She quieted herself, swallowing her words.
“Like we’re dead,” I muttered.
She blinked, but instead of denying it, she nodded. I stepped in a little closer.
“There is a reason Kroans are looked at like a disease. And this place? It is the heart of it. But I don’t plan on staying.”
She half-smiled. “You don’t truly believe you’re coming out of there.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t feel anything here?”
“I don’t have to. Your eyes betray more than you want them to. But if you don’t think you’re making it out, what are we doing here?”
“Ending it.”
“I’m coming,” Meridan spoke up.
“You need rest.”
“She’s right,” Mullins chimed in.
“We all do. I’m coming,” she repeated, shying from the brightness of the torches as she made her way through the men.
Turning, I headed for the side of the ship, swinging my leg over the railing to climb down into the boat below.
The group venturing into the temple consisted of Mullins, David, and James. Then, myself, Meridan, and Vidar. The Weaver was in good hands, anchored near the sharp rocks, but not close enough to be slammed into them if the waters decided to toss again.
As we rowed away from the ship, a sense of security was stripped away. It started to sink back into the thickening fog like a specter as we moved toward the flat, stone bridge. Vidar stood at the front of the boat, a lantern raised in front of him to light the way. When the underbelly of the boat scraped against the rocks, we stopped, realizing the water was shallow enough to wade through. We disembarked, tossing a rope over a vertical stone to secure our way back, and cautiously began moving inward.
It was a somewhat long trek through knee-deep water. It felt like ages before we came to a set of steps leading out of the sea and onto a raised walkway that led straight to the mouth of Theloch. And when that entrance came into clear view from the fog, it was like staring a great monster in the eyes while it reared up to devour us. The arch was far larger than what was needed for anything of normal size to pass through. It looked like it was made for a giant, carved crudely from basalt and glassy obsidian. Past the archway was pure, impenetrable darkness.
We all stopped before entering, letting the humid air from inside pass us by. There was a pulse to it, as if we were about to walk into the belly of a breathing giant. It smelled of stale water and salt.
“So, this is where you were born,” Vidar said.
“Are all Kroans born here?” David asked.
“No,” I said. “And these days, none of them are. A Thelochian birth had to be approved by the priestesses. And my mother was one of Akareth’s favorites.”
The image of my mother in that dark chamber, suffering through the birth of two daughters, flickered in the back of my mind.
“Should we expect to run into any priestesses here?” Vidar asked.
“No. This place was abandoned shortly after I was born. That day, my mother waged war on the world. Not just men. Kroans rallied behind her like she was a god herself.”
“Maybe no priestesses, but those creatures in the canyon certainly could show up,” Mullins said.
I nodded in agreement. “The only ones unwilling to let go of this place, I suppose.”
“It’s big. Not as big as I thought a city would be, though.”
“Most of it is beneath the water,” Meridan said.
“Well then,” Vidar exhaled, taking the first step forward. “Let’s not waste more time gawking.”
I quickly joined his side and ventured into the monstrous structure. In there, the torches did less than they did in the fog. The lanterns barely reached from wall to wall. We stayed tight, moving through a dank cave, the sound of dripping water echoing around us. The deeper we went, the denser it sounded. No longer was the breeze whispering through the corridor. All I could hear was our light footsteps and the whisper of the torch fires.
We walked and walked through the windowless passage. When Vidar swung his torch toward one of the walls, we could see barnacles, old and new, layered upon the stone up to the ceiling.
