that seemed to resonate in her bones.

The god lashed out at Kel with its uninjured arm, but the blow hit the metal of his armor again. The metal tore with an unearthly shriek, and Kel rocked back with the strike, then used it to orient himself and bring the sword down in another strike. This time, his blade caught the god across the chest, leaving a glowing cut diagonally from its shoulder to its abdomen.

Striking with the speed of a snake, speed that should have been impossible for such a large creature, the god's mouth closed over Kel's shoulder and it flung him into the cavern wall, where he collapsed to the floor with a grunt and a clatter. Then the god turned toward her, and she could only stare as it stalked over to her. It stood above her, one of its clawed hands smearing through the pool of her blood as it lowered its head to examine her injury.

"Devote yourself to me and I will heal you, priestess," it rumbled, its hot breath stinging as it washed over her side. "I will give you my Blessing of the Hunter. You will be able to take my form as your own whenever you wish, and I shall be with you always. You will never be weak again."

In her peripheral vision, she saw Kel getting to his feet, but the god ignored him as it lowered its muzzle to the bleeding gashes on her side. She felt its rough tongue against her skin as it lapped at her blood, and she found the strength to push her left hand — her uninjured side — against its skull. It felt warm and alive under her palm, its fur rough and wiry.

"Stop it." The words came out as a hoarse whisper. She pushed, but she wasn't strong enough to move it away. The thought of it drinking her blood made her skin crawl.

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It lifted its muzzle and her hand slipped off its head. The glowing wounds on its chest and arm were still there, but they seemed dimmer, as if it was healing already. It moved so it was above her, looking down into her face. She could smell nothing but the iron and rot on its breath.

"Don't you wish to be strong and swift, priestess? Don't you wish to live? Do you not wish to know the joy of racing under the tall trees, of feeling the flex and stretch of your tireless muscles as you chase after your prey? Your new gods are tame and worthless. The interlopers feared the old gods because they feared power. Power I can give you. You must only devote yourself to me, and I can give you whatever you want. You want something, I can feel it in your soul, an aching, grasping desire. Pray to me, before you succumb to your wounds and your soul is left unclaimed."

"No."

Even though her voice was weak, the denial was not. Despite how much she still didn't know about this world, there wasn't a single doubt in her mind that she would regret agreeing to what this god was asking. Towr had taken her language in exchange for teaching her Moldaran. What would this god take? If souls were real, it might not just be her life on the line.

Behind the god, Kel had made it to his feet. He moved stiffly, as if he was injured, but he still had his sword in his hand, and he began moving slowly toward her. The god either didn't notice or didn't care as it traced a bloody claw down her cheek.

"I will kill the paladin, and I will slaughter anyone else who enters this cavern. You will bleed out in the darkness, priestess. Perhaps your skeleton will keep me company in the coming years, or perhaps the boy will bury your corpse when the stench of rotting flesh gets too great. Either way, you will be dead and your soul lost. Or you can live, and with my blessing, become something magnificent. All you have to do is ask for it."

She shook her head, and the cavern spun. She had lost a lot of blood. How much blood could someone lose before they died? Did they have blood transfusions here? Fear, something primal and desperate, sparked in her heart. She didn't want to die. She didn't want whatever this god was offering, but… she didn't want to die.

Kel was closer now, only a few feet away from the god, but of course, he couldn't see it. The god was focused on her intently, waiting for her answer. She shivered. The cavern was getting cold.

"I…"

"Tell me your prayers, priestess." The god lowered its head so its muzzle was right above her face. Its rough tongue licked her forehead from her brows to her hairline. "I am listening."

"Its head is a foot above mine."

The god cocked its head, staring at her in puzzlement for a long second before it turned to look over its shoulder at Kel, but it was too late. Kel was already striking, his sword falling in a soundless arc through the air above her. It slowed when it struck the god's neck, but continued through, leaving a glowing white line where it passed through the god.

The god screamed and lunged toward Kel, but unlike the shallower cuts along its arm and chest the cut through its neck bled light. The glowing globules vanished as they fell from its body, but already, the god's lupine form — once as solid and real to her as Kel was — was beginning to turn transluscent. It struck Kel across the chest with one clawed hand, but instead of tearing through the metal, it simply dented it.

Kel struck again, burying the sword in its chest. The god jerked back, but the oddly liquid light poured even more swiftly from this wound. It turned on Lyra with a snarl, its long teeth stained pink with the blood it had lapped from her side, but she could see Kel through it now. When he raised his sword again, the god leaped over her and fled down the same dark tunnel Galin had vanished down.

"It's gone," Lyra whispered when Kel's sword swung harmlessly through the air. "Tunnel."

She couldn't think of anything else to say. Everything was spinning, and she felt like she hadn't slept for a long time. Days, maybe. She was cold, too, but there was nothing she could do about that. She was vaguely aware of Kel dropping to his knees beside her, but it wasn't until his hands pressed against her side and the pain from her injuries reared its ugly head again that she realized he was trying to help her instead of chasing after the god.

"I must move you onto your side, priestess. There are healing supplies in my pack, but it's underneath you."

"Am I dying?"

"You aren't going to die. It's just a little blood."

She hissed as he pushed her far enough onto her good side that he could drag his pack out from beneath her. When he laid her on her back again and undid the ties keeping the backpack shut, his hands were covered in her blood. 'Just a little blood' seemed like an understatement to her, but she held onto his words nonetheless.

He was a lot more reassuring than the god had been, at least.