It was too late. He turned and bolted from the room through a door hidden in the shadows. His white robes billowed behindhim as he ran and I tried in vain not to think of the zealots which had been killed just hours ago outside of the ninth tunnel.
I sighed, shoulders slumping as I examined my surroundings once more. I pressed my hand more firmly against my ribs and took a deep breath as I felt the healing power spreading through my torso. I turned to a nearby book to distract myself from the pain of bone knitting itself back together within me, gritting my teeth against it as I gazed down at the colorful page the tome sat open to. But it was written in some ancient language I didn't know and couldn't read so I took another step forward to the next item on the shelf. I winced again as the movement pressed against my healing ribs.
This one was a sword or, rather, part of one. The blade had been shattered and only half of its length as well as the bejeweled hilt remained. There was an inscription beneath the glass box that encased it but I couldn't read that either. I turned to the other objects in the room around me, removing my hand from my side since my ribs were now fullyhealed. Coins, rusted or broken weapons, jewelry boasting various gems and one necklace whose pendant sat strangely vacant, various strips of cloth, books opened to specific pages. If I didn’t know any better, I would think I now stood in some sort of shrine. Or…I glanced back at the candles and understanding dawned upon me.
A temple.
The door at the end of the room burst open again. I couldn't stop myself from taking a defensive stance as the largest man I'd ever seen strode into the room, dipping his head as he did so as not to slam it against thedoor frame. He was well over six feet tall with a broadness at the shoulders that continued down through the rest of his body. I got the impression, despite the loosegrayclothes he wore, most of that width was muscle. His lips were pursed in a frown and his dark eyes were narrowed as he took me in, the candlelight flickering over his ebony skin.
He sized me up with the same efficiency in which I did the same to him. I kept my gaze locked on his even as two more men entered behind him, dressed similarly and just as on edge. Then three priests came in as well, including the one who'd originally run from me upon my admittedly sudden entrance.
“Tiberius,” one of the men spoke, his eyes darting from me to his leader. “Her arms.”
Caught off guard, I glanced down to where the fabric of my shirt had burned away to reveal a hint of the bands branded beneath.
The enormous man they called Tiberius took two steps forward before reaching out and grabbing my arm. I tried to wrench away but his grip was like a vice. He held me there easily, examining the black band peeking out through thescorch marksin my sleeve once before reaching up and ripping the entire sleeve from my arm. I gasped, pulling away as the excess fabric pooled around my wrist, but it was too late. He'd seen the bands and now his eyes narrowed as he stepped back away from me. His gaze ran over me in new appraisal as his jaw clenched and a little vein popped out upon his forehead.
“She’s…like us then,” the same man who'd spoken before said now. His eyes were wide just as the priest’s had been as he stared at me in shock. “She’s Fallen.”
I nearly snorted at the accuracy of the title.
“Who are you?” I demanded. I crossed my arms and raised my brow in an attempt to look fearless despite how close to quaking in my boots I was at the fact that I'd just survived almost certain death to land in this strange world far below the bowels of Sanctuary.
“Tiberius,” the leader finally spoke. His voice was low, his tone clipped as though he'd rather be just about anywhere but here.
I narrowed my eyes, prepared to demand more of an explanation than that, when recognition hit me. My jaw slackened as I stared at him with new appreciation.
“Tiberius the Triumphant?” I asked, blinking in shock.
How had I not seen it before? He looked exactly like his bronze statue in the Hall of Heroes. Even the size of him, which I'd always thought was an exaggeration, was proportionate to the man standing before me. But he'd lived over a thousand years ago. Fifteen hundred to be precise. So how was he here now?
I dropped my hands to my sides and stared at the men behind him again. Maybe I hadn’t survived that fall after all. Maybe I was dead. Maybe this was the afterlife and a welcome from such heroes would be the only honor I was given for surviving nine out of ten of the gods’ Trials.
His snort brought me out of my thoughts and back to the present.
“Not very triumphant in the end, as it turns out,” he answered. The corner of his mouth quirked up in some joke I didn’t quite understand. “What’s your name?”
“AdrianBexley,” I told him, still stunned by the hero of a forgotten age standing before me. “Am I dead?”
“No. But give it time and you might wish you were.”
I blinked at him and he sighed.
“Welcome to the Underground, AdrianBexley.”
He did not smile, but the men behind him did. The two ingray, dressed like he was, grinned broadly as the priests behind them bowed deeply in welcome.
“The Underground,” I repeated, even more confused than before.
“Come with me,” Tiberius said before turning and making his way toward the door again.
I hesitated for only a moment, glancing back at the hole I'd fallen through and the world above I was leaving behind, then Ifollowed. His men and the priests cleared the way as we passed, nodding to me in greeting as the massive hero escorted me out of the strange temple I'd landed in. My mind was working furiously to keep up. In all honesty, I could still hardly believe I was alive.
We stepped out into a hallway even darker than the temple had been. These walls were made of stone the color of deep charcoal rather than the lighter beige and they jutted out at odd angles so I had to twist sideways in places to avoid striking my shoulder or thigh against one of them.
Tiberius, despite his bulk, moved effortlessly in the narrow path ahead of me, dodging the stones as if he'd memorized where they were long ago and barely needed to look to avoid them as he passed. I could hear two pairs of footsteps following behind us as we walked and knew his men were there. The thought of their proximity should have made me uneasy, vulnerable as I was squeezed between them and their master with no weapons with which to defend myself. But before I could properly panic, we stepped out of the dark passage and into a well lit atrium.
I blinked against the sudden light, letting my senses adjust once more after so long in the dark, and then stared up in wonder at the ceilings at least thirty feet above me. Lights flickered there, bright and plentiful in an effort to combat the dark charcoal stone walls and cobblestones below. Metal railings descended from the ceiling where a few men in bright orange hats were working on some of the lights that were out, repairing them. I dropped my gaze to the enormous cavern surrounding me to find hundreds of people, all ingrayclothes that were a few shades lighter than Tiberius’ crossing back and forth. They entered doors carved into the sides of the cave or shot off down hidden passages in all directions. Most of them carried papers with them or packages of some sort. I just stared, mouth agape, at the sheer size of the bustling crowd around us.
