Deep darkness. Heavy breathing. The echo of feet on stone.

Adan walked blindly, led by the pulling rope for a few moments. It sounded like they were being led through a stone corridor. Even though there was an open door behind them, and the sun shone outside, very little light made its way through the entrance.

Within moments, the echoing sounds changed and Adan guessed that they had entered a large room.

“Halt,” Hugo’s voice came from the front.

The group stopped and listened expectantly.

Red light burst the silence. Firelight exploded as a dozen torches illuminated the walls of a vast circular chamber. The torches were ensconced evenly around the room and revealed the inside of the Temple of Sithril.

Undelma was hollow, an empty black cone. The group stood on a platform that ringed the outside wall of the temple. In the center of the chamber, an iron railing separated them from a large, dark pit. To his right, a stone staircase with large shallow steps led slowly up the sides of the walls, creeping inwards with the shape of the strange temple. Lining the walls next to every single step was an iron cage. The endless spiral of stairs and cages ran up along walls, disappearing past the reach of the torchlight.

The lone figure of a man, robed in a white cloak, stood a dozen paces in front of Commander Hugo with his arms stretched out. No other human figure was present. There had been no one present to light the torches. Adan noticed the man’s fingers seemed unnaturally long, as if they had grown an extra inch past the usual size. His face was invisible under his hood.

“The fires of Undelma blaze again!” A man’s deep voice emanated from the figure. “Welcome Commander Hugo. I presume you bring more gifts for the Lord of the Pit.”

Hugo bowed to the figure without a word.

“Then may the master accept our offering, and may he continue to grant us his favor, until the end is achieved. From flesh to spirit…”

“….From spirit to flesh,” their captors continued the chant. “All will see the domination of the One!”

The white figure took a step forward. “How many are there?”

“Thirteen,” Hugo replied.

Only thirteen? Adan realized he had never actually counted how many warriors had been captured.

“Enough for three,” the robed man said, with a hint of excitement in his voice.

Adan shivered when he heard it. Three what?

The figure rubbed his long-fingered hands together. “You’ve done well commander. Your name is known to the One. Of that I am sure.”

Hugo bowed again.

Then, without a word, the commander and his men turned and walked past the prisoners and out the door. The captives were left standing, tied together at the wrists, seemingly alone with the man in the white robe.

Adan, Kian, and Rocco looked at each other. Adan saw the urgency in Kian’s eyes. Had they just been handed a means of escape? They had no weapons, but surely nineteen could overcome one man, even while bound at the hands. But Rocco looked doubtful and shook his head.

The man raised his hands again and addressed the remaining men before him. “Welcome to Undelma. I am Dias, the Chief Priest of Sithril. I hope your stay will be a fruitful one.”

He remained silent, as if expecting them to answer.

Rocco stepped forward. “What do you intend to do with us?”

Dias used one long forefinger to pull his cowl back and reveal his face. He was hairless, not only on his head, but on his face as well. His eyebrows looked as if they had been shaved off. His face was heart shaped, with a long thin nose, and skin, paler than any Adan had ever seen. His hue was equal to the white of his robes.

The pale priest looked at Rocco and smiled. “You are a few of many who have come to this place in recent weeks. Your coming, and the coming of others, is brought about so that the long awaited return of the One we serve may finally be realized.”

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Rocco frowned. “‘The One you serve…’ You mean Sithril? This is Sithril’s temple, correct?”

Dias nodded, still smiling.

“Then what do you mean, his ‘long awaited return’? And how can our presence here affect that?”

“That shall become evident soon.”

Adan leaned in to whisper to Kian. “Do you know who Sithril is?”

Kian shook his head. “I’m not sure. Some famous commander from hundreds of years ago. Before the founding of Esta.”

Rocco shook his head at the priest. “You’re barking mad. Maker help you.”

Dias’s smile disappeared. “You will not speak so flippantly once you have seen what Shithril has done for us, what we know, and what we can do.”

Rocco actually smiled at the deranged priest. “Try me.”

Dias’s face, twisted by rage, slowly transformed into a crooked grin. “Very well.”

He clapped his hands twice, and a trap door opened in the floor behind him. A stream of men in white cloaks climbed out of the opening and surrounded the prisoners. Their faces were invisible beneath their hoods and they all held long hiltless daggers in their hands. More than thirty of them emerged from the lower level and stood surrounding their captives.

Adan’s heart began to pound and he prepared himself for the worst.

“Take the newcomers to their quarters,” Dias instructed. “We will begin the first Coralyd tonight.”

The acolytes herded the prisoners over to the staircase and up the first of the long stone steps. When they had gone four steps up, they began cutting the long rope that the captives were bound to. Then they opened one of the cage doors and placed five prisoners inside. Then they moved to the next cage and instructed another five to enter the cage. When the cell door had been closed, only three prisoners remained: Rocco, Kian, and Adan. They were placed in the third cage together, the only cell to not have five men in it.

When the acolytes had completed their task, they streamed wordlessly down the steps and back into the trapdoor they had emerged from.

During this whole process, Dias hadn’t moved from his place in the middle of the main floor. Before the trap door closed, he clapped his hands together once more. The ring of torches ensconced on the wall went out instantly, plunging them into complete darkness.

Adan breathed a sigh of relief. They weren’t going to die, at least not yet.

Silence reigned for a moment in the vast emptiness of Undelma.

“Well, this is a bit of a pickle,” Kian said at length.

“What do you think they plan to do with us?” Adan asked. He couldn’t see Rocco in the blackness, but he could hear his breathing and directed his question in Rocco’s direction.

“I don’t care to guess. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

“Do you know who Sithril is?”

“He was Luxes the Conqueror’s right hand man, during the Scouring of Accenoah. The story goes that he turned bad and dabbled in some wicked art, trying to reach the spirit realm. It seems these people are keeping up the tradition.”

Adan remembered the large pit in the center of the chamber behind Dias the Priest. “Do you know what kind of things he would have done to reach the spirit realm?”

“No. One does not like to dwell on such things.”

“Things like human sacrifice?” Kian asked.

He had said exactly what Adan was thinking.

Rocco sighed. “I’ve heard the word ‘Coralyd’ before. It’s some kind of ritual to appease and possibly befriend a spirit.”

Silence reigned in the darkness for another long moment.

“So in all likelihood, we are all going to die here,” Kian said.

“If these lunatics get their way, yes. But I for one don’t plan to go quietly.”

Adan heard a thump as Kian sat on the stone floor.

“Well, if this is the end, there’s no one else I’d rather die with than you lot.”

Despite the fear and the darkness, Adan felt warmth in his chest.

“Agreed,” he grunted.

Rocco remained silent.

Adan sat on the floor, and he heard Rocco do the same. They heard whispers and mutters coming from the other three cages near them. Some of the warriors had heard their conversation and were relaying what Rocco had said to the other men. Adan overheard the words, “…got to stay strong,” and “…my poor wife won’t know,” and “Rocco told that Priest who was who.”

Adan leaned his head back against the bars. The headache he had nursed in the hull of the enemy ship was reduced, but not gone. He was grateful to rest without lying in filth and sewage, but trepidation prevented him from sleeping.

After a short time, the whispers of the other prisoners disappeared, and the temple was silent again.

Adan would have expected the knowledge of his impending death to prevent him from resting, but somehow, he felt a steady calm wash over him. In fact, he felt more peaceful than he had in a long time, sitting in the darkness, waiting to die.

Adan was well acquainted with death. He had even wished for it at one time in his life.

Then Adan thought of Kian; Kian the man betrothed to a beautiful girl who loved him; Kian the heir to the seat of Farel, and every bit the son of his Father; Kian, his best friend who had been there for Adan during the hardest time of his life; Kian who had given him a new home, a new family, a new life.

Adan did not know what horrors awaited them, but he hoped he could prove his loyalty and his gratitude to his friend. He would sell his life dearly before allowing Kian to be murdered.