The temple was unlike anything Aziz had ever seen. Hidden beneath the earth, carved from the bones of the world itself, this forgotten place seemed like a relic from a time long past, its existence unknown even to the village elders. The chamber was vast, its walls lined with flickering torches that cast a warm, unearthly glow. How had the flames remained lit after all these years? The temple must have been untouched for centuries.
Aziz hesitated for only a moment before reaching out to lift one of the torches from its sconce. The torch was warm in his hand, the flame real and alive, illuminating the chamber with a brilliance his night-vision could never match. With the torch held aloft, he saw the temple in color for the first time, each detail of the ancient structure coming to life in the firelight.
A narrow bridge stretched before him, spanning a dark chasm. Its stone surface was rough and uneven, as though it had been hastily carved or worn down by countless footsteps from an era long forgotten. Aziz moved cautiously, each step echoing in the vast emptiness. The torchlight cast shifting shadows that danced at the edges of his vision.
Halfway across the bridge, something drew his gaze downward. He paused, peering over the edge, his breath catching in his throat. Hundreds of tiny purple pinpricks stared up at him from the darkness below—unblinking, their malevolent gaze piercing through the limitations of his night-vision. Raising the torch higher, he illuminated the chasm beneath, revealing a seething mass of serpents lying in wait.
They were eyes—hundreds, perhaps thousands of them—belonging to a writhing, living tide of serpents. Their bodies entwined in a ceaseless, sinuous dance, their black scales shimmering in the torchlight. A chorus of hisses rose to greet him, a symphony of venomous whispers that seemed almost welcoming. It was as if they recognized something in him, a kinship between human and serpent, something shared in their blood.
They don’t look extinct to me, Aziz thought grimly.
Symbols carved into the pillars around the chamber caught his eye. They were familiar, their designs echoing those he had seen around Fang Mountain. These belonged to an ancient sect, one whose name was spoken in hushed tones by the village elders—the Bloodcoil Sect. Long ago, this sect had ruled over the three peaks, its influence vast and terrible. The sect had vanished around the same time the Black-Death serpents disappeared from the woods, leaving behind only fear and hatred that lingered like a curse over the generations.
Aziz recalled the stories the elders had told—how the Bloodcoil Sect’s dark reputation had turned the neighboring villages against Fang Mountain. They refused to offer aid, even in times of dire need. Once, Fang Mountain had been a thriving hub under the sect’s rule, rich and powerful. Now, it was reduced to nothing, its people punished for sins they hadn’t committed.
It was said the Bloodcoil Sect had sought to separate from the Kingdom of Umbra, to form an independent state, something the King could never tolerate. Stories passed down by tongue told of martial artists from the sect who would appear at night and vanish by dawn, leaving death in their wake. Some claimed the sect had nearly succeeded in forming the first independent state under martial control. But something had gone terribly wrong. Rumors spoke of the Divine Snake—their god—abandoning them, the result of a betrayal from within. No one knew the truth, except those who had been there. Either way, the sect’s impudence had gone too far in the eyes of many. And now, Aziz was one of the many who bore the weight of that legacy.
Stolen novel; please report.
Had the Bloodcoil Sect gathered all the Black-Deaths and hidden them away in this temple? And if so, for what purpose?
The questions swirled in his mind as he stepped through an archway leading to an altar at the center of the chasm. The hissing grew louder as he approached, the serpents below sensing his presence, their movements becoming more agitated, more frenzied.
On the altar, carved into the stone, was the symbol of the ancient sect—a Black-Death serpent coiled in a spiral, its mouth open wide as if to consume its own tail, forming a perfect circle. Aziz traced the grooves with his fingers, feeling the cold stone beneath his touch.
Eternity. The eternal hunger. The only way out is through, a voice inside his head seemed to read the meaning.
The followers of the Bloodcoil Sect had believed in embracing the poisons of the world, in drowning in them forever. A tear slipped down Aziz’s cheek, though he couldn’t understand why. There was a deep sadness here, an unspoken despair that resonated within him. He quickly wiped the tear away, forcing himself to focus.
His gaze fell upon a dusty old manual resting on the altar. The cover was worn, but the title was still legible—Lowly Serpent’s Breath. Aziz couldn’t believe his eyes. A martial arts manual, hidden away in this underground temple, belonging to one of the most ancient and feared sects in the martial world.
He picked it up, about to open it, when a sudden silence fell over the chamber. The hissing of the snakes ceased, leaving the air thick with tension. Aziz’s heart raced as reality came crashing back.
How long have I been here? Surely too many hours had passed.
Panic set in, and he sprinted back to the hole, pushing the book through first before crawling through himself. Back in the pit, he quickly concealed the manual in the hole, sitting in front of it to hide any signs of his discovery. He forced himself to calm his breathing, knowing he couldn’t afford to look suspicious.
Just as he caught his breath, the pit door opened once again. This time it was the same subordinate from before, the one who had mocked him. He dropped another pouch of bread into the pit. Aziz didn’t look up, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground as he waited for the man to leave. But the man didn’t go. He stood there, watching Aziz in silence, his presence heavy with suspicion.
Do they know? Aziz wondered, struggling to keep his nerves in check.
Dying wasn’t the problem; Aziz had come to terms with that. But he wasn’t foolish enough to believe there was no cost to his resurrections. Everything had a price, and until he understood the reason for his undying nature, he knew he had to avoid death as much as possible.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the man turned and walked away, the pit door closing behind him. Aziz exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He was safe—for now. But he knew time was running out. He needed to learn what was in that manual, to understand the secrets of the Bloodcoil Sect, and to find a way out of this nightmare. Only then could he begin to unravel the mystery of his captors, and why they had taken him and so many others.