Oriana hurried to finish her purchases, but when she finally turned back toward the fountain, Garren was gone. Scanning the crowd, she spotted his dark head of hair moving out of the market square and onto one of the roads leading in the opposite direction of Haldis’s.
After finally winding her way through the market, Oriana made her way down the road she had seen Garren disappear onto. Glimpsing him far ahead, she quickened her pace until she was little more than ten feet away, where she found him in conversation with a young couple.
She inched closer, straining to hear their discussion. His head turned in her direction, and she darted behind a cart just before he could spot her.
“Could you direct me to the monastery?” She didn’t fully hear his words but rather felt them rumble their way through the earth, just as they had sent vibrations through the floorboards the previous evening. She shivered, curse his deep euphoric voice. How on earth did he do that?
The gentleman mumbled something Oriana could not discern, pointing in the general direction of the monastery, his finger jabbing left then right and finally, forward to where she knew the obnoxiously large building would be.
She watched as Garren thanked the man, shook his hand, and down the road.
Why did he want to visit the monastery? Was he religious? She groaned loudly at the thought, eyes widening as Garren turned his head ever so slightly. Oriana pressed herself further against the house behind her, attempting to hide within the shadows behind the cart.
She waited for a few apprehensive heartbeats until she was sure he had gone before cautiously creeping out from her hiding place and hesitantly heading toward the monastery.
If Garren was just a religious man, hoping to make an offering to a god or offer his praises, then which of the Gods might she find him praying to? Considering his profession as some kind of warrior demon hunter, he would more than likely make his offerings to the god of war.
Oriana clenched her jaw as thoughts of the Gods crawled through her head like beetles in a rotting log. She held no respect for the Gods. Long ago, she had learned that the Gods were cruel and mirthless beings. She cursed their names daily, wanting nothing from them. Centuries of living with her curse had taught her all they cared for was themselves. They had not even a thought for humanity–or the cosmos they ruled over–aside from the power and glory they held over it.
By the time Oriana made it to the monastery, Garren was nowhere to be seen. She closed her eyes, shoulders rising as she inhaled a long breath, stress coiled through her as she looked up at the towering building. She silently coaxed herself to go inside. It’s fine. Just ignore where you are. It’s just an ordinary building, like any other. She opened her eyes and sagged her shoulders, tension still tightening through her muscles. The tall cylindrical stone steeple at the building's center peered down at her like a watchful eye, making her feel as if her every move was being observed. As if it were a living, breathing thing. It was the only building made of stone in the entire village. It had been constructed many years before she had even arrived in Sardorf. Supposedly, it had taken over twenty years to complete, as the villagers had trudged the stone up from the nearest cove. Hundreds had died during its construction, just to create a place that they felt was worthy of the Gods. It made her sick.
Goose flesh covered her skin as she continued to survey the imposing structure. It was comical how much just being near the building affected her. She knew very well that the monastery had no real connection to the Gods. It was a holy place only for those who resided in it, the monks, and for those they had coerced into believing the Gods cared for them.
She saw the monks as religious zealots, worshipping beings they knew nothing about. If only they could see the true nature of the Gods they praised so profusely, they would surely burn this odious building forged in the Gods’ honor down to the ground, renouncing their names.
In her eyes, the monks were thieves. Claiming to know the will of the Gods, gathering tithes in their names, and evoking fear in the townspeople. The Gods did not talk to the monks or anyone in Svakland. Anyone who said they knew the will of the Gods or had heard them speak to them was a liar. And as if the townspeople hadn’t already enough fear from the very thought of her lurking in the wood, biding her time until the next red moon appeared. Funny how the monks never accused the Gods of creating the monster that had terrorized their village for centuries. Somehow, they didn’t believe it possible for the Gods to cause harm.
“Dimwitted fanatics,” she huffed. Flicking her hair over one shoulder to rest on her back, she squared up against the ornately carved wooden doors, grabbed the brass rings, and yanked them open.
She stepped inside and was met with the strong scent of incense and something damp as if water had seeped in through the walls and never left. The arched corridor was dimly lit, sconces lined the walls, flames flickering from the sudden rush of air she had created upon entering. The doors groaned loudly as they swung shut behind her, the sound echoing all the way down the passage where she saw a brightly lit room at the end. She suspected it was the prayer temple located at the bottom of the steeple that had just been mocking her on the streets.
Her footsteps sounded all the way down the long stone hallway, the noise making her cringe. She didn’t want to be here, hated everything about this place just because it made her think of the wretched beings that ruled over the cosmos. She attempted to quiet her steps with little success.
Woven tapestries hung along the walls of the corridor with vivid colors illustrating the story of the Gods as told by the monks.
It began with each of the six ruling Gods upon their thrones, surrounding a black orb. At the top of the orb, upon the largest throne, sat the god of life and death–king over the rest. On his right, circling down the curve of the black sphere depicting the world, was the goddess of nature and wisdom. Then came the god of storms and sea, beside him, the goddess of fertility and wealth. Next was the goddess of magic and beauty, until finally, there was the god of war and trickery, completing the circle.
With each step Oriana took, a new image emerged through the feeble light, sewn intricately into the tapestries. She observed the goddess of nature and wisdom creating the rich earth and the knowledge of good versus evil, then the god of storm and sea as he created the sprawling seas and endless skies of the world. The goddess of magic and beauty then wove her spells around it all, giving the world a dazzling appearance and spreading her love for all creation to the very core of the earth. Next came the god of life and death, creating the seasons that would cause nature to wither and die and then, in turn, create new life–a never-ending cycle of life and death–the very sustainability that the world would need to survive. Finally, the goddess of fertility and wealth and the god of war and trickery were depicted together, weaving their own godly powers through the world, showing the creation of humans and animals alike through the combined power of the two Gods. This is where the monks showed the downfall of humankind; their greed, pride, lust, envy, gluttony, sloth, and wrath. All things that lead to war.
Oriana laughed something cold and hollow, the grating sound echoing up and down the passage like an angry ghost. The god of war and trickery helping to create the life of mankind, it was altogether preposterous. She shook her head in incredulity before continuing on.
When she finally made it to the large prayer chamber at the end of the hallway, she saw Garren speaking in a hushed tone with one of the monks. She heard him say, “Thank you,” before following the monk into the depths of the monastery.
Oriana, let her head fall back and groaned, cursing loudly. She would have to venture further into this damned place. When she brought her head back down to look straight ahead, she found a very displeased monk staring at her and pointing a finger rather forcefully toward where she had just come in through the front doors.
“I– I’m with them,” she muttered before scurrying off after Garren and the monk he was following.
She sidled up alongside Garren, deciding it was useless to hide from him any longer, especially in this place. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“Are you following me?” he teased with a playful smirk.
Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him. He was absurdly handsome, which made looking at him without blushing exceptionally difficult. “No… well yes,” she relented.
“I know. I saw you attempting to hide behind that small cart.” He cast her a smug look that had her skin tingling. “I’ve come to look at their texts.”
The monk brought them to the end of a corridor lined with rows of doors on either side. At the end was the opening to a spiral stairwell that led down into pitch darkness. Grabbing a lantern from a hook beside the doorway, the monk began his descent. Oriana shivered. Gods, why did this place have such an effect on her?
“Are you alright?” Garren placed a hand delicately on her back, concern furrowed on his brow.
