Adan faded in and out of awareness, in a fitful rest.

Images of giant serpents, broken bodies, and gaping mouths, haunted his subconscious mind, jolting him awake. One of the prisoners in the other cell had been sick during the Coralyd, and the combined smell of blood and vomit infused the empty air.

The hours seemed to crawl by.

After jolting awake for the seventh time, he heard a voice speaking quietly in the darkness.

Kian was talking quietly, apparently to whoever would listen.

“…when my father told me I needed to go to her father and get permission, I was terrified. I mean, I’d always known I would need to talk to him before I could be betrothed, but I didn’t know him very well, and once it actually came down to it, I dreaded the thought of asking for his blessing.”

Kian was silent for a moment.

“I think he could tell I was nervous, because he just sat there listening to me without a word, frowning the entire time. Once I finally stammered out the question, he just stared at me, looking like he wanted to turn me inside out. Then he leaned forward and just said, ‘Yes.’ I just stared back at him, and then he grinned at me. ‘She’s been wondering when you were going to ask me.’”

“I’ve been in many dangerous situations,” Rocco’s voice echoed in the dark. So someone else was listening. “But I think I was never more afraid then when I asked my Angela’s father for her hand.”

“You’re married?” Kian asked.

“I was,” said Rocco. “Smallpox, eight years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Adan spoke out. “The same plague took my father as well.”

A brief silence.

“How old were you?” Rocco asked.

“Nine.”

“Your mother.”

“Died when I was born.”

Rocco sighed. “That’s hard, lad.”

“I had Kian, and his father took me in afterwards. He trained me up like his own son. I’ve much to be thankful for.”

“What about that lass back on Enys Island?”

Despite everything, Adan smiled. “Layla. My father took her in when she was about seven. An orphan like me. But when my father died, she still had family on Enys Island, so she had to live with them.”

Rocco was silent for a long moment.

“I suppose they’ll all wonder what happened to us eventually,” said Kian.

“Don’t go there,” Rocco replied. “We’re not dead yet.”

“Where do you think they found that creature?” Asked Adan. “I thought they were extinct.”

“Most people do,” said Rocco, “but no one knows what lives in the depths of the ocean, or what dwells on the high peaks of the Giths, or what else lurks in the deep caverns beneath our feet. I wouldn’t be surprised if this temple, and even this city, was built around that… thing’s lair.”

“I know the conquerors of old used to kill drynths during the Scouring,” said Kian. “I don’t suppose any of the stories actually mention how they killed it.”

A long silence.

“We can’t give up hope,” said Rocco. “As soon as we do that, they’ve won.”

“I suppose,” said Kian, “but it seems pretty pointless to hope right now.”

“Now’s when you need it more than ever,” replied Rocco. “Even if we don’t survive, we can’t let them get to us. I’d rather die with my head held high than cowering in despair.”

Adan nodded, even though he knew they couldn’t see him.

Then, out of the silence, came a quiet voice from the cage next to them.

One of the young warriors, who had apparently been listening, began to sing, quietly at first. But as he intoned the melody, his voice grew bolder and louder. Several other warriors stirred when he began to sing. Some of them recognized the tune and began to sing along.

Kian and Rocco joined in the tune, until the sound of their enthusiastic voices began to fill the darkness. Adan could hear them standing up, one by one, as they sang.

The sun begins her red descent.

The working day is swiftly spent.

We long to break our toiling fast

To end our day at board at last

Hurrah! My lands, we ride for home,

Through fen and forest, field and ford,

Return we now to hearth and hall

To feast and toast and rest at board.

Adan recognized the song. His father used to sing it for Lord Hathian. It was one of his favorites. Years of avoiding the sound of a harp and trying to forget happy memories of his father had done nothing to make him forget the sweet tune.

His instinct told him to walk away, just as he had always done in the past. But he knew he couldn’t. Then, as the hopeful song resounded through the dark temple, he decided he wasn’t going to listen to that instinct anymore.

We’ll toast the feats our fellows wrought,

We’ll eat the meaty trophy brought

In from the wild and wooded lands

Before meeting our hunting bands.

For the first time in eight years, Adan allowed himself to remember. He remembered his father’s bold voice and his skillful hands as they plucked the harp. He remembered his loud laugh, his strong arms that used to hold and hug Adan. He wished he could remember his smell, a unique musk that Adan could never seem to find.

Adan felt the tears start in his eyes as the pain of grief, so long submerged, washed over him like a wave. What did it matter? He was about to die. He was at the end of a short life, surrounded by brothers, singing of hearth and home.

Our flowing cups of honey mead

Be overfilled, and sweet indeed

As fellowship, and food at board,

And friends who share their work’s reward.

He wanted to sing with them, but his throat had constricted and when he tried to open his mouth, a sob escaped. He hadn’t wept in years, but he made up for it now. Heaving on his knees, he covered his face with his hands.

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He felt a strong grip on his shoulder. Kian had found him in the dark and was gripping him tightly, still singing.

Hurrah! My lands, we ride for home,

Through fen and forest, field and ford,

Return we now to hearth and hall

To feast and toast and rest at board.

The song ended, and Adan wiped the tears from his eyes and stood.

Rocco began another song, a rousing sea shanty, and this time, Adan was able to sing.

(Two verses)

Their voices rose until the temple rang with their deep resound.

A light appeared beneath them. A trapdoor had opened and a single candle was visible.

“Silence!” Dias’s voice cut through the cacophony.

Some of the warriors obeyed his command, but Rocco and Kian ignored him, singing even louder. The other warriors joined them again, raising the volume.

“I said SILENCE!!” Dias roared.

“Louder!” Adan shouted. “Sing louder!”

Another trap door opened and more candles appeared in the dark below.

Dias tried to shout over the singing, but the prisoners drowned him out.

With a snarl, the Chief Priest gestured to a handful of his followers and began walking toward the steps. A dozen others trailed close behind. When they reached the cages, they took their knives out of the folds of their cloaks and stood waiting.

(The rest of the song)

As the last note faded into the emptiness, Dias stepped toward the cage with his knife pointed straight at Rocco.

“Any more of that,” he hissed, “and you won’t live to see another Coralyd. We’ll start killing you, one by one.”

Rocco held his gaze for a moment before answering. “I don’t know about you lads, but I’d rather die on one of those knives than as food for that mindless beast.”

“If you kill us,” added Kian, “then you won’t have any more offerings for your precious snake.”

Dias didn’t answer. He stood shaking with fury.

Rocco stepped forward. “Do your worst, priest.”

The rest of the prisoners moved toward the bars, standing close enough that the acolytes could have stabbed all of them through the bars if they wanted to.

“Kill us all,” Kian said. “But we’ll all sing, down to the last man.”

“I could cut out your tongues,” said the priest.

“Then we’ll hum and stomp our feet,” replied Kian.

Dias glowered at Kian, but he sheathed his knife.

Rocco and Kian smiled.

“Not for long,” Dias muttered before walking away.

The prisoners watched as the defeated priests filed down the steps, across the main floor, and into their trap door. The door clicked shut, hiding the candlelight and filling the temple with darkness again.

But the darkness didn’t seem so endless this time.

Kian turned his back to the bars and sat down. “That felt good.”

The rest of the prisoners returned to where they had been sitting or laying previously.

When Adan found his place again, sleep overtook him easily. He breathed deeply as he shut his eyes, content and peaceful.

Adan awoke to a bright light hitting his face. Emerald luminesce trickled down from above and gently stirred him awake. He peeked his eyes open and looked around.

He was in a glade, laying on a bed of leaves and flowers, some kind of ground cover he didn’t recognize. Slender birch saplings rose from the ground, reaching their branches to the heavens and creating a green canopy overhead. Adan heard birdsong and the sound of running water.

He sat up, feeling like he had slept in after a long, restful night. He looked around, and saw what looked like a break in the tree line, to his right. Morning sunlight shone in that direction. Adan got to his feet slowly.

A familiar sound came to his ears. A light plucking on a stringed instrument. Adan felt his heartbeat quicken. The sound came from where the trees ended.

He slowly began to walk in the direction of the sound. He squinted as the sunlight grew brighter and held a hand to his face. When he left the tree line, his eyes adjusted and he found himself in a strange garden.

Large leaf plants, the likes of which he had never seen before, sat next to tall slender trees, bordered by flowers. Their sweet fragrance filled Adan’s nostrils. Soft turf lay on the ground, and a white morning mist hung in the air, magnifying the morning light.

Adan walked deeper into the garden, following the sound of the music. He rounded a clump of giant plants with great pink buds that smelled sweeter than the finest oils he had ever smelled, and came to an opening in the garden.

A small stream ran through the opening, snaking through the grass in long curves. In the center of the clearing, by the stream, sat a large tree with low branches hanging out, heavy laden with a round, reddish fruit, too large to be apples.

The tree’s roots rose and fell as they spread outward, rolling and creating humps in the grass, and on one of these humps, a man sat along, playing a harp.

Adan knew him at once.

His dirty blond hair, his wide shoulders and strong arms wrapped around the harp, his long fingers playing the instrument. He looked exactly as Adan had remembered him.

And yet, he looked different. Both younger and older at the same time. The vigor and energy of youth blended with experience and wisdom, making Adan’s father appear more lordly than he ever had.

He stopped playing and looked up, right at Adan. Their eyes met, and Adan saw recognition, then joy, and finally pride.

“Adan,” was all he said, but Adan heard the warmth and love in his tone.

Adan looked at his surroundings before looking at his father.

“This isn’t real,” he said. “It’s just a dream. But I’ll see you soon.”

Adan’s father shook his head. “This may be a dream, but how do you know that that’s all it is? How do you know it’s just a dream?”

He paused before continuing. “And you still have work to do. Don’t be so eager to join me.”

Adan looked at the ground. “But I’ve missed you… so much.”

“And I you. The joy of this place will only be complete for me when you can stand by my side. But you have a race to run, just as I did, after your mother died.”

Adan heard emotion in his father’s voice. He looked up to see tears in his eyes.

“You are the fruit of my labor. You have already made me proud, and I know you will continue to.”

Adan couldn’t speak. He felt his throat constrict.

“Run on, my son.”

A loud clang woke Adan.

He rubbed his eyes as he stirred awake. A white light was shining on the main floor below the cages. Adan sat up and blinked, feeling thirsty. His mouth felt leathery with dryness.

He hadn’t dreamed about his father in over two years, but this dream had certainly been the most vivid. He could still feel the morning mist on his skin, and smell the sweet fragrance of the garden buds.

He looked down and saw that the light was coming from the hallway that led to the outer gate, the door they had entered. He realized that the door hadn’t been opened since they first arrived in the temple.

Now, white daylight streamed through the hallways and Adan heard the sound of footsteps in the passage.

Dias the priest was standing in the same spot he always stood, with two acolytes flanking him on either side.

Adan sat up. Several of the others had taken notice of the newcomers as well and were stirring.

“What madness are they up to now,” Kian muttered when he saw the priest.

“I’m sure whatever it is, it’s for the betterment and collective good of mankind,” Rocco replied.

“Of course,” said Kian. “These blokes are all about helping their fellow man.”

Commander Hugo entered through the arched hallway. Several warriors followed him, dressed in the same robes and armor. As before, their feet and heads were bare.

The commander came to stand in front of the priest, with four warriors flanking him on either side.

“You sent for me,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Yes,” Dias replied. “Hear now the word of the One.”

Hugo uncrossed his arms. “You have word?”

“Our efforts have not been in vain,” said Dias. “The time has come.”

Hugo stared at the priest without a word for several moments.

“Are you certain?” He asked at length.

Dias lifted his hands in the air. “We have seen our own ships sailing south. We have seen the Three Cities, burned by fire and emptied. We have seen you, Hugo, marching through the gates of Threcalax and beheading the king, and…”

Dias paused.

“And what?” Asked Hugo.

“And something I do not understand. We have seen a city we do not know, surrounded by a forest, and the forest is on fire.”

“What might that mean?”

Dias lowered his hands. “I cannot guess. After the next two Coralyds, we may know more.”

“How long will that be?”

“No more than two days. Tomorrow evening will be the last.”

Hugo looked up at the two remaining cages holding the prisoners. “You’re completely certain?”

Dias did not reply. Instead, he pulled his white garment from his shoulders and dropped it to the ground. Disrobed in the firelight, he stood before Hugo wearing only his loincloth.

But instead of seeing bare skin, Adan could see markings on his body. A tattoo covered his body like a tunic. Reds, blues, and yellow marks entwined in intricate patterns that Adan didn’t recognize had been woven across the priest’s skin.

Dias turned his back on Hugo as if to show him the largest section of his illustrated body, and Adan froze. For a brief moment, he could have sworn he saw the markings move. Dias’s skin seemed to roil and churn as the colors and patterns mixed together and reorganized themselves.

Adan was too far away to make out the shapes on Dias’s back, but Hugo looked closely at the images for several moments.

The two acolytes behind him bent and retrieved his robe. Once Hugo was satisfied they replaced it around Dias’s shoulders and the priest turned to Hugo once more.

“So it’s time,” Hugo said. “By the end of the last Coralyd, we will be ready to sail. If there is more to know, I would wait until it is clear.”

“I think that is wise.”

“From flesh to Spirit,” Hugo began.

“From Spirit to flesh,” Dias replied.

“All will see the domination of the One.” They all repeated in unison.